Being Trilingual Is Such A Burden Sometimes

, , , , | Right | February 12, 2021

I am the somewhat stupid customer here. It’s a Sunday morning and I’m browsing a baked goods stall for breakfast. I’m on this island unexpectedly because there were rough seas and our ship had to divert to a different port, so I’m still adjusting.

Me: “I’d like twelve of the beignets with cheese.”

Merchant: “The beignets. You want twelve for six Euros?”

Me: *Suddenly in Italian* “Yes, for six.”

Merchant: *In French* “Pardon?”

Me: *Laughing, speaking in French* “I’m sorry. I just arrived from Italy and still think in their language.”

Merchant: *Laughing* “I thought you were American.”

Me: “Oh, I am. I’m just very confused today.”

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An Apologetic Customer Is Never Eggs-pected

, , , , | Right | June 28, 2020

I am shopping at the local farmer’s market and my last stop is the stand where I usually buy eggs. The lady who runs the stand is always incredibly patient and nice, and let’s just say I am being an airhead this day.

Me: “Hello. I’d like a dozen eggs, please.”

Farmer: “Oh, I’m sorry. I only have a half-dozen eggs.”

I stupidly think she means she has only half-cartons.

Me: “That’s okay; I’ll just take two of those.”

Farmer: *Hesitates* “Um, no, I mean that I literally only have six eggs.”

She pulls out her last carton, opens it, and shows me that there are only six eggs inside.

Farmer: “The last person only bought six and this was my last carton.”

Me: “Oh, my God, I am so stupid. Sorry about that, and thank you very much!”

I left rather embarrassed, and without any eggs.

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Only One Brain Cell Per Customer

, , , , | Right | June 16, 2020

On certain sale items, there is a limit on how many a customer can buy. For this particular item, it’s limited to one per customer.

Customer: “Excuse me, how much are these?”

Me: “Those are $6.99, but there is a limit of one per customer.”

Customer: “Oh.”

The customer puts two on the counter.

Me: “No, you can only get one.”

The customer just stares blankly. I repeat the above two lines about three times.

Me: *Giving up* “Okay, then, I’ll just ring these two up and your total is—”

Customer: “Oh, wait! $6.99? Can I get two more?”

Me: “No, these items are one per customer. You can only buy one. I’ll give you these two but you can’t buy any more. Because you’re only supposed to buy one. Because there’s a limit.”

The customer just stares blankly again.

Me: “You see this item? You can only buy one but I’m letting you buy two. You cannot buy more.” 

Customer: “Oh… Well, okay, then.”

She paid and walked off with a confused look on her face, still not quite understanding.

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A Mark Of Child Labor

, , , | Right | May 27, 2020

We’re managing flea markets. Our “customers” are people selling stuff they no longer need, and they have to pay a fee based on the length of their market stand, while children’s stands are free. This happens while we still have the DM rather than the Euro.

Collector: “All right, that will be forty marks.”

Customer:What?! I was told it’s ten per meter and that children are free. This should just be thirty marks!”

Collector: “Yes, that is right, and your daughter can sell her toys for free. However, your own market stand is over four metres long, so thirty is not enough.”

Customer: “Fine, here’s your money; this is robbery!” *To the daughter* “Give me ten marks; you have to chip in if you want to sell.”

Collector: “Uh, sorry, but as I said, your daughter’s table is free.”

Customer: “Mind your own d*** business!”

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Something Fishy About This Complaint

, , , | Right | May 14, 2020

I work at a small fish market inside of a much larger store. A lot of my customers are elderly people who bring their kids or spouses along to help with shopping. I am wrapping up a filet of catfish for an elderly woman on a motorcart.

Me: “Can I get anything else for you?”

The customer’s son butts in.

Customer’s Son: “No. It’s just for her. I don’t eat frozen fish.”

I am thinking he is worried about the quality.

Me: “The catfish is fresh, sir. It hasn’t been frozen yet.”

Customer’s Son: “No, all the fish in this store is previously frozen. How else do they get it to you?”

Me: “Sir, they overnight all of our fresh fish in thermal packages with ice packs. I could show you one, if you’d like.”

Customer’s Son: “No, lady, I’d rather catch my own fish.”

Me: “Oh, I understand.”

Customer’s Son: “In fact, I go fishing with that guy over there, the one that’s turned away from you.”

I turn to look with no idea who he’s talking about.

Customer’s Son: *Getting impatient* “You know, your boss! I fish with your boss!”

I turn away to change my gloves.

Me: “Okay, then. Have a nice day.”

The best part? My boss is a woman.

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