My parents-in-law keep trying to steal these little sugar sachets when they’re on holiday. It annoys the h*** out of me.

So, once, I bought a pack of sugar cubes at the supermarket (~$2), wrapped it nicely, and gave it to them on the first day of our shared holiday.

Me: “Here, so you don’t have to steal them every d*** restaurant we go to.”

It got my wife angry, but I think they got the message.

Now they’re stealing teaspoons.

I work at the help desk in a museum about Ancient Greece. We’re in the same room as some of the statues and artifacts. A visitor approaches and then points at one of the large bronze statues in the room. Due to its incredible age, it has lost its arms.

Visitor: “Did he have arms when he was still alive?”

Me: “Erm, it’s a statue, not a real person.”

Visitor: “No, I mean before he died and became a statue.”

I recently went on my first overseas vacation ever, to Greece, and had an absolute blast. I saw ruins, explored cities, ate exotic food… and that’s where the interesting part of the trip came from.

I was with my in-laws and my wife, and naturally, we went to restaurants whenever we were hungry. Having lived in North America for my entire life, I had a certain expectation of restaurants: you go in, peruse the menu, place your order, get your food, eat it, pay, tip, and go on your way. I already knew that European countries did not generally participate in tipping culture due to paying their servers proper wages, but I didn’t understand how that fundamentally altered the entire business interaction.

Whenever we finished eating, we would chill out with the dishes that we were very obviously done with, chat for a bit, and wait for the bill.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

This happened at every restaurant we went to: after we were done and ready to pay and leave, we would end up waiting twenty or thirty minutes to actually get the bill and pay. We absolutely could not figure it out! The servers seemed to be so attentive to everyone else in the restaurants, the locals, but for the obvious group of tourists, we were just left to wait, and wait, and wait! It was actually getting frustrating!

I finally figured it out on the last day of our trip, watching the locals.

When the locals finished their meals, they absolutely would not pay immediately. Instead, they would sit and chat, and just sort of… hang out. They would pay when they were ready to leave, and no one would hustle them out of there. Because the servers weren’t working for pennies and dependent on tips, they had no reason to move people along and turn the tables over. Everyone was allowed to move at their own pace, pay when they were ready to pay, and leave when they were ready to leave. The servers would expect the customers to approach or signal them that they were done, rather than checking in every few minutes to get things moving.

What a novel experience. I wish we had figured it out sooner.

We’re on holiday in Crete, in one of the larger towns. We’re on one of the main streets, the shops are modern and quite high-end. We stop to buy an ice cream from a booth attached to the front of a restaurant. There are two people serving, in the other queue there is an American lady who communicates entirely by shouting, and has just been told the price of her ice cream.

American Tourist: “YOU TAKE DOLLARS, RIGHT?”

Server: *In perfect English.* “No, ma’am, euros.”

American Tourist: *Waving a $10 bill.* “BUT I HAVE DOLLARS. DOLL-ARS!”

Server: “Sorry, ma’am, we only take euros.”

American Tourist: “YOU SHOULD TAKE DOLLARS LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!”

Server: *Indicating card machine.* “Euros or card.”

At this point, I am just paying for my ice cream by swiping the other card machine. It is an entirely standard modern machine, I don’t know whether it would be normal for the US but it looks exactly like any machine in a UK supermarket.

American Tourist: *Recoiling like the machine has just bitten her.* “WHAT?! THERE’S NO WAY I’M PUTTING MY CARD IN THAT S***TY LITTLE MACHINE. YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY TRYING TO ROB ME!”

Server: “Card, euros, or no ice cream.”

At this point I had paid for my ice cream and left, so I don’t know if she relented. It was jolly good ice cream!

I am working at a resort on one of the Greek islands, bringing some drinks to some guests: a group of women on a “girl’s trip” who have been here for the last week.

Guest #1: “Thanks for taking such good care of us, [My Name]! We’ve had such a great time.”

Me: “I’m so glad to hear it! Such a shame you’re leaving tomorrow, but I hope you will always have fond memories of your time here!”

Guest #2: “Yes, we will! We’ve all been very impressed, especially with how much better your sun is compared to the one we have back home!”

Me: *Chuckles* “That is an interesting way of putting it, but you have had very good weather this week! I’m sure you have sunny spells back home, too.”

Guest #1: “Weather is one thing, but it’s the quality of your sun that’s impressed us! The rays give us such a good tan! I wish we had the same sun as Greece does.”

Confused, I asked them to elaborate, terrified that what I was suspecting was actually not true, but yes… it was. This group of middle-aged women — yes, all FOUR of them — literally thought each country had its own sun, moon, etc. At least they were friendly?