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When The Only Typing Available Is Stereotyping

, , , , | Right | August 31, 2010

Me: “Sir, can I help you?”

Customer: “I need a cable.”

Me: “Ok. I’ll take you to our cables. What kind of cable do you need?”

Customer: “Uhm…. a cable. USB? I need to hook up a computer.”

Me: “Here are our USB cables, but could you be a little more specific?”

Customer: *getting angry* “These are not what I need at all! I need a cable! Are you deaf? I need a  C-A-B-L-E. I need one for my computer.”

Me: “Sir, there are a lot of cables. If you could tell me what kind of thing you are trying to hook up?”

Customer: “Is there anyone else on the floor that can help me? Maybe one of the computer guys? You’re obviously too stupid to understand.”

Me: “Sir, I am the only one on the floor at the moment and I am trying my best to help you find your cable.”

Customer: “Miss, why don’t you go back to the registers where you belong and bring me a computer guy?”

Me: “Sir, I am the tech person and would be happy to help you find your cable. Could you show me an example of what you mean?”

(The customer, extremely agitated, goes to a display computer.)

Customer: This is what I want! A cable!”

Me: “You mean a keyboard?”

Customer: “Um…yes.” *sheepishly leaves the store*

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Can’t Take The Heat Of A Melting Pot

, , , | Right | August 24, 2010

Coworker: “Hello, sir. Are you looking for something?”

Customer: “I refuse to be helped by you. You’re Chinese. You’re another one of these darn immigrants stealing the honest Canadians’ jobs!”

Coworker: “Well, my grandmother is from Japan, but I assure you I was born in the province of Quebec.”

Customer: “Lies, lies, and lies!” *spots me* “Finally, a prime example of our good Canadian youth. Young sir, can you help me, please?”

Me: *in my New Brunswick accent* “Sure I can. What are you looking for?”

Customer: “What kind of accent is this? Are you German? Or Russian? Get me the manager! I don’t understand how a sane person could hire these instead of a hard-working Canadian!”

Me: *grabbing the phone* “Calling Maria to front desk.”

Customer: “Maria?! That’s Latino!”

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Incheon Further Away From The Answer

, , , , , , | Right | August 10, 2010

Resident: “So are you Chinese or Puerto Rican? It’s hard to tell.”

Me: “I’m Korean.”

Resident: “Oh. Is that like Japan?”

Me: “No, it’s Korea.”

Resident: “Well, that was my next guess. So, do you speak Chinese or Japanese?”


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Havana Clue What She’s Talking About

, , , | Right | July 27, 2010

(I have lived in the US for five years, but I still speak with a slight accent.)

Me: “Did you find everything all right?”

Customer: “Can someone else help me, please?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I want someone who isn’t Mexican to help me. You already took enough jobs, thank you very much.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not Mexican.”

Customer: “Yes! Yes, you are!” *reads my name tag* “Maria is such a Mexican name!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m Portuguese.”

Customer: “Oh, Mexico, Portugal, Costa Rica. It’s all the same. You come into our country and steal all of our jobs. Just because you’ve hopped the fence doesn’t give you the right to be here!”

Me: “Ma’am, Portugal is in Europe. It’s located next to Spain. We speak Portuguese there. It is impossible to hop across an ocean and into the US.”

Customer: “Go back to Castro then, communist!”


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Store Of The D***ed

, , , , , | Right | July 23, 2010

Me: “Hi, how can help you today?”

Customer: “Are you a lesbian!?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You’ve got real short hair. I heard that women with short hair are lesbians.”

Me: “So, was there anything I could help you with?”

Customer: “You can answer my question! Are you a lesbian or not?!”

Me: “Sir, I don’t feel it’s appropriate for me to answer that.”

Customer: “I don’t want some Hell-bound homosexual near me! God will strike you down for disobeying his word!”

Me: “Okay, okay. If you really must know, no, I am not a lesbian.”

Customer: “Then why do you have short hair??”

(By this time, my manager, who is male-to-female transgender, walks over.)

Manager: *in their manly voice* “Is there a problem here, sir?”

Customer: “Oh, dear lord! You’re not a woman!”

Manager: “Only on paper, sir.

Customer: *runs out screaming* “This place is d***ed! D***ed, I tell you!”


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