Diolch yn fawr Very Much, Part Dau

| Right | May 2, 2014

(I am on about my third shift as a new employee at a petrol station. I am currently the only day-staff member who speaks Welsh, and many customers, it seems, have never met the store’s Welsh-speaking night staff. As I live and work in a very Welsh-speaking area, my ability to use the language seems to be something of a novelty for the regular customers).

Customer: *in Welsh* “So nice to have a true Welsh-speaking Welshwoman on the staff here, even if you’re not local.”

Me: *in Welsh* “Well, thank you for the compliment. There are actually two ‘true Welsh-speaking Welsh’ staff members, but I’m afraid I’m not one of them!”

Customer: *in Welsh* “Sure you are. I mean it’s obvious you’ve come up from, like, [Mid Wales Town] or somewhere to study at [Nearby University], as your manner of speaking is a bit more polite than us lot. We do like to yell at each other, you know.”

Me: *in Welsh* “Well, you’re right about me studying at [Nearby University], but I’m actually from [Southern England town]. I’m polite because I am working in a shop and I’ve been trained to always treat customers with care and respect.”

Customer: *in English* “No f****** way! You can’t be English. Your Welsh is too good!”

Me: *in Welsh* “I assure you, I am English. I’ve had 3.5 years of Welsh lessons, and plenty of friends who’ve encouraged me to practice the language so that I’m comfortable using it in a work situation. I am flattered that you felt my Welsh was good enough to count me amongst born-and-bred Welsh speakers, though.”

Customer: *in English* “So you could understand everything I was saying to you just now?”

Me: *in Welsh* “Well, weren’t you of the impression I was from [Mid-Wales Town]? We sustained a conversation in Welsh.”

Customer: *in English* “I just can’t get my head around being able to talk in Welsh to an English person. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to talk to you in English. I can’t deal with talking to you in Welsh. It’s too much.”

Me: *in Welsh* “Whatever makes you more comfortable. Would you prefer it if I also switched to English?”

Customer: *in English* “Oh God, no! It’s about time you lot learned our bloody language!”

 

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Rufus Is Stranger Than Fiction

| Right | August 8, 2011

(I am a customer and overhear this conversation between two teenagers looking at the rodents.)

Girl: “Oh my gosh! Is that a bald rat?”

Boy: “You mean a hairless rat? Yeah.”

Girl: “They really have those?”

Boy: “Of course.”

Girl: “Wow! I thought those were only in Kim Possible!”

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You’re Watching The Braille Channel

, , , , | Right | March 16, 2011

Me: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Customer: “The problem is you sent me a blind person’s television!”

Me: “Pardon me, sir?”

Customer: “You heard me! A television you sell to blind people!”

Me: “I am sorry, nothing like that exists. Are you sure the TV is not just faulty?”

Customer: “I don’t care what’s wrong with it! All I know is I am not blind!”

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A Negative Reaction To The Lotion

| Right | August 29, 2013

(I work in the beauty department.)

Me: “Good afternoon! Is there anything I can help you find today?”

Customer: “Well, I’m here to return something.”

Me: “That’s a shame. May I ask why you’re returning it?”

Customer: “Well I just didn’t like it.”

(There are only two ways we can return a product: if it’s defective, or if they have an allergic reaction.)

Me: “I’m very sorry you didn’t like the product. However, I am unable to return it at the time. Can I ask you how much did you use?”

(The customer hands me over the product and glares at me. I open the product to find that the entire thing has been used.)

Me: “Ma’am, the bottle is empty.”

Customer: “Well of course it is! I had to use it to find out if I liked it!”

Me: “You can’t return this product, as there is nothing there to return. It’s like bringing in a shoe box with no shoes in it!”

Customer: “Well, that just does not make any sense! You people should return this! I didn’t like it! This company is worthless!” *stomps off*

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Misteaken Cowmprehension

| Working | May 29, 2013

(I’m a new waitress at a vegetarian restaurant.)

Me: “Hello sir, are you ready to order?”

Customer: “Yes, thank you. Could I get a medium rare steak with peppercorn sauce and a side of chips please?”

Me: “I’m very sorry sir, but we don’t serve steak. In fact, I don’t think we ever have. This is a vegetarian restaurant.”

Customer: “Really? Oh, what a shame. Do you mind if I see the specials again please?”

Me: “Certainly sir. They’re written on the back of our menus. I’ll just go and fetch you one.”

(I get him a menu. When I return, I see the owner’s daughter, who is also my co-worker, taking his order.)

Owner’s Daughter: “So, that was a medium rare steak with peppercorn sauce and a side of chips?”

Customer: “Yes, thank you.”

Owner’s Daughter: “Certainly sir—”

Me: “Wait, [co-worker], we don’t sell steak. This is a vegetarian restaurant.”

Owner’s Daughter: “No, we’ve always sold steak!”

Me: “But this is a vegetarian restaurant. You can’t!”

Owner’s Daughter: “Yes! This is a vegetarian restaurant and yes we sell meat!”

Me: “So, let me get this straight: you’re claiming this is a vegetarian restaurant that sells meat?!”

Owner’s Daughter: “Yes, finally! Now finish this man’s order whilst I clean up that table.”

Me: “But… never mind.”

(I finish taking the customer’s order, and sure enough his steak arrives. I speak to the owner. Turns out that his daughter didn’t know what vegetarian meant, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her! I quit a short while after that when an actual vegetarian restaurant opened across the street. Within a few weeks, the ‘vegetarian’ restaurant was out of business.)

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