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    Canada, America’s Baseball Cap

    | Victoria, British Columbia, Canada |

    (A young couple with an almost stereotypical southern accent enters the shop, browses around, and pick up some things, then go to the cash desk.)

    Me: “Is that everything for you today?”

    Woman: “We’re on our honeymoon…”

    Me: “Okay… will you be paying with cash, debit, or credit?”

    (The man throws some money on the counter, saying nothing.)

    Me: “I’m sorry, we can’t take American money.”

    Man:“WHY ¬†THE &@^# NOT? AMERICA IS THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD!”

    Me: “Well, that might be the case, but this isn’t America.”

    Woman: “What?”

    Me: “This isn’t America. It’s Canada.”

    Woman: “But that’s part of America, right?”

    Me: “No.”

    Man: “Oh, I get it. It must be Canada day. That’s when they pretend to be independent.”

    Me: “Sir, we ARE independent. It’s a separate country. Different money, different government, different accents.”

    Man: *winks to his wife* “Right…”

    Let’s Try Something Simpler, Like Boiling Water

    , | Redding, CA, USA |

    (A woman comes into the store just before closing, and asks where our muffin pans are.)

    Me: “Right this way…”

    Customer: “So how do you make muffins?”

    Me: “Well… I guess you’d just have to buy a box of muffin mix and read the directions.”

    Customer: “Well, what do you usually put IN muffins?”

    Me: There’s the mix, then the eggs, then the milk, or possibly water….”

    Customer: “What do I do with all of that?”

    Me: “Normally, you would mix the ingredients and put them in the muffin pan.”

    Customer: “So I just pour them in the pan?”

    Me: “You can… but most people put the batter in paper muffin cups.”

    Customer: “So do I put the paper cups in before or after the batter?”

    Me: “…”

    Not. Funny.

    | Viera, FL, USA |

    (I am folding clothes when I am approached by an angry looking customer. I turn to her, and she lowers her voice to almost a growl and narrows her voice.)

    Customer: “I hate this store. I hate you because you work in it. I’m going to take it out on your family and kill them all.”

    Me: *alarmed*

    Customer: *glares

    Me: “Is there anything…”

    Customer: “HA! HA HA HA! FOOLED YOU! You should have SEEN your face! Got you!” *strolls off*

    She Said, He Said

    | Fairfax, VA, USA | Top

    (I’m the electronics specialist at my store, and all electronic products go through me at some point before they are put out on the floor.)

    Customer: “Hi, I’m looking for a video game for my son. Can you find someone to help me with that?”

    Me: “Oh, sure. Which game system did you want it for?”

    Customer: “Oh no, not you. Can you find someone else? ”

    Me: “Well, there’s nobody else in this department right now who has access to the video games. It’s gonna have to be me.”

    Customer: “I mean, you’re a GIRL. What do you know? I demand that someone with more… well, I want a guy to help me. I’ll wait.”

    Me: “Sure… I’ll call someone to come over.”

    (I call over my male co-worker on the walkie who arrives about ten minutes later. My coworker gives me a weird look.)

    Coworker: “Okay… what did you need, sir?”

    (The customer starts rattling off a ton of technical questions about the compatibility of certain games and accessories, as well as questions about the content of each game.)

    Coworker: “Uhh… I don’t really know. You should ask her. She IS the Electronics Specialist…”

    Customer: “WHAT?! HOW?! She’s… a… GIRL! Well, I still want you to help me.”

    (My coworker and I follow this customer around for about 20 minutes as he asks questions to my coworker, who in turn asks ME. When I answer, the customer tunes out, so that my coworker has to repeat what I said.)

    Customer: “Now, was that so hard?”

    The Fairweather Fan

    | Parsippany, NJ, USA |

    (In my line are a preteen girl, an older woman behind her, and lastly a middle-aged woman.)

    Me: “Can I have your zip code, please?”

    Young girl: “Wait, what?”

    Me: “We’re just doing a survey.”

    Middle-aged woman: “Don’t listen to her, honey. You don’t have to give her any information if you don’t want to. They’re just going to use it to help the government to watch you! The government is already in enough things. You shouldn’t give them any more opportunities to watch what you’re doing! I never give my information when sales girls ask for it; that’s my right, and it’s your right to refuse!”

    Young girl: “Um…”

    Me: *I punch in my own zip code* “It’s fine, never mind. That’ll be $6.34.”

    (Next is the older woman…)

    Older woman: “You can have my zip code. I shop here all the time, and I love getting coupons and fliers in the mail because the company knows people in my town shop here often. In fact, I have a coupon with me today!”

    Me: “Well, thank you, ma’am!”

    (The older woman pays and leaves and I ring up the middle-aged woman’s purchases. I punch in my own zip code again for her because I don’t want to hear another speech about the government stalking people via zip code.)

    Me: “That’ll be $24.56.”

    Middle-aged woman: “What? I wanted to give you my zip code!”

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