(I am in a freshman-level French language class. The professor is a native of France, and is correcting the pronunciation of a friend of mine, who is a bit of a class clown.)
Professor: “No, no, no! You are speaking French with an Oklahoma accent!”
Student: “Well, why not? You’re speaking ‘Oklahoman’ with a French accent!”
(This happened with a co-worker of mine a few years ago. The coffee shop is well-known and is located inside a very popular retail store. This is one of the most unusual requests he had ever gotten from a customer.)
Him: Hello, ma’am, what can I get started for you today?
The customer: Uh, yes, may I have a coffee that doesn’t taste like a coffee?
[Him and another co-worker stared at each other for a minute bewildered at her request; he turns back to her, and says:]
Him: Umm, we have the [a drink] that you may like.
The customer: Okay, I’ll try that.
[She pays for it; he makes it for her; and places it on the counter]
Him: Enjoy, ma’am!
[She takes a sip of the coffee, gives him a disgusted look, and walks off with the drink in hand.]
His partner: Okay then. That was just weird.
Him: Yeah that was.
( I am 13 , working in a supermarket as a bagger , along with another employee . A very Burly looking white man , covered in tattoos and sweat stains on his shirt , walks in towards the end of my shift . Note , my coworker is from a Spanish family , her hair is dark brown , and her skin is tan . the man gets his groceries and comes to my till , since it is the only one open at the moment . He stares at my coworker through the entire transaction )
Customer: Are you Mexican ?
Coworker: * already scanning the customers items* I’m Spanish , Why ?
Customer: Why are you taking jobs from good , hardworking white folk ?
Coworker: I need to support my family . My father works at (local roofing company) and my mother works at (popular law firm) . *tapping away on the register* sir , that will be (price)
Customer: I’m not giving my hard earned money to a D*** mexican . B**** .*slaps the side of her head , leaving a huge red mark , that will most likely bruise*
Coworker: *speachless*
Customer: You’re taking jobs from white folk ! i will not stand for it . get me your manager ! now !
Me: * walking around the till , to stand in front of the customer , note : I am a 5’2 female , who is very petite compared to this man * sir , Our manager is Latino . And this is Harassment . She is not a B**** , She simply works her a** off unlike some people . She works harder than all of the white people in this market combined . I can call the police , and give them the security tapes . you will be charged . I am refusing you service . now get out or i will call the police * picks up my cell phone to show im not kidding *
Customer: I-I… * storms out , flustered*
( that was 5 years ago and now my coworker is married with 2 children , and she owns a larger store in the supermarkets chain!)
(Because my daughter is waiting for me outside my home and I’m headed home from work, I am in a bit of a hurry to get a few items for dinner and go. I get into the “15 items or less [sic]” line where there are two cashiers. The guy at the near cashier has a mostly full cart, but fortunately he’s reached the point to have to pay so I figure this won’t be a problem. The second cashier tries to wave me over but I point to the other customer’s cart positioned so I can’t get past and I make a shrug and palms-up motion. I figure I’ll wait it out. But then I get frustrated as the other customer — who appears to be about my own age — is struggling with the credit-card reader. I sigh internally and wait for him to finally finish and go. I throw my four items on the counter and after he’s out of earshot and say:)
Me: “So how many customers come through who seem like they’ve never seen one of these before?”
Cashier: *laughing* “You would be amazed. It was just as bad before the switch.” *meaning adding the ability to read the chips in cards now, not just swipe*
Me: “And how many still use checks?”
Cashier: “Also way too many. I thought those were gone. I’ll take your rewards card.” *which she quickly scans and hands back*
Me: “Me, too. I guess they use the excuse that they are old.” *I pause* “I am old and I know how to use these things, so what’s their excuse?”
Cashier: *laughing* “You have a great day, sir.”
Me: “You, too.”
(The whole thing was done that fast. And who says you can’t have a friendly conversation in the fast lane?)
(There is a grocery store in town that does not allow customers to use their own bags. They also bag badly. I’ve come out of there with 12 items in 16 bags in the past. Today I bought about half a basket of stuff and sighed as the cashier bagged so many things one to a bag despite my protests.)
Me: “Wait. Please put both packages of meat in the same bag. This is getting ridiculous.”
Cashier: “We don’t bag two kinds of meat together. Cross contamination.”
Me: “They aren’t two kinds of meat. They are both beef.”
Cashier: “One is hamburger. One is roast.”
Me: “Yes. One is ground beef and the other is a chunk of beef.”
Cashier: “We don’t bag two kinds of meat together. Cross contamination.”
Me: “They are not two different kinds of meat. One is labeled ground chuck and the other is labeled chuck roast. They are both beef. They both come from cows.”
Cashier: “No, they don’t.”
Me: *totally surprised* “What? Of course they do. They are two cuts of beef, and beef is cow meat.”
Cashier: “Cows are for dairy.”
Me: “Cattle. Cows. Steers. Beef. Please just bag the meat together.”
Cashier: “We don’t bag two kinds of meat together. Cross contamination.”
Me: “Both kinds of meat came off the same animal.”
Cashier: “No, they don’t. We don’t bag two kinds of meat together. Cross contamination.”
(I just stared at her in amazement. I’m not from here. My accent makes that clear. But she spoke with a very local accent. I live two miles out of town and five miles from this store. I had to pass three huge herds of cattle to get there. How could anyone from this area not know where beef/chuck/hamburger/roast comes from?)
