I’d set up a table to sell things at a small event and was talking to a man when his daughter, somewhere around seven to nine, came up to talk to him.
Daughter: “I’m hungry.”
The man starts to open his mouth to reply when the daughter hastily adds:
Daughter: “And don’t call me hungry!”
The man shuts his mouth, then turns to me with a grin.
Man: “She knows me too well.”
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 2nd 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.
