(I work for a company that has only one sale a year, both in our stores and on our website. The sale is treated by many as a very big deal. I’ve been on the phone with a customer for almost half an hour as she complained that the website was slow — because so many people were on it — some items sold out before she could get them, and not everything she wanted was covered by the sale. Annoying, but at least true, until…)

Customer: “And another thing! Why does the sale start for the people on the West Coast before it does for people in Ontario?! That’s not fair! It should start at the same time for everyone!”

Me: “It does, ma’am.”

Customer: “It does not! I’m looking at your website and it says 6:00 am Pacific time, 9:00 am Eastern time! People in Toronto should get a chance to buy stuff at 6:00 am, too!”

Me: “Ma’am, 6:00 am Pacific time is 9:00 am Eastern time.”

Customer: “You’re trying to claim six is the same as nine? What do you think I am, stupid?!”

Me: “We’re in different time zones. If you’re in Toronto, it’s now five o’clock, right?”

Customer: “Of course, it is!”

Me: “Right, well, I’m in Vancouver and it’s 2:00 pm here right now.”

Customer: “I know that; I’m not an idiot! I don’t see what that has to do with why people in BC get to start on the sale earlier than the rest of us!”

Me: “But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. The sale only started at one time. It’s just that that time was 6:00 am for us, and 9:00 am for you, just like right now it’s 2:00 pm for us and 5:00 pm for you.”

Customer: “I can’t believe you’re lying to me like this! This is f****** ridiculous! I want to talk to your manager, right now!”

(I dutifully got her my supervisor, who spent the next fifteen minutes trying futilely to explain to a grown woman how time zones work. The customer finally hung up, still calling us liars.)

Related:
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 16
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 15
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 14
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 13
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 12

Customer: “How much is faxing?”

Me: “It’s $1.50 a page for local and $2 a page for long distance.”

Customer: “It’s going to [Town].”

Me: “That would be long distance.”

Customer: *making a sour face and shaking his head* “No. Noooooo, no way. That’s not long distance.”

Me: “Why did you ask me, then?”

Related:
Taxing Faxing, Part 25
Taxing Faxing, Part 24
Taxing Faxing, Part 23

(It’s just a few weeks before my wedding, and I’m discussing with a coworker about honeymoon plans. It’s late September.)

Coworker: “Where do you guys plan on going for your honeymoon? Somewhere warm, I hope!”

Me: “No, I’m not big on warmer weather; I love autumn. We decided on Bar Harbor, Maine. It’s going to be peak season with the autumn colors and we’re both really looking forward to having a nice relaxing vacation together.”

Coworker: “Maine? Where’s that, east coast or west coast?”

Me: *seriously confused look, waiting for the joke*

Coworker: “Don’t look at me like that; it’s been a long time since I was in school!”

Me: “East coast.”

(I decided after that it was time to go home!)

(We’re having another heatwave, which is very common in Southern Alberta. An Englishman and an American man walk into the restaurant where I work as a waiter.)

American: “I expected it to be… colder.”

Englishman: “Yeah. Are you sure we’re in Canada?”

American: “I dunno, we might be lost. I don’t see any snow.”

(The two walk up to me while I’m serving a young couple.)

Englishman: “’Scuse me, sir?”

(I turn to him.)

Me: “Yes?”

American: “Are we in Canada?”

Me: “I’m guessing you were expecting snow, beavers, maybe an igloo or two?”

(They both nodded. Feeling like being “funny,” I was about to tell them, “No, this is still the States; keep heading north,” but before I could respond, the Englishman whispered something to the American. He then pointed up to a plaque featuring the Canadian flag and its anthem. They both turned extremely red and ran out.)

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(I live in the US, but my dad lives in the UK. Even though we’re usually an ocean apart, we’re still very close, and he does his best to visit. On one trip, he comes with me to the store. We’re checking out, and he’s helping me unload the cart.)

Cashier: “Did you find everything all right?”

Dad: “Yes, thank you!”

Cashier: “Oh, I love your accent! Where are you from?”

Dad: “Oh, I’m visiting her from the United Kingdom.”

Cashier: “Wow! That’s over by Canada, right?”

Dad: “No? It’s over in Europe.”

Cashier: “Oh, well. I was never good with maps. How long have you been a couple?”

(I try not to lose it at this point. My dad gives me a look, making it harder not to laugh.)

Dad: “That’s actually my daughter.”

(At least the cashier stopped asking questions after that.)