In the eighties, I worked for a newsagent at a local train station.

One day, a young man came in and asked for a packet of “Free”. The only thing we sold by that name was a brand of cigarettes not made from tobacco — I seem to remember the ingredients included cherry leaves. They came in “ordinary” and “menthol”.

Me: “Do you want the menthol-flavoured ones?”

It took about a fraction of a second for his face to turn crimson and he left the shop rather hurriedly.

Only later did I realize that he had probably wanted to buy condoms, as “Free” was a popular brand of condoms back then. Our condoms were a different brand, and I only thought of the one thing we sold with the name “Free”. I did feel sorry for the poor guy.

I was in a convenience store the other day. It was a busy day, so there was a bit of a line, and behind me was a couple speaking Spanish to each other. My Spanish is not the best, but I understand enough to overhear them being cute and flirty with each other. It kind of made me smile, because “ain’t love grand?”

Then, a woman in her forties got into the line and immediately started looking visibly annoyed. She grunted and sighed audibly, prompting the boyfriend from the Spanish-speaking couple to turn around.

Boyfriend: *In perfect English* “Hey, is everything all right?”

The woman gave him a look that could peel paint from the walls.

Woman: “Oh, I’m fine. I just wish people had better standards for them themselves. You know speaking Spanish in public makes you seem uneducated, right?”

Now, my knee-jerk reaction upon overhearing this was to turn around and tell this lady where she could stick it, but the boyfriend beat me to it!

As soon as she said “uneducated”, the dude’s face inexplicably lit up like a Christmas tree. He smiled at the woman, then immediately turned to his girlfriend and started saying something in French!. The girlfriend responded to him, also in French.

He turned back to the woman.

Boyfriend: “Is that better?”

At this point, I was giggling to myself, because d***, that was GREAT! But it wasn’t over. The woman stares at the guy, mouth agape, completely speechless.

Boyfriend: “No? How about this?”

He turned to his girlfriend and asked her something in what was clearly German!

The girlfriend laughed and responded, also in German. Now, I don’t speak French or German, but really, I didn’t need to. This was comedy GOLD!

I was just bursting out laughing! The woman and the other people in line saw me, so I just turned to the boyfriend and smiled at him.

Me: *To the woman* “D***, he told you!”

I’d paid for my stuff by then, and as I left, I heard the girlfriend ask:

Girlfriend: “So, how many of those languages are you ‘educated’ in?”

I wish I’d stayed around to see the end of the interaction!

I work at a little shop located inside a hospital. We sell cold sandwiches.

Customer: “I’d like this sandwich heated, please.”

Me: “I’m afraid we only sell cold sandwiches.”

Customer: “But… I’m a doctor.”

Me: “Okay? We don’t have any means to heat sandwiches in this shop.”

Customer: *Slightly different tone* “But… I’m a doctor…”

Me: “Be that as it may, we don’t have a microwave or an oven.”

Customer: *Yet another slightly different tone* “But I’m… a doctor.”

Me: “So… just the sandwich, then?”

The customer blankly scans his card on the reader and walks out of the store, looking dazed and confused.

Customer: “But… I’m… a doctor?”

I go to the restroom one night on my graveyard shift in a national convenience store, and I pass blood. I call the manager.

Manager: “Can you just hang on a bit until I can get there?”

I wait, and she calls back ten minutes later.

Manager: “Can you finish the six hours you have left on shift?”

Me: “Not really. I need to go to the hospital.”

She says she’ll be in soon. I wait again, and another ten minutes later, she calls again. I don’t even give her a chance to speak.

Me: “I’m leaving now; I can barely stand.”

It took less than three minutes before the manager walked in the door.

Man, I was off like a rocket, and just as I walked in the ER door, I passed out.

The reason I was hesitant to leave — other than being young and afraid to lose my job — was that there were no locks on the doors since we were a twenty-four-hour store.

Four transfusions and three weeks later, I got out of the hospital. The first place I went was the store, and I gave my two weeks’ notice, retroactive for three weeks.

I’m in line at a small gas-station shop, with a man in front of me being very argumentative to the cashier (who has a distinct Middle Eastern accent) about cashing in a lotto ticket.

The cashier is waiting for his supervisor while trying to get through the line of people in the meantime. The customer in front of me grows impatient and starts mocking the cashier’s accent, eventually cumulating with him saying:

Customer: “Do you even speak English?”

Suddenly, from behind me in line, I hear:

Other Customer: “He speaks English fine. The problem is he doesn’t speak a**hole.”

I’ve never seen a more challenging figure than the petite, young, blonde woman responsible for that comeback.

The customer in front of me turned bright red and sulked in the corner, but otherwise waited without a peep.