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    Cutty Out The Attitude

    | New Zealand | Top

    (I am working in a kindergarten where over half of the kids are Maori. The Maori word for scissors is ‘kutikuti,’ which is pronounced ‘cutty cutty’.)

    Me, to a child: “Can you pass me the kutikuti please?”

    Mother: “What did you say to my child?”

    Me: “I asked her to pass me the scissors.”

    Mother: “Don’t talk baby to my child. She’s smart enough to use adult words.”

    Me: “I wasn’t. I was using the Maori name for scissors.”

    Mother: “No, you said cutty cutty. That’s not Maori. I’m Maori, and I think I know Maori when I hear it.”

    (The child interrupts. She grabs her mom by the hand and drags her off to a poster on the wall which has a few art objects and their Maori names under them.)

    Child: “Mom, why do you always have to pick fights with people? I’m very disappointed in you!”

    (When her mother left I gave the kid the biggest sticker I could find to put on her good behaviour chart.)

    Visual Innuendos

    | Norway |

    Me: “Hello, may I help you with anything?”

    Customer: “Ah, yes, please. I have no idea what I’m looking for really.”

    Me: “What room are you thinking about redecorating?”

    Customer: “My bedroom. It’s just so plain boring. I need some action! Action around the bed, you know?”

    Me: “Oh…yeah.”

    Customer: *pauses* “Wall…on the wall! I meant action on the wall!”

    The Land Of Milk And Money

    , | Minnesota, USA | Bigotry, Top

    (I am working at a packing house, cutting checks for local dairy farmers who sell us one or two cows at a time. They are given a scale ticket in the barn, which I use to cut a check.)

    Me: “Hi, can I have your scale ticket?”

    Farmer: “I’d like him to help me.” *points at a USDA associate*

    Me: “Sorry, sir, but he doesn’t work for us. He works for the USDA.”

    Farmer: “Well, I’d like you to find a MAN who can cut me a check for my cows.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, but none of the men that work here know how to cut checks. All our office staff members are women.”

    Farmer: “Don’t lie, you little hussy! Only men can run a business! You go back to making coffee!”

    Me: “Sir, you run a dairy farm, correct?”

    Farmer: “Yeah.”

    Me: “And you make money from the milk you sell?”

    Farmer: “That’s how a dairy farm works, sweetheart. Now get me a–”

    Me: “So, basically, milk is money to you?”

    Farmer: “Yes. Now get me a–”

    Me: “And does the milk come from male cattle?”

    Farmer: “Ha ha! NO!”

    Me: *pointed look*

    Farmer: *hands me the scale ticket*

    No Aptitude For Latitude

    | Table Mountain, South Africa |

    (I am a customer standing behind a couple, obviously from overseas. The ticket lady had just told them that the cable car is out of order because it’s being serviced.)

    Customer: “That’s unacceptable! We’ve come all the way to see the top of Table Mountain!”

    (I see that the ticket lady is tired of explaining the same thing over and over, so I chip in.)

    Me: “They have to service the cable car because it’s off-season. They don’t want people to get hurt if the cable car breaks.”

    Customer: “Well, it’s summer where we come from!”

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