Me, Myself, And I Are Confused

, , , | Right | April 5, 2020

(A young woman with a baby in a stroller walks in and picks up a [Designer] product. It is a notepad that has the title, “Me, myself, & moi.”)

Customer: “Hey, what is M.O.I?”

Me: “Oh, on that notepad? It’s not ‘M-O-I,’ it’s ‘Moi’.”

Customer: *blank stare* “Well, what the heck is ‘moi’?”

Me: “Oh, you know… moi? The French word for ‘me.’ That notepad says, ‘Me, myself, & moi.'”

Customer: “So, it’s saying, ‘Me, myself, & me?'”

Me: “Yes. It’s a pretty common phrase, actually.”

Xeroing In On The Problem

, , , , | Right | April 5, 2020

(I’m behind the circulation desk at the library.)

Patron: “Hey, can you show me how to use the copier?”

(There is a copy machine, though minding it isn’t supposed to be my job. I walk him through the steps.)

Me: “Okay, you either put your original in this tray, or you can lift the lid and put it directly on the glass. Then, put in ten cents and—”

Patron: “Woah! Woah! I want a COPY! Not a Xeroc!”

(Yes, he does say it like “Xeroc.”)

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patron: “I knew I should have gone to [Shipping Company]!”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir—”

Patron: “If you put it through the tray it’s a copy, but if you lift the lid and put it on the glass it’s a Xerox! The judge won’t take a Xeroc!”

Me: “Sir, I assure you they’re the same thing.”

Patron: “I’ve spent a lot of money on this divorce! I’m not getting it thrown out because I showed up with a Xeroc!”

Me: “I assure you that Xerox is just another name for a copy, and you don’t have to use the lid if you don’t want to.”

Patron: “He said to bring a copy! Not a Xeroc!”

Me: “Okay, but here, look.”

(I make a copy with each method, and show them both to him.)

Me: “They’re exactly the same.”

Patron: “I knew I should have used [Shipping Company]! You don’t know anything!”

(He grabbed his copies and stormed out.)

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Karma Instantáneo

, , , , , , | Working | April 5, 2020

(I’m on a four-day high school trip. After we stop for lunch on the way home, I go with a friend to a nearby gas station/corner store so she can buy some candy for the remaining fourteen hours of the bus ride. While she gets her candy, I start looking for a cheap souvenir, since everything in the hotel gift shop was either ridiculously expensive or simply impractical to travel with. I’m still looking when my friend pays for her candy, so she stands outside the store while I try to pick something out. Finally, I pick something and bring it to the counter. The cashier, a friendly young black man, has been cheery with my friend and absolutely nothing at all notable has happened so far. Neither I nor my friend look even remotely Latino or Hispanic, so I’m a little surprised when he starts speaking to me in Spanish, just as happily as before.)

Cashier: “¡Hola! ¿Como estás?”

(I’m surprised, but I smile and speak with next to no trace of my American accent.)

Me: “Cansado. ¿Y tu?”

(The cashier is clearly thrown off.)

Cashier: “Oh, s***.”

(His coworker, who heard everything in the back room, started laughing so hard that I thought he was going to fall off the small ladder I could see him standing on. I quickly told the cashier that I spoke English and was taking Spanish as a second language. He said that he sometimes did the Spanish to have some fun with customers, and he definitely didn’t expect me to try to start a conversation. The back room employee kept laughing about how “you showed him!” while the cashier rang up my souvenir. He was still laughing when I said, “¡Gracias, adios!” on my way out. I sometimes wonder if the back room guy ever let the cashier live down that little Spanish encounter or if it became some sort of cautionary tale about not trying to confuse customers.)

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See If They Ever Come Again

, , , , , , , | Friendly | April 3, 2020

We were catching up with some friends for a chat. Being a gracious host, I offered them a drink. She wanted coffee and he wanted tea.

While the teabag was steeping in the cup, I asked, “Are you a two-, three- or four-minute man?”

I’ve no idea why his wife was laughing so hard.

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At Least His Sense Of Humor Isn’t Dead, Too

, , , , , , | Friendly | April 1, 2020

We had a relatively new phone number, and once every few weeks, we’d get a call from someone speaking Spanish. My Spanish is “muy malo” (very bad), but I could tell he was looking for José. I’d ask, “Habla Inglés?” but he obviously did not, so I’d hang up.  

Every few weeks, he’d call back looking for José. I suspected we had José’s old phone number and it was on this guy’s speed dial, but he never got around to changing it.

Again, he called, asking for José. In desperation, I faked a cry and said, “José es muerto! José es muerto!”

He let out a loud belly laugh and hung up, and we never heard from him again. I assume this prompted him to update his speed dial.

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