(I overheard this at our thrift store.)

Customer: “Do you have any coffee makers?”

Coworker: “Yeah, I have a few. Are you just looking for a Mr. Coffee type?”

Customer: “I want one that isn’t communist.”

Coworker: *scratches his head* “I’m not sure I follow.”

Customer: “I want a coffee maker that isn’t communist. If it’s made in China, I don’t want it! I refuse to give a communist country my money.”

Coworker: “Um, we’re a secondhand store. Any money you spend here stays here and is donated to [Local Animal Shelter]. I can guarantee it won’t go to China.”

Customer: “If it’s made in China, it’s a communist coffee maker!”

Coworker: “Unfortunately, I don’t think we have any that fit what you want.”

Customer: “Well, then, you won’t get any of my money unless you make your products in the USA!”

(The customer leaves.)

Coworker: “But… we’re a thrift store…”

(I work as a supervisor in a small local bakery. On Fridays and Saturdays, I have two teenagers in the shop to help out and, while they have a lot of promise, they still have a bit of learning to do. This all happens within about ten minutes. The phone rings.)

Me: *busy prepping orders* “[Teenager #1], hon, can you just check the caller ID for me?”

Teenager #1: “It’s the ordering company.”

Me: “Ah, brilliant. Can you just pick up and tell them we don’t need anything until next week?”

([Teenager #1] picks up the phone and, without saying the name of the bakery or even, “hello,” he says…)

Teenager #1: “We don’t need anything until next week.” *hangs up*

Me: “Uh, okay, we’re going to work on your phone manner, hon.”

(Two minutes later, I’m coming into the kitchen from the shop front.)

Teenager #2: “Oh, [My Name], where is Stalin from?”

Me: “He was from Russia.”

Teenager #2: “Oh, yeah. So, [Teenager #1], Stalin was this really famous Nazi…”

Me: “Erm, he was a communist and a Soviet leader.”

Teenager #2: “Are they different?”

(At this moment, I notice a customer in the shop front and go through to serve them.)

Customer: “Can I get the doughnut with the um… ah… millions and billions?”

Me: “Oh, hundreds and thousands!” *what British people call sprinkles*

Customer: “Oh, yeah! Sorry, you must think I’m a right idiot.”

Me: *smiling wanly* “Not at all, sir. In fact, do you want a job?”

(A man hands me a tax check for $3,000 and asks to cash it all. Because of tax season, we are required to put a $25 fee on tax checks, due to the large amount of money we have coming in and out daily.)

Me: “Sir, to cash this I do have to charge you a fee of $25; however, it is free to deposit it, and you can access it from your debit card if you would like.”

Elderly Man: “You know, I didn’t just get on the boat and come up from Cuba. I’ve had my green card since I hit age 16. You d*** commies are always finding ways to take my money. I’m a resident of the USA, and I demand my check be cashed for free.”

Me: “Well, sir, I’m sorry, but we charge that fee because we have to express-order money, and we must pay a fee to do that. So, the $25 we charge you goes into making sure we have enough money in the building to cover checks like these.”

Elderly Man: “I ain’t paying no f****** fee! I’ll go to [Popular Retail Location]!”

Me: “Good luck, sir.”

(He comes back an hour later.)

Elderly Man: “Just cash the d*** check and take your fee!”

Me: “Have a good day, sir.”

Elderly Man: “F*****g commie.”

This story is part of our Ignorant-About-Communism roundup!

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Read the Ignorant-About-Communism roundup!

(I take a drama class when I am in eighth grade. One day we somehow get on the topic of Cuba. The teacher asks us if any of us know where Cuba is.)

Classmate: “Isn’t it somewhere in Russia?”

Teacher: “…”

Me: “Dude, it’s, like, ninety miles south of Florida!”

(How this dude got into eighth grade, I have no clue, especially considering that he was in the same Global Studies class as me.)

Both of my parents were born in Yugoslavia (in what is now modern-day Serbia) and migrated to the USA. My dad can speak English fine, but my mom has trouble speaking it, so my dad and I use Serbian most of the time.

I take the bus to school, and of course, there are a lot of people who also take the bus. I get in, pay, and then take my seat. About two stops later, the bus stops at a train station, and a parent gets on with a kid in one hand. They get on the bus, pay, and take the two seats across from me. It is fine for the first few minutes as nothing is going on.

I decide to call my dad to tell him that I am almost at school. As I said, my dad and I use Serbian most of the time, so we converse in our language. Once the conversation is finished, the kid across from me tries to get my attention.

Kid: “What were you saying?”

Me: “I was just talking to my dad.”

Kid: “You talk funny.”

Me: “Oh, that’s because we were speaking in our language.”

The kid’s mother joins the conversation.

Mother: “Well, your language is not what we all speak around here. We speak English, and you will, too.”

Me: “Ma’am, my family isn’t from here. We are from—”

Mother: *Cutting me off* “I do not care where you are from. English is what we speak, so speak it!”

Me: “I understand that you speak English, but my family has a hard time speaking it, so I’d rather use our language so they can understand me. Besides, what we were talking about is of no use to you.”

Mother: *Sighs* “Why can’t you d*** Russians get the hint that your language is not what we want to hear you speak? If you cannot speak English, then just go back to Russia! We would do better without you commies all over our land!”

Me: “First of all ma’am, my family is Serbian. Second, we are not communists. And third, it’s not a crime to speak another language.”

Mother: “THIS IS AMERICA, AND WE SPEAK ENGLISH, SO DO IT OR GO BACK TO YOUR D*** COUNTRY!”

At that point, I put my earbuds in and just let her go on.

When we got to my stop soon after, I got up, and before I walked out of the bus I looked at the lady and said, “You big b****” in Serbian. The face she gave me was priceless.