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Maybe They Were Cream-Filled?

| OH, USA | Food & Drink, Rude & Risque

(We are having yard sale at our house, where I am selling all kinds of things including chocolate molds for making different types of chocolate candies. A very nice and friendly elderly lady approaches me to chat about them.)

Lady: “You know, I used to have to buy chocolate by the 100 lb. bag because I made and sold so much candy.”

Me: “Wow, sounds like you were pretty busy with it!”

Lady: “Oh, yes, I had a room in my home dedicated to it. Most of my customers were my coworkers at [Local Plant].”

Me: “How nice.”

(I’m trying to be polite but I’ve got to be available for others to ask questions or make purchases.)

Lady: “I used to make chocolate penises.”

Me: “How ni— Wait, what?”

Lady: “Penises. I made a birthday cake covered with chocolate penises for a coworker. It said, ‘here’s the beef!’ Ha! Penises! Can you imagine?”

He’s Never Finn-ished

| Helsinki, Finland | Bad Behavior, Bigotry

(A customer is buying a few items. Due to a misunderstanding that isn’t in any way my fault he almost ends up buying the wrong model of a popular phone. I apologize nonetheless and the matter is resolved. Since the misunderstanding he’s had a chip on his shoulder. He is watching me very closely and trying to catch me making a mistake. To his disgruntlement everything goes smoothly.)

Me: “…and there you go. Have a pleasant day.”

Customer: “Hmph… Boy, let me ask you a question. Where are you from?”

Me: “Helsinki.”

Customer: “No, no, no… I mean originally?”

Me: “Helsinki.”

Customer: “Stop being a smart a**! What country are you or your parents originally from?!”

(I’m a bit baffled by this question since I’m blond, have blue eyes, and a light skin. I look pretty much your stereotypical Finn.)

Me: “Finland… Um, what are you trying to ask exactly.”

Customer: “Look here, brat, stop playing this game with me! I know you immigrants like to think of yourselves as Finns, but you are not and never will be. Stop dodging my question and answer me! Where is your family from?!”

Me: “Sir, please calm yourself. I am not playing games. As far as I know my family has always lived in Finland. What makes you doubt—”

Customer: “Impossible! That just can’t be true.”

Me: “Well, sure if you are talking about the dawn of humanity; then everyone is from Africa, I guess. But my grandfather was actually a genealogy enthusiast, and he found out that our family has been living in Finland at least since the 17th century. That is pretty much as early as is possible to find any written records from Finland.”

Customer: “No, you are lying!”

Me: “Okay, look at me then. Where do you think I am from?”

Customer: “That is not for me to know but for you to tell me! I am a customer!”

(A coworker is standing at another counter with his back to us. He is of Chinese descent but was born in Finland. Only the back of his head is visible to us and he has dyed his hair blonde. He hasn´t heard my conversation with the customer.)

Customer: *shouting to my coworker* “Hey! You! Clerk over there!”

(My coworker turns to us a little surprised because of the shouting. The customer frowns as he sees my coworkers face.)

Customer: *mumbling to himself* “… Oh, god, another one.”

Coworker: “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

Customer: *pointing at me* “What country is this boy from?”

Coworker: “Umm… Finland.”

Customer: “NO! You lying son of a… Where are YOU from?!”

Coworker: “Born and raised in Helsinki.”

(The customer screams incoherently and slams his hand on the counter.)

Customer: “You are all liars, thieves, and tax dodging lazy immigrants who should never have been let into this country! I am reporting you to the consumer authority and immigration officials! This will not stand, mark my words!”

(He storms off.)

Coworker: “What was that about?”

Me: “I have absolutely no idea. A hidden camera show or an episode of The Twilight Zone are the only explanations I can think of.”

(Luckily we never heard from him again.)

Thinks You’re Just Winging The Orders

, | Evans, GA, USA | At The Checkout, Bad Behavior, Food & Drink, Time

(I work in a fast food chain that specializes in buffalo wings. Two separate customers order wings, the first customer orders 20 wings while the customer right behind him orders five wings. At the time, we only have 10 wings prepared for instant sale, and were about halfway through cooking a new batch; an eight minute process. We decide to get the five-wing customer his wings and cook the 20 wing fresh for the second customer. We make the order in a few seconds and I hand out the order to the customer who then walks out.)

