(When I am about eight years old — around 1972 — my class has an essay contest. The topic is “Why I’m Proud To Be Canadian.” I am a pretty decent writer for an eight-year-old, and my essay contains a lot of stuff about the beauty of our country, the freedom we enjoy, and so on. When the time comes to announce the winner of the contest, I am thrilled to hear my name called. I don’t remember what the prize was – a candy bar, I think – but I am just happy to have won. I can’t wait to get home and tell my parents.)

Me: “Mum, Dad, guess what? I won an essay contest at school!”

Mum: “Wow! That’s great! What was the topic?”

Me: “‘Why I’m Proud To Be Canadian’!”

Mum & Dad: *bursts into laughter*

Me: *smile slips off my face* “What’s so funny?”

Mum: *still laughing* “You’re not Canadian, dear. You’re British.”

Me: “But… I mean, I know that I was born in England, but I’m here now.”

Dad: “You’re not a Canadian citizen, though.”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “You have to go through a bunch of paperwork and stuff to be a citizen, and we haven’t done that for you yet. So, you’re not Canadian.”

(He and Mum went to make dinner, still laughing. I’ve never forgotten how let down I felt about their reaction. Plus, I felt like I’d won that contest under false pretenses. I became a Canadian citizen a few years later, at least.)

(Brockville is just half an hour across the Saint Lawrence Seaway from Albany, New York, but the nearest border crossing for vehicles is almost an hour away,  This is approximately one am on a Saturday night drive-thru shift in August.)

Me: “Welcome to [Restaurant]. How may I help you?”

Customer: *obviously inebriated* “What country am I in?”

Me: *thinking I am being pranked* “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Passenger: *in the same car, also inebriated*  “What country is this?”

Me: “Canada. Can I take your order?”

Customer: “Canada? F*** ! Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes, sir, this is Canada. Would you like to order?”

Passenger: “S***. Yeah, get me a cheeseburger, medium fries, and Sprite. Canada, f***!”

Customer: “We don’t have f****** time to eat!” *to me* “Get me a Coke, large onion rings, and a bacon cheeseburger!  Are you sure this is Canada?”

Me: “Yep, this is Canada. What would you like on your burgers?”

Customer: “You’re not f****** with me, are you?”

Me: “No, I’m sure this is Canada. What would you like on your burgers?”

Passenger: “Ketchup, mustard—”

Customer: *interrupting* “I told you we don’t have time to eat if we’re in f****** Canada!” *to me* “I want ketchup and onions.”

Passenger: “If you can f****** eat, so can I. ‘Sides, we can eat in the car, a**hole.” *to me* “I want ketchup, mustard, onions, and extra peppers. We’re really the h*** in Canada?”

Me: “Yes, you are really in Canada! Your total comes to [total].”

(I’m biting my lip trying not to laugh. They drive through to the window.)

Me: “Hi. Your total is [total]; would you like ketchup for your fries and onion rings?”

Customer: “You’re not f****** kidding, are you? This is really Canada?!”

Me: “I’m not kidding. I was born here and I am positive that this is Canada. Would you like ketchup?”

Passenger: “H***, give me the ketchup, since we’re in f****** Canada!”

(I’m taking really deep breaths trying not to laugh, and I’m now also trying to figure out what being in Canada has to do with wanting ketchup on fries.)

Customer: “Do you take American dough?” *under breath* “How the h*** are we in f****** Canada!”

Me: “Yes, we take American money at [percentage], so your total is [total].”

Passenger: “S***. You’re an a**hole!” *hiccups, looks at me, collecting the money* “Oops, not you; he’s the f****** idiot. You’re pretty!”

Me: “Thank you! Here are your food and your change. Enjoy!”

Customer: “How the h*** am I supposed to do that? We’re in f****** Canada?”

(They speed off, leaving me with my head sticking out the drive-thru window trying to get enough air to breathe as I am laughing so hard. Five minutes later, I finally collect myself enough to get back to work, and as I head into the back, I hear my manager call me in a raspy voice. As I enter the office, I see she is still bent over in her chair at the desk with tears on her cheeks.)

Manager: “Are you sure we’re in Canada?”

(I’m a high school sophomore in World History class. We’re doing a unit on the Cold War, and so, naturally, we discuss capitalism versus communism quite a bit. We have an assignment to complete during one of our classes. One of the questions asks for the names of the two modern communist countries. I put down Cuba and China, check my answer on the Internet, and move on. Then, I hear this from another student halfway across the room.)

Student: “Wait, which Alaska is communist again?”

(The worst part is that he’s lived in America all his life and seemed completely serious!)

This story is part of our Ignorant-About-Communism roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

13 Customers Who Are Very Bad With Geography

Read the next Ignorant-About-Communism roundup story!

Read the Ignorant-About-Communism roundup!

Patron: “Can you look up how far it is to go from [City #1] to [City #2] on the computer for me?”

Me: “Sure.” *checks online* “It says here that it’s 54 miles.”

Patron: “Okay… Now, how far is it going back?”

(Two of my coworkers and I have the pleasure of speaking to this customer over the phone on three different occasions within a twenty-minute time span.)

Coworker #1: “Thank you for calling [Store]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’m looking at your website and it says that you’re in Midland?”

Coworker #1: “Yes, we’re in the [Mall] on [Highway].”

Customer: “Okay, so you’re in Ontario?”

Coworker #1: *confused* “Umm, yes, we’re in Ontario. In Midland. In the [Mall]?”

Customer: “Oh, great, and what time are you open until?”

Coworker #1: “We’re open until 9:00 pm.”

Customer: “Great! This night is just really working out! I’ll see you soon!”

Coworker #1: “Okay.”

(A few minutes later, the phone rings.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’m trying to find your location, but my GPS isn’t working! I thought you guys were on Ontario Street!”

Me: “No, we’re on [Highway].”

Customer: “Oooh! But you’re in Midland, though?!”

Me: “Yes, we’re in Midland. In the [Mall].”

Customer: “Okay, I thought you were on Ontario Street! But it’s just Ontario, then.”

Me: *confused* “Yes, Midland, Ontario.”

Customer: “Okay, great. So, what’s the address?”

(I tell him. A few minutes later he calls again and I try to listen to my coworker’s end of the conversation while I ring a customer through.)

Coworker #2: “No, no, we’re on [Highway].” *pause* “Midland, yes.” *pause* “Where are you calling from?” *pause* “No, no, we’re in Midland, Ontario. Midland, Ontario, Canada. North of Toronto.” *pause* “Okay, have a great night.” *hangs up and looks at me* “Yeah, he’s in Texas.”