In the UK, when I was a kid (born in the 70s here), it was common for kids to be able to buy cigarettes. In fact, it was common for adults to send their kids to the local shop with a shopping list, with cigarettes being a common item among them.

I recall overhearing my older brother come home from being sent to the shops by my dad:

Dad: “[Brother’s Name], where are my ciggies?”

Brother: “They didn’t have any.”

Dad: “None at all?”

Brother: “You said to get Woodbines, but if they didn’t have that, then get something else.”

Dad: “And?”

Brother: “They didn’t have Woodbines.”

Dad: “So where’s my something else?”

Brother: “Right there.”

Dad: “That’s a pork pie.”

Brother: “Yes. That’s something else.”

It’s one of the first very hot days of summer. For reference, England isn’t set up for heat—any building constructed more than a few years ago is built to keep the heat in, not disperse it, and air conditioning is rare. 

While shopping, I pop into a corner shop to grab a drink and a snack. It’s hotter inside the shop than it is outside, and the shopkeeper looks miserable. I choose a packet of crisps which costs £1.25 and a drink that costs £1.75 and place them on the counter. The shopkeeper puts the price into the card reader manually and turns it towards me, as I already have my card in my hand.

Shopkeeper: “That’s £2, please, mate.”

Me: *As I tap my card, I realise that doesn’t sound right.* “Hang on, £2? Isn’t it supposed to be £3?”

Shopkeeper: *Stares at me for a long moment.* “Christ, you’re right. I think my brain has melted.”

He presses some buttons on the card reader, and I tap my card again to pay the extra pound.

Shopkeeper: “Thank you, most people would have kept quiet.”

Me: “No worries, man, I know how hard it is for everyone these days. Have a drink of water or something, yeah?”

And that was that. No one clapped, he didn’t fall at my feet in awe of my honesty or offer me something for free. He probably won’t even remember me by the next time I go in there. But I got a nice feeling out of being honest, he got what he was owed, and we shared a moment of commiseration over shared frustration with the weather. What could be more British than that?

I work in a watch repair kiosk inside a train station. An older gentleman approaches, holding a clearly cheap, plastic watch. It’s lost its wrist straps so it’s just the watch face by itself.

Customer: “This used to be my brother’s. Keeps stopping. Can you fix it?”

Me: “I can take a look, but sometimes it costs more to fix these than replace them.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to replace it. I just want it to tick again. It’s sentimental.”

That part’s fair. I nod and open the back. There’s a corroded battery welded into the contacts like it’s fossilized. I show him.

Me: “This battery probably hasn’t been changed in over a decade. It’s leaked into the movement—”

Customer: “—Oh, don’t give me the sales pitch. I’m not stupid. Just put a new battery in.”

Me: “It’s not about the battery. The acid ruined the internals. It’s basically a paperweight now.”

Customer: “You people always say that so we’ll buy a new one. I know how this works. You just want a sale.”

He storms off. A few minutes later, I hear someone trying to jam something into the coin slot of the coffee machine behind me.

It’s the same man.

It’s his watch.

Me: “That machine might give you change, but it won’t change reality.”

He stops, shocked that I’ve been able to poke my head around and see what he’s doing.

Customer: “You’re f****** useless! This watch is f****** useless!” *Kicks the coffee machine.* “This is f****** useless! My brother is f****** useless! Everything is f****** useless!”

He throws the watch to floor, and storms off. I guess he’s going through a bad… time. (Sorry.)

We have a young new guy serving his mechanical apprenticeship at our dealership. He was writing his report on a vehicle he’d just fitted a new clutch on. I could see he was suddenly very agitated and annoyed.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Apprentice: “That car I just did the clutch on. It’s just been picked up by the customer.”

Me: “Yeah, and?”

Apprentice: *Pointing to a tick box question on the form.* “Well, I can’t remember if it was an auto or a manual.”

I’m out driving with a friend. I try to adjust my satnav, and it falls off the dash and falls under the seat.

Me: “Ah, crap.”

Friend: “Pull over or we’ll get lost.”

Me: “We’re on the motorway. I know what junction we need, so I’ll put it back after that.”

The voice of the satnav can suddenly be heard from under my seat.

Satnav: “In three kilometres, take the outside line for junction twelve.”

Friend: *Turns white.* “How… how does it still know?!”