(I’m 19 and a customer in his mid-twenties comes up to me with a 6-pack of beer and some beef jerky.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, since I’m underage I can’t sell you this beer. Would you mind waiting for my coworker?”

Customer: “Oh, sure no problem. Can I ask you a question?”

Me: “Sure.”

Customer: “You’re of Indian descent, right?”

Me: “That’s right, sir.”

Customer: “But you were born here in America, right?”

Me: “Uh, no actually. I was born in India, but I moved here pretty young.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me, you don’t have an accent! I’ve seen all the movies! Any Indian character who works at a gas station always has an accent!”