(My daughter is walking about cuddling her kitten, appropriately named Nemesis.)
Daughter: “Mom, why does Nemesis love me?”
(Before I can answer, her 12-year-old brother interjects dryly:)
Son: “Stockholm Syndrome.”
(At my place of work we sell various appliances, including vacuums, but no parts.)
Customer: “Hey. Where are your vacuum filters?”
Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t carry any parts or filters for our vacuums.”
Customer: *storming straight to the vacuums* “Never mind. I’ll just find them myself.”
(Suffice to say, I had to take a moment to realise what just transpired. I didn’t follow him, but I wonder how long he spent looking for those filters.)
(I answer the phone at home.)
Me: “Hello?”
Caller: “Hello, am I calling the Lee family?”
Me: “Yep, speaking.”
Caller: “Very well. My name is [Caller], calling on behalf of the Chinese-Canadian Association. Do you have a moment to participate in a survey?”
Me: “I’ve got time, but I don’t think you’d be interested in what I have to say.”
Caller: “I don’t follow, sir.”
Me: “Unfortunately, we aren’t Chinese, so I don’t think I can adequately field any of your inquiries.”
Caller: “I’m sorry, but I am calling the Lee family, correct?”
Me: “Correct.”
Caller: “And you aren’t Chinese?”
Me: “Also correct.”
Caller: “But how can that be?”
(Apparently, he had never heard of Korean people named Lee. Or even white people named Lee!)
(When I am about five years old, my mother makes Jello for dessert. I think I can get away with sneaking some before dinner. It is rather obvious when it comes time to serve it.)
Dad: “Okay, who got into the Jello?”
(My brothers and I remain silent until the threat of not having any comes up.)
Me: “I did.”
Dad: “You’ve got a choice: you can watch us eat ours and not have any, or you can have some and then get punished.”
Me: *without hesitation* “I’ll have some of the Jello.”
(Thirty years later, Dad still brings it up.)
I work in a small call centre with my friend. One of the shows we are selling today is an Easter play depicting the Crucifixion of Jesus. A few minutes ago, [Friend] got a call from a woman who asked us if the crucifixion being depicted was a person really being crucified, as opposed to an actor pretending to be crucified. [Friend] explained that it was just an actor and the woman was apparently disappointed.
The woman had a Filipina accent; people who are especially religious in the Philippines actually crucify themselves there each year. It’s only for a few minutes, mind you, but it is a real crucifixion. Apparently, she was hoping to see the same thing here in Canada.
This story is part of the Easter roundup!
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Read the Easter roundup!
This story is included in our Philippines roundup – part of the Not Always Right World Tour!
Read the next Philippines story!
Read the Philippines roundup!
