My family moved from a small, traditional island community to a bustling city when I was really young because my parents were offered an opportunity they couldn’t afford to miss. This meant changing schools, meeting new friends, etc.

It is the first day of secondary school for my older brother, and he is nervous, to say the least. His name is Natsei, pronounced “Nat-say,” but everyone calls him “Nat” or “Nats” to avoid the obvious. He is in his first class of the day, English, where the teacher is doing attendance.

Teacher: “Erm… Mr. [Our Last Name]?”

Brother: *Raises his hand* “Here.”

Teacher: “Could I ask, how do you pronounce your name?”

Brother: “You can call me Nat; a lot of people do to avoid what I know you’re thinking about.”

Teacher: “For future reference, however, how do you pronounce your name?”

Brother: “Nat-Say.”

Teacher: “I bet your parents didn’t think that one through, did they?”

Brother: “Considering that it’s a traditional name handed down through my family, I would say they did.”

The teacher ended up calling him by our last name for the rest of his time in school.

I’m on the last stage of my training for this call centre, which involves me taking calls with my trainer listening in to make sure I’m doing it right. One reason I’ve been hired is that I’m bilingual in French and English, but the trainer on this call is not fluent in French. 

Trainer: “Okay, now I’m going to connect you to the network. Ready for your first call?”

Me: “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The phone rings immediately. 

Me: “Thank you for calling [Employer], this is [My Name]. How can I help you today?”

Caller: *With a very thick Quebecois accent* “Sorry, I thought I call the French phone?”

I switch over to French, as I notice that my screen is telling me the call is coming from a part of Quebec notorious for the weirdness of its accent.

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice that it was a French call. What can I do for you?”

The caller explains his issue, which I solve for him.

Me: “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Caller: “No, that’s great, thanks. Bye!”

I hang up and turn to my trainer.

Me: “How was that?”

Trainer: “Well, since I understood about a tenth of what you said and not a single word the caller said, I’m going to assume you did awesome.”

Me: “Yay!”

Trainer: “I am going to ask the manager to put you on English-only calls during our training shifts, though.”

Me: “Boo…”

A woman walks up to my desk. She is wearing the required mask and has a slight, possibly Australian, accent. She says something to me that I can’t quite make out, and that sounds completely ludicrous. After a moment, I realize that what she was actually saying was:

Customer: “Is it all right if I pay with a card?”

I assure her that it is, then laugh and tell her:

Me: “For a moment there, I thought you said, ‘Is it all right if I play with a cod?”

Customer: *With a straight face* “Do you have one?”

We both cracked up.

I work in a coffee and tea shop in a shopping centre. There is a branch of the city public library housed in the same building. There are signs in the shopping centre that indicate which way the library is, but they don’t mention the fact that it has a separate entrance; you have to leave the mall proper and go in through a different door.

My workplace is right next to the mall door closest to the library entrance, so it’s no surprise that my coworkers and I are often asked by confused visitors where the heck the library is. We never mind giving directions… but then there’s this guy.

Customer: “Excuse me, which way is the library?”

Me: “Oh, you just have to go out that door and go left.”

Customer: “Sorry?”

Me: “Out the door. It’s on your left, past the greengrocer and the fish market.”

Customer: “Out?”

Me: “Yes. Go outside and turn left down the walkway there. It’s at the end of the walkway.”

Customer: “But… outside?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “The library is outside?”

Me: “It’s the same building, but it has a different entrance. You have to go outside to get to it.”

He looks at the door and then back down the hallway he just came up, looking completely baffled.

Customer: “But… outside?”

Me: “Yes. Outside.”

Customer: *Confused silence*

Me: “Here, I’ll show you.”

I come out from behind the counter, walk to the mall exit, open the door, and point about twenty metres away AT THE LIBRARY ENTRANCE with a sign reading “Vancouver Public Library” over the door. 

Me: “It’s right there.”

The man looks at me, starts to come closer, walks out the mall door… and starts walking in completely the wrong direction, across the parking lot.

Me: “Sir? Sir? You’re going the wrong way.”

He doesn’t stop and is soon out of earshot.

Me: “Well, I tried.”

I hope he finally got to the library in the end.

There is one particular actor who, for whatever reason, my brain absolutely refuses to record the name of. I have seen him in at least a dozen movies, in a broad range of roles, and he’s been acting for longer than I’ve been alive. But I simply CANNOT remember his name.

Every time he comes up in conversation, I sigh, rack my brain, and finally resort to imitating a famous scene of his because I CANNOT remember his name.

I don’t think this is too unusual, until one time I start trying to describe a movie to my girlfriend.

Me: “It had this one character, who… D*** it, I can never remember his name, but—”

Girlfriend: “Jack Nicholson.”

Me: “How did you know?!”

Girlfriend: “Because every single time you say that, you always follow it up with, ‘Heeere’s JOHNNY!'”