(I have a summer job at the reception of a hotel in Prague’s city centre, and our guests are mainly tourists. It is July 3rd. We have two national public holidays coming up, one on July 5th and second on July 6th. Neither is really celebrated unless it’s an anniversary year. The guests are clearly Americans; one of them has an American flag around his suitcase. There are four guys in total, somewhere from thirty to forty years old. They are generally pleasant and cooperate during the check-in.)

Me: “All right, you are all set. Can I help you with anything else? Any places you would like to visit and need directions for?”

Guest: *with the American flag on his suitcase* “Where are the celebrations? What is a good spot to watch the fireworks?”

Me: “Oh, the holidays are on July 5th and July 6th. Unfortunately, there won’t be any festivities. Only some places might be closed, and others might have different opening hours. But definitely nothing major.”

Guest: “What?!”

(He has been really nice up to this moment; however, he starts to raise his voice.)

Another Guest: “The fourth of July.”

Me: “Oh, you mean the American Independence Day?”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid that here in the Czech Republic we do not celebrate the American holiday.”

Guest: “But we came here to celebrate it!”

(After that, the manager came down to the reception and dealt with them. All four guys seemed to be genuinely perplexed that there wouldn’t be any festivities to mark American Independence day in the middle of Europe. However, my manager was quick on his feet and suggested that they look for some Facebook group for expats living in Prague to find some Americans living in Prague that might be celebrating. When I asked my manager about the idea, it turned out they were not the first ones to ask about it.)

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This story happened to my sister. We are from Chile, but she was traveling in Europe when this happened. She got onto a train in Prague and a random guy got into the compartment where she was, and started to talk very fast in English. He told her that he had to go to the next city because of an emergency and that he would have to leave his wife alone without a penny. They only had one credit card he would need for the trip, so he needed cash. He promised my sister that if she gave something, he would return it when they arrive at the next station.

My sister realised that this was a scam from the first moment, but she was afraid that he could do something to her, as she was traveling alone. In that moment she remembered that she had some Chilean money, so she took her wallet and timidly said, “I only have Chilean money on me right now; I would love to help you, so here you go,” and she handed him 1000 Chilean pesos — a little more than a US dollar.

When the guy saw the 1000, he got the biggest smile of victory and hurried down the train never to be seen again.

To this day we laugh at the guy, thinking about his face the day he went to the money exchange and they give him just a Euro.

(I work in a quite expensive clothing store. Today an American couple comes in. The lady chooses a bunch of expensive dresses she would like to try on. Most of them are not the best choice for her figure. She chooses dresses that look good only on someone who is model-like flat. The lady is very unhappy about how the dresses look on her, but refuses any options we present to her, which would look really gorgeous on her. Because the dresses she tries on and refuses are starting to pile up, I ask my coworker to take them away and put them on the racks again. The whole time, she is really rude, calling us names and accusing us of giving her wrong sizes. The man with her calls us nothing but “third worlders.”)

Woman: “Where are you taking them?”

Me: “Just back to the boutique. I thought you didn’t like any of them. I am sorry if I was mistaken. Do you want to keep any of them?”

Woman: “No, I don’t like any of those skinny-a** b****y-as-you dresses!”

Me: “All right, is it then okay to take them back?”

Woman: “NO! I tried them on, you stupid b****; you cannot put them back!”

Me: “I am sorry?”

(I am taken aback, as I did not expect this and I am not used to people swearing on me.)

Woman: “Can’t you speak English? That’s the only good language! Don’t speak that bulls*** of yours!”

(We have not been speaking in Czech because customers are sometimes unhappy about us speaking anything they cannot understand.)

Me: “I apologise, madam, but since you do not plan on buying any of those, what would you like me to do with them? There might be some other customer that would like them and—”

Woman: *interrupts me* “C***, I tried them, b****. No one else can try them now, b****! They can’t wear them; I did!” *spews a bunch of vulgar words*

Me: “I am deeply sorry, madam, but if you are not going to buy them, anyone else can. We cannot just dispose of these dresses just because someone tried them on and did not like them.”

Woman: “I am not buying anything here! You are just a useless little c***!”

Man: “These f****** third-worlders are for nothing! We are leaving your s***-covered store!”

(They left. Up to this day, I have never had a customer like this. They can be snotty and think they are better than us. But no one has ever been so vulgar to me.)

This story is part of the Swearing roundup!

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(I work tech support. After standard verification, we ask for the issue.)

User: “I need to unlock my computer.”

Me: “Okay, just give me a minute; this should be a really easy fix.”

(I look at usual tools for unlocks, because that usually means that user’s account is locked.)

Me: “That is strange; I cannot see anything locked there. What is the application you are trying to access?”

User: “It is not an application; my computer is locked.”

Me: “Do you mean that your computer is physically locked?”

User: “Yes.”

Me: “Like in a box with a lock on it?”

User: “Yes, exactly.”

Me: “Did you set some code for it? I would guess it would be something like year of your birth, or something like that.”

User: “No, they gave me that with a code.”

Me: “Give me a moment. I will look for a locksmith in your area.”

(My colleague suggested that user should request blowtorch or sledgehammer.)

(It’s nearly Christmas and we are finishing the decorations in our living room, including our so-called “Angelic quartet”. It’s a local variation to American “Elf on the Shelf,” with four winged plaster statuettes, nearly the size of newborn babies, sitting and playing, so you can arrange them on the furniture around the Christmas tree, and creep the hell out of any normal guy like me. I make a throwaway comment:)

Me: “I could really do without these dead children.”

(Later, at lunch, my nine-year-old granddaughter suddenly turns to my wife, and asks:)

Granddaughter: “Grandma, why does Grandpa call the little angels ‘dead children’?”

Grandma: “Yes, honey, why do you call them that?”

(The ungrateful bunch of cockroaches I call “family” put down their utensils and look at me expectantly, stopping short of grabbing popcorn.)

Me: “You know, some people believe that if a little baby dies, they immediately get wings and become angels, so they can fly to visit their families any time they feel sad and alone.”

(My granddaughter looks at me, pondering, then turns to my wife:)

Granddaughter: “Grandpa is also a bit of a joker, right?”

(I still call it a win!)