Don’t Be A Dummkopf

I am from the UK but live and work in Germany, and I fly “home” fairly often to visit my parents. On this particular trip, I’m in a shop in Birmingham trying to buy a specialist book that’s out of stock. I talk to a salesman, who checks for it on the computer.

Salesman: “I can order it and have it sent to you?”

Me: “I live in Germany. Can you do that?”

Salesman: “Yes, it’s £15 delivery for anywhere in the EU. All I need is the delivery address and I can get that sorted for you.”

He is standing at the computer, looking at me expectantly.

Me: “Uh… it’s a German address; it’s a bit complicated. If you have a pen I can write it down?”

Salesman: *Condescendingly* “Look, love, just give me the address.”

Me: “It’s in German.”

Salesman: “Yeah, sure, it’s fine.”

Me: “Okay, then. It’s Assenmacherstraße [series of German numbers], Wiesenthalerhof, Kaiserslautern.”

Salesman: “Uh…”

Me: “Problem?”

Salesman: *Sheepishly* “Let me get you a pen…”