(I’m in the process of making a dessert that requires a measured amount of whipped cream, so I check the recommended serving size to make sure the container has enough whipped cream in it to begin with and I’m Skyping with my sister while I work.)
Me: “Who the heck only eats two tablespoons of whipped cream?!”
Sister: “Communists.”
(My parents and I are sitting eating dinner when suddenly my mom asks a question.)
Mom: “The Great Wall of China, that’s like the Berlin Wall, right? To keep the Communists out?”
(I am blonde-haired, blue-eyed and extremely pale. I have also just come back from Ireland after a year in college. I am in a diner. A waitress comes up to me.)
Me: “Oh hi, can I have a cheeseburger?”
Waitress: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Can I have a cheeseburger?”
Waitress: *sighs and rolls her eyes, speaking very slowly* “Right. Now, the cheeseburger comes with cheese, a to-MAY-to and LET-tice.”
Me: “Why are you talking like that?”
Waitress: “Now, it is $2.64. Now, a cent is—”
Me: “Is this the accent?!”
Waitress: “Well, if you want to come to United States, you better f***** learn the language first! Where the h*** are you from anyway?”
Me: “Virginia.”
Waitress: “As if! You sound like you’re f****** Russian. Get the h*** out of my country you commie!”
Me: “Look, I really am American; I just spent months abroad.”
(The waitress isn’t listening, and proceeds to snatch the menu from me, as well as the plates.)
Waitress: “Just get this into your head you f****** cow. We are a proud and hard-working country, and we don’t tolerate communists. So get the h*** out of here! Better yet, get out of the States, or I’ll tell my manager you spat in my face. Got that?”
(When the waitress leaves, I stand up in the center of the diner. The other people in the diner are looking at me, having seen the waitress’s behavior.)
Me: “I think I can prove I’m American…”
(I quickly break into song.)
Me: “I am the very model of a modern Major General,
I’ve information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical,
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical
I’m very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,
About binomial theorem I’m teeming with a lot o’ news…
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse.
I’m very good at integral and differential calculus;
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General!”
(I sing the entire first verse, and I can sing it very well, since I am a big fan of Gilbert and Sullivan. There is silence when I finish. The waitress just stares and goes in the back. I look at the manager, who is now out.)
Manager: “What was that?!”
Me: “Your employee doesn’t think I’m American. I just spent a school year abroad in Ireland.”
(The manager goes in the kitchen and yells at the waitress. When I come back some time later, she isn’t there.)
(I work for a company that interacts with senior engineers in the US government. This conversation takes place with a senior engineer in a well-known space organization.)
Engineer: “That’s a funny accent you have there. Where are you from?”
Me: “Canada, sir.”
Engineer: “AH! G’DAY, MATE!”
Me: “Canadian, not Australian, sir.”
Engineer: “Well, what’s the difference?”
Me: “Well, for starters, Canada is the country right above you to the north.”
Engineer: “No, it isn’t! Russia is above us!”
Me: “And between Russia and you is Canada, sir.”
Engineer: “Liar! Sarah Palin said that she could see Russia from her backyard! Why do you think that places like New York and Boston are full of communists?! Because of the Russians being so close to them!”
Me: “Sir, I have you here as senior engineer at [Organization]. How does one become senior?”
Engineer: “You have to have worked hard in the field for 20 years.”
Me: “And to clarify, Canada is Australia, and Russia is above you?”
Engineer: “Right! I don’t see why this is so hard to understand!”
This story is part of our “Where are you from?” roundup!
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Customer: “Do you have any clothes that aren’t made in China?”
Me: “Well, we can–”
Customer: *whispers conspiratorially* “Don’t you know that they’re all communists there?”
(She grabs a shirt off of the rack, and looks at the tag.)
Customer: “Ah. Made in Vietnam. Much better.”
(She walks off triumphantly.)
This story is part of our Ignorant-About-Communism roundup!
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