Lost In Their Own Translation

| Belgium | Right | August 6, 2013

(My husband and I are from America. We move overseas to Belgium for his job, and make every effort to learn the native language. I am shopping for a computer part, but am tripping over the technical terms. The clerk mercifully switches over to English for my benefit. As he is helping me, a few native men queue up behind me and overhear us.)

Customer #1: *in French* “Such a typical American; expecting everyone to cater to them and their stupid language.”

Customer #2: *in French* “Can’t blame her. This b**** looks too stupid to learn French.”

Me: *in French* “Looks can be deceiving, gentlemen.”

(The customer turns red and quickly wanders off. The clerk is laughing so hard, he has to sit down.)

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No Produce Reduce

| TX, USA | Right | August 6, 2013

(The customer in question is our grocery store’s former produce manager. She was encouraged to ‘retire’, because she was caught raising the prices of the produce so her sales would be better. She has a return and a few items, so I do her return and scan her items to balance out the difference in which she only owes me one cent.)

Me: “Okay, your total is one cent.”

Customer: “That’s not right. The onions are ringing up wrong.”

(I look at my screen, and the onions she bought were ringing up 68 cents a pound.)

Me: “They’re only 68 cents.”

Customer: “They are supposed to be 99 cents a pound! That’s what the sign says.”

Me: “Those are for large onions. You bought medium ones.”

Customer: “Well… I guess I’ll take them for that price, but your new produce manager needs to learn how to price things right.”

(She storms out in a huff, and my manager walks over.)

Manager: “Did she just… want to pay the higher price?”

Me: “Yes… and while you’re here, I’m reaching into my pocket to get the penny that she forgot to pay me for her stuff.”

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Isn’t What I Ordered

| Right | August 5, 2013

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The Sound Of Silence

| Right | August 5, 2013

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Raising A Voodoo Child

| Winnipeg, MB, Canada | Right | August 5, 2013

(I have been a music instructor for over three decades. An angry mom confronts me before her son’s drum lesson.)

Angry Mom: “Why are you showing my son all of these heavy metal and rock songs to play drums to?”

Me: “Because he asked me to. He seems to like that type of music.”

Angry Mom: “He most certainly DOES NOT like that music. It’s overtly sexual, violent and demonic. Why can’t you show him good music? Instead of this Metallica and ACDC garbage.”

Me: “Good music?”

Angry Mom: “YES! Good music. The 60s. Jimi Hendrix. The Beatles. The Rolling Stones?”

Me: “Maybe ‘Hey Joe,’ by Jimi Hendrix?”

Angry Mom: “Exactly!”

Me: “‘I’m just going down to shoot my old lady, I caught her messing around with another man….’ That ‘Hey Joe?'”

Angry Mom: “Yes! The classics!”

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