(I’m the manager of a pizzeria. I have all my employees keep their hair very short and clean-shaven. This happens when a customer comes up after just having been served her pizza. Everyone working this shift also has black hair.)

Customer: “Excuse me, but there’s a long, blond hair in my pizza!”

(She stares at me as though expecting me to do something. She also has long blond hair.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that hair didn’t come from us.”

Customer: “But it’s on my pizza! You have to do something!”

Me: “I don’t know what I can do other than to give you directions to the nearest drug store to buy a comb.”

(I am in an appliance store in Israel. I am a 19-year-old American girl, and the two salesmen are older Russian men. We are all speaking to each other in heavily accented Hebrew, so it is extremely clear that I am an American and they are Russian. I happen to know some Russian as well, but you wouldn’t think so because I seem completely American.)

Me: “How much is this fan?”

Salesman #1: *in Russian* “Should we charge her [normal price]?”

Salesman #2: *in Russian* “No, no. Let’s charge her [very high price].”

(Salesman #1 is now glancing at me unsurely. I continue to smile somewhat expectantly, as if I’m cluelessly still waiting for their final answer.)

Salesman #1: *in Russian* “Umm, what if she understands us?”

Salesman #2: *in Russian* “Nah, she’s just some dumb American girl! We’ll give her [high price]. She doesn’t understand us.”

Me: *in Russian* “I understand.”

(Both salesman looked they were going to melt into the floor. They ended up selling me the fan at a nice cheap price!)

(A new coworker has just started at her job. She seems really nice and normal. I have green/blue eyes.)

Coworker: “Do you wear coloured contacts?”

Me: “No, this is my natural colour.”

(Suddenly, she grabs my arm.)

Coworker: “I REALLY WANT YOUR EYES.”

(She was completely serious: she continued to stare at me for a few seconds before wandering off.)

(A kid is running around with a toy gun until he falls down and breaks it. His mother grabs it and approaches me.)

Mother: “I would like another one of this.”

Me: “No problem, but I need you to pay for the one you broke.”

Mother: “That’s insane! He broke it in your store! That means it’s your responsibility!”

(I point to a huge sign behind me that says, ‘You Break It, You Buy It.’ I have never seen anyone run that fast!)

(Note: A telemarketer is trying to get me to switch internet providers.)

Telemarketer: “…Yes, sir, but our internet’s speed is far higher.”

Me: “Your speed is 10 Mbps.”

Telemarketer: “10 Mbps, but it isn’t the same 10 Mbps of [Competitor]!”

Me: “10 Mbps is 10 Mbps. Let’s say I’m in my car, and I drive at 100 km/h. My brother is in his own car, also driving at 100 km/h, and you’re telling me it’s not the same speed?”

Telemarketer: “But, um… let’s say you have an… I don’t know, um… a Toyota… and he has a BMW.”

Me: “Right, I have a Toyota, and he has a BMW, we both are driving at 100 km/h. Isn’t that the same 100 km/h?”

Telemarketer: “But who will arrive home faster?”

Me: “I promise you that if we both travel at 100 km/h, we’ll arrive at exactly the same time.”

Telemarketer: “I’m sure you would not!”

Me: “What? How are you sure we won’t?”

Telemarketer: “Won’t the BMW arrive before the Toyota?”

Me: “Not if we both travel at 100 km/h!”

Telemarketer: “Isn’t the BMW’s speed higher than the Toyota’s because the vehicle is better?”

Me: “Speed? The speed is 100 km/h. 100 km/h is 100 km/h.”

Telemarketer: “I give up. Just contact us when you get your math straight!”

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