(This entire conversation, except for one word, takes place in Estonian. My father’s English isn’t very good, but he does know a lot of words.)
Father: “What was the name of the new British prince again?”
Me: “George.”
Father: “Jaws? That’s an odd name for a kid. Wait, is the entire British royalty named after body parts?”
This story is part of our Father’s Day roundup.
(I work in a store that sells kitchen utensils. A customer has put some items on the counter, including a packaged knife. The knife is a very bright colour, and as she puts it down, her four-year-old daughter reaches out to grab it.)
Customer: “No, honey. I have to pay for it first, but you can play with it when we get home.”
Me: “Excuse me, but that’s a knife, not a toy.”
Customer: “I know it’s a knife; it’s one of those plastic ones. She can have it.”
Me: “No, it’s a real knife. It’s very sharp; it will cut her.”
Customer: “No, it’s plastic. Look at the colour.”
Me: “That’s a painted-on coating. Look right on the edge; you can see the metal edging of the blade.”
Customer: “Oh, well, what’s that for? It’s obviously plastic.” *points to a separate plastic item in the package*
Me: “That’s the scabbard, to protect and cover the blade.”
Customer: “Oh. We don’t want it, then.” *turns to daughter* “You can’t have the knife, because the mean lady said so.”
Hopping online one day, I notice I have a message with an attachment, and open it. What is enclosed is adult imagery. This alone catches me off guard, enough to stop and wonder what is going on.
That’s when my mother, who is on the phone with my grandmother, looks at my computer and shouts, “ARE YOU LOOKING AT P*RN?!”
Instantly I can hear my grandmother laughing through the speaker, and I have to explain the situation. After that my mother explains everything to my grandmother, who can’t stop laughing.
(A customer has a bad signal issue that we have to dispatch a technician for during a busy part of the year.)
Me: “We have an opening in two days.”
Customer: “Two days?! No cable for two days? Well, who’s gonna watch my kids?!”
(I am about eight years old, and my mom has allowed me to pick something out from a dollar store with money I’ve earned. I have a dollar and a few pennies in my wallet, and am excited to pick out a brand new toy. I quickly find one I like and approach the cash register.)
Cashier: “That will be one dollar, plus seven cents sales tax.”
Me: *not understanding why my toy isn’t one dollar* “Uh, seven cents?”
(The cashier nods politely as I pull out one dollar and six pennies from my wallet. Seeing that I am one penny short, I burst into tears.)
Cashier: *a bit startled* “Are you okay?”
Me: *trying to calm down* “I just need to talk to my mom for a minute.”
(I rush to my mom, flat-out sobbing. My mom isn’t even fazed as she hands me a penny from her own wallet without even asking what happened. I dry my eyes and buy my toy from the very confused cashier.)
Me: *as cheerfully as if nothing had happened* “Bye! Have a good day!”
Cashier: “Bye…”
(I learned two things that day. For one, parents are literally telepathic. And two, cashiers that have to put up with people like my younger self deserve lots of respect in return!)
