I’m a new worker in a bead store located in a busy tourist marketplace. The word “Bead” was right in the name of our store. A customer wanders in, looks around, and squints.

Customer: “Where’s the bread?”

Me: “No bread here, sir. We do beads.”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll get a loaf of that.”

Me: “No, sir, it’s not bread. Beads, like, colorful little glass pebbles.”

Customer: “That sounds like a choking hazard!”

Me: “Sir, look around. No bread. Nothing but colourful beads here. Nothing edible.”

Customer: *Getting it, then angrily embarrassed.* “Well, you should make it more obvious from outside!”

After he leaves, my manager and I share a chuckle. She then walks over to a little whiteboard in the corner that’s split into two columns. She adds a line to the column named ‘bread’.

Me: “Ah, I wondered what the bread/bean board was for…”

I’m a tourist, visiting Istanbul, Türkiye. I’m trying to enjoy the markets, but a lot of very aggressive sellers keep targeting me as a single woman:

Seller #1: “Pretty lady! I sell the best furs in Istanbul! They would look good on you!”

Seller #2: “A fur coat for the lady! You’d look fashionable both here and at home!”

Eventually, I would interrupt them mid-sentence:

Seller #3: “Would the lady be interested in a fur—”

Me: “—I am a vegan! How could you?! Furs are disgusting! Leave me alone, you murderer!”

I would glare angrily until they backed off.

I’m not vegan, and I’m okay with furs. I just don’t like annoying sellers.

This happened a few years ago. At the time, I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman living in Germany, a country famous for its punctuality, orderliness… and not exactly for warm fuzzies. For reasons unknown to me, though, people often find me “adorable.” 

It’s not always helpful, especially professionally, but occasionally it comes with unexpected perks. Also worth noting: tipping here isn’t as common or expected as it is in the US; rounding up a bit is normal, but big tips are rare.

My boyfriend at the time and I are strolling through a Christmas market when I spot a cotton candy stall. The prices are listed clearly: the smallest size is €3, the largest €8.

Me: “Ooooh, cotton candy!”

Boyfriend: *Grinning.* “Would you maybe like a cotton candy?”

Me: *Enthusiastically.* “Yes, please!”

The vendor has clearly seen and heard our little exchange, because as we walk up, he’s beaming at me.

Vendor: “Hello there, sweetheart!”

In Germany, calling a grown woman “sweetheart” like this is not typical. At all. It’s something you’d say to a toddler or your significant other, not a random adult customer.

Me: *Playing along.* “Yes, please, mister!”

Vendor: “What size would you like? Like this?” *He holds his hands fairly close together.* “Or this?” *A bit further apart.*

Me: “Hmmm… like this, please!”

I hold my hands apart, signalling a reasonably large size. The vendor laughs and spreads his arms even wider.

Vendor: “You mean like this?”

His arms are now stretched as far apart as possible, like he’s about to give me a massive bear hug.

Me: *Laughing.* “Yes! That, please!”

Vendor: “Say no more.”

He proceeds to make the biggest cotton candy his machine can possibly handle, easily larger than the €8 option.

Vendor: *Handing it over with a flourish.* “Et voilà! That’ll be €3. Merry Christmas!”

My boyfriend, who’s been laughing the whole time, pulls out a €20 note.

Boyfriend: “Keep the change. A very merry Christmas to you, too!”

After completing basic officers’ school and my military occupational specialty (MOS) training in the early 80s, I spent three years in the Far East – Japan, Korea, and the Philippines. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but there were certainly some interesting aspects (good and bad) to being a young, round-eye female lieutenant in that part of the world at that time. 

As an example, my regiment went to the Chor-Won valley in South Korea for a training exercise, and the health, morale, and welfare people (HMW) made sure that we all got at least one chance to visit the shopping mecca that was Itaewon in Seoul. I quickly found out that I was seriously handicapped by my reluctance to haggle. It just wasn’t in my genes, I guess, and I know that I was overcharged for many of my souvenirs.

This is when 2^nd Lt Twardowski (not her real name) took me under her wing. She was a stunning, tough-as-nails redhead who had gotten a commission from the enlisted ranks, and if there was anywhere she hadn’t been or anything she hadn’t seen, it would very much surprise me. Watch and learn, she advised as we approached a street vendor peddling a selection of adorable stuffed toys.

Lieutenant: “How much for bear?”

Vendor: “Eight thousand won for beautiful American lieutenant!” *About $5.75.*

Lieutenant: *Shaking her head and looking sorrowful.* “Too much! Two thousand won is all I can pay.”

Vendor: “Oh, beautiful American lieutenant, you are rich officer, you got lots of dollars!”

Lieutenant: *Lowering her voice and speaking confidentially.* “No, I am WOMAN officer. I get HALF of MAN officer pay.”

A bald-faced lie, but unfortunately, in Korea in the 1980s, it made perfect sense. Although her first offer was never accepted, eventually she would get what she wanted for much lower prices than the rest of us could. I never saw her technique fail.

I regularly sell at one of the largest flea markets in the region. As it’s a flea market, everything is cash. Some of what I sell is high value, so I need to carry a fair bit of cash, and this does attract some interesting individuals. 

Last time I was there, I had some particularly pricey items on my tables and was approached by an individual who wanted to handle everything. Literally everything. He occupied most of my attention for the better part of ten minutes during the busiest part of the day. Part of the game, but still…

After all of the time spent buying nothing, he wanted to talk. Great.

He opens with:

Customer: “You know this is a concealed carry state. If I were selling here, I’d have a piece right here with me.”

Yes, he said piece.

Prominently posted at every entry is a no weapons sign. The law does not allow carry at places of assembly, in general, due to the risks in a large crowd. 

I am not averse to firearms. I am comfortable with them. I own several and regularly use them on a firing range. No way in h*** am I going to bring one to a place with thousands of people crammed in, where “defending my rights” is more likely to end up with innocent people hurt than anything else if someone tries to rob me.

Mr. Second Amendment was not happy when I told him what he was full of.