A Stupid Call By Any Metric, Part 4
I am an Australian working in a bar and restaurant in a ski town in British Columbia. Lots of tourists come through, and this particular one is an American man around fifty years old. I am mildly hungover and have just walked into work.
Tourist: “What do you have on tap?”
He is standing in front of the fourteen taps and ignoring the drink menu on the counter.
Me: “What are you looking for? IPA? Pale ale? Lager?”
Tourist: “Lager.”
Me: “We have this one from Vancouver, or this one which is brewed locally, just eight k’s down the road.”
K is standard slang for kilometres in a metric country.
Tourist: “Eight what?”
Me: “Eight kilometres.”
Tourist: “What?”
I speak slowly, as my Australian accent can admittedly throw Americans sometimes.
Me: “Eight kilometres.”
The tourist gives up trying to figure out what I was saying.
Me: “Here’s a sample.”
I slide him across a taster.
Tourist: “That’s fine. I’ll have one of those.”
I pour the beer and ring it up.
Me: “$8.10, please.”
Tourist: “Is that in dollars?”
Me: “Yes, Canadian dollars.”
Tourist: “What is it in American dollars?”
Me: “Do you know where you are, sir?”
Tourist: *Indignantly* “Yes.”
Me: “Well, that is why it is in Canadian.”
He paid and walked off in a huff. I could have been more delicate, but guess what? Things change when you cross international borders!
Related:
A Stupid Call By Any Metric, Part 3
A Stupid Call By Any Metric, Part 2
A Stupid Call By Any Metric