Other Customer: “Why did he get his order first?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We only had 10 wings ready so we didn’t have enough for your order… but we did have enough for him, so we went ahead and finished his order.”

(The customer seemed content with the answer, not replying… so I went on with my cleaning until his order came up a moment later.)

Me: “Here you are ,sir! Sorry about the wait, but we gave you all the fresh wings! Hope you enjoy!”

Customer: “Lemme ask you something… Do you like f***ing your customers?”

Me: “Uh… I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand…”

Customer: “Why is it that you made me wait on my order and gave that guy his order first when I made my order first?”

Me: “Uh, I’m sorry, sir. As I said before we only had 10 wings a few minutes ago… We didn’t have enough to make your order… but we DID have enough for his order so we went ahead and got his order out of the way… You would have had to wait anyway because even before we made his order we didn’t have enough for you order.”

Customer: “This is discrimination!” (him, the other customer, and I are all the same race)

Me: “No, sir! It’s not! We just didn’t have enough! We only had TEN wings! You ordered TWENTY! We didn’t have enough for you! We weren’t going to ask the guy with only FIVE wings to stand around waiting when we HAD enough for his order and NOT yours!”

Customer: “I’m never eating here again!” *walks out*

The Birds And The Bees And The Fish

| OH, USA | Extra Stupid, Pets & Animals

(An adult calls our aquarium with a question.)

Caller: “Do red devils have babies?”

(Red devils are a type of cichlid.)

Me: *thinking this is a prank* “Yes, they do.”

Caller: “How does that happen?”

Me: “Well, when a boy fish and a girl fish love each other very much…”

Caller: “No, no, I get that, but I had a male and it was fine, but when I put a female in the tank with it, after a while there were all these tiny red fish in there.”

Me: “Yes?”

Caller: *sounding confused* “So are they…?”

Me: “Yes.”

Caller: *frustrated* “But how does that happen?!”

Me: “What exactly are you asking me?”

Caller: “I’m asking you if my fish can have babies!”

Me: “Yes. Yes, they can.”

Getting Out Of Your Square Bubble

| USA | Bad Behavior, Tourists/Travel

(The bookstore is in a small, fairly quiet town and we frequently get people asking for directions. On this occasion, a 50ish-year-old lady and her husband come in.)

Customer: “I was wondering if I could get some directions? We are looking for the quilt square.”

Me: “Quilt square? I’m not sure what you are looking for. Is that a store?”

Customer: “No, it’s a piece of wood painted to look like a quilt. There are about 50 of them; they are hung up on the sides of buildings around the state. There is supposed to be one here.”

Me: “Oh, I didn’t know anything about that. I can look it up for you though.”

(I get on the internet and finally find the website. The whole time the customer is just chatting about how long it took her to find the square hanging on the barn. The only information I can find is that it is on a particular street.)

Me: “Okay, I found something. This says that it is on [Street].”

Customer: “Okay, but what building is it on?”

Me: “I am not sure. I am not familiar with that street but I know it is towards town.”

(The customer is starting to get frustrated for some reason, so I look up the street on Google Maps.)

Me: “If you take a right out of the store, it looks like the road is about five streets down.”

Customer: “But where is the square?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am really sorry, but I don’t know anything about the quilts. I can’t really tell you where it is because I have never seen it. If you go down the street, you will probably find it.”

(At this point, I am starting to lose my patience. She isn’t even a customer for my store.)

Customer: *grumbling to her husband* “I swear! These young people just don’t know how to get out of their bubbles! She’ll probably never leave [Small Town]!”

(I just let her leave without saying anything, but it still bugs me to this day. She assumed I don’t have any culture because I don’t know where a piece of wood is. I am not American, was born in Europe, and am not yet an American citizen. I have lived in multiple states in USA plus some of USA’s territories. I am probably more traveled than she is.)

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