I’m serving at a busy Chinese restaurant in London, England. I was born in Sydney, but my parents are from Guangzhou, but my accent’s more Bondi than Beijing.

A middle-aged couple sits down at my table.

Customer #1: “Your English is so good!”

Me: *Smiling.* “Thanks. I’m from Australia.”

Customer #2: “Wait… Australia? But this is a Chinese restaurant.”

Me: “Right you are.”

Customer #1: “So… you’re Chinese but you’re from Australia?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer #2: “Wow! That’s amazing. Do you… also speak German?”

Me: “Uh, no, sorry. I only speak English and Cantonese.”

Customer #1: “Oh, I just thought since you’re from, you know, over there, you might.”

Me: “Australia?”

Customer #1: “Yeah! Germany’s near there, right?”

Me: “Sir, are you thinking of Austria?”

Customer #1: “Isn’t that what you said?”

Me: “I said Australia.”

Customer #1: “Look, man, I’m from the States. Everything north is Canada, everything south is Mexico, everything east is ‘The West’, and everything west is ‘The East.’ You should be lucky I knew Austria was closer to Germany than… than the other one.”

Me: “Australia?”

Customer #1: “Yeah, that one!”

Me: “Well, in that case, welcome to ‘The West’. Can I recommend some of the best food from ‘The East’ for you?”

They were great customers, and like most Americans, they tipped well (not very common in the UK), although to this day I couldn’t tell if he was pulling my leg or not…

Our pub is having its weekly pub quiz. The quizmaster is casting questions onto the TV, and the teams buzz in. The question appears:

Question: “What is the largest dessert in the world?”

I work the bar, so I don’t really pay attention much to the quiz, since I’m serving drinks, but I do a double-take at the question. The quizmaster really did spell it ‘dessert.’

Team #1: *Buzzing in.* “The Sahara!”

Quizmaster: “Nope.”

Team #2: *Buzzing in.* “Antarctica!”

Quizmaster: “Nope.”

Team #2: “Yes, it is! The largest desert in the world is Antarctica, using all definitions of the word desert.”

Quizmaster: “That’s not the answer I have here.”

Team #2: *Indignant.* “Well, what is it then?!”

Quizmaster: “The largest dessert ever made was a Dairy Queen soft-serve weighing in at 8,260.85 lbs, created by Dairy Queen in Springfield, Massachusetts, back in 2005.”

All the teams reread the question, and several gasps of laughter can be heard.

Quizmaster: “Read the questions carefully, people!”

Team #2: “Technically, if you added a little syrup to Antarctica, it would be the world’s largest ice lolly (popsicle).”

The quizmaster gave them the point.

A coworker and I are looking at a diagram of the building we were working in to identify the fire alarm rallying points.

Coworker: “So it’s north of the building, here?”

Me: “No, that’s east.”

Coworker: “No, it’s the top of the page, so it’s north.”

I point out the compass rose at the corner that says north was off to the left side of the page.

Coworker: “No, north is always the top of the page. I took a ground navigation class in the military, and maps always have north at the top.”

So I started to rotate the page, and he started freaking out.

I’m working in a call center in the Philippines. Our nation commonly gets earthquakes, and we’ve learned to barely acknowledge the little ones. This evening, we experience a bigger one, and it’s enough to announce an evacuation of the whole building. I inform my current caller:

Me: “Sorry, sir, there’s an earthquake.”

Caller: “Really? I don’t feel anything.”

Me: “I’m in the Philippines, sir. I doubt you’d feel it in the USA. I will need to evacuate now, but I will call you back when normal service is restored.”

Caller: “So, if you don’t call me back, I’ll assume you died in the quake.”

I do not know what to say to that, so I just hang up and rush out along with everyone else.

About half an hour later, we’re given the all clear and we go back to our desks. The first thing I do is call the customer back. The first thing he says:

Caller: “Oh… you’re alive.”

He almost sounded disappointed.

I am sitting in the lobby of a Toyota dealership waiting while my car undergoes maintenance. A man comes to the counter and begins to quiz the poor worker about the parts that are going to be put in his car.

Customer: “Look, I just want to make sure it’s going to be good American parts in my car. None of that overseas stuff. It’s the principle of the thing you know.”

Worker: “I understand, sir.”

Customer: “I’m not saying overseas stuff is bad for them, they’re used to knock-offs. But I’m an American. I demand quality for my car, not that stuff. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Worker: “Of course, sir.”

Customer: “Especially that stuff from Asia. All full of chemicals and cheap. I want the real stuff. Just as good as what was there when it rolled off the factory line. I’m not saying Asian people are bad; I don’t have anything against them. I’m sure Asian people are lovely, I just don’t want their stuff in my car.”

Worker: “I hear you, sir.”

Customer: “So, can you promise that it will be only American parts?”

Worker: “I’m afraid not, sir. Some of our parts—”

Customer: “—Look here. I know how you dealerships do business. You throw whatever cheap stuff you can get your hands on in there to increase your own profit. Well, I’m not having it with my car. I want the real quality stuff, the American stuff. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Worker: “Sir—”

Customer: “I drive for a hundred miles or however long the warranty is for, then on mile hundred-and-one it breaks and I’m back here getting another replacement. I’m not having it. No more cheap stuff from China or Korea or whatever place you are getting them from. I want guaranteed American quality. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Worker: “I understand your frustration. I assure you—”

Customer: “—I want you to “assure” me that the parts are going to be American. If you don’t have any on hand, I want you to order them. I’m willing to wait, but I’m not going to have any more overseas s*** in my car.”

Worker: “We have the highest quality products that will work in your car, and I can offer you an extended warranty if you would like.”

Customer: “You’re not listening to me. Even if your overseas stuff isn’t “cheap” I want to buy American. Support our businesses. It’s the principle of the thing.”

The conversation is still going on when my car is called. I’m texting my husband the story as it goes on, and we wonder how he could think a company called “Toyota” was American.