My dad is old, Chinese, and an amateur photography fanatic. He uses either somewhat outdated or formal English for a lot of things, and at home, we speak in a mix of mostly Chinese and a little English for words I’m unfamiliar with or words he’s too lazy to use Chinese for.

My dad and I were visiting a museum, and we were sitting in the museum cafe. Somehow, the conversation led to him dropping this particular gem.

Dad: *In Chinese* “We’re here at the museum for one thing only, and that’s—” *in English* “—shooting.”

He paused for a moment; it felt horribly long but was only around two seconds.

Dad: *In English* “… photos.”

I facepalmed and started laughing nervously; a few people had looked our way.

Me: *In Chinese* “Dad, please, in the future, just say—” *in English* “—‘taking photos’—” *back to Chinese* “—or don’t pause in the middle! That sounds horrible.”

No, he wasn’t making a “joke”, and no, his addition wasn’t him realizing how awkward it sounded. He truly just happened to take a pause between the two words.

I’ve worked in an office-type job for a few years now. I mostly handle assistant admin tasks, although I sometimes also work on “field jobs”.

My supervisor, and partner, ended up retiring a bit early due to health reasons, and they hired a new person to fill that vacancy. The new guy did pretty well. They had a decent understanding of the field, and whatever they didn’t know outright, they picked up fairly quickly when instructed. Their only issue was personal space.

I am color-blind. No, I don’t see everything as grey, but I have difficulties separating certain colors from each other. It’s the one thing I bring up during those “tell an interesting fact about yourself” talks, and so the new hire knew this. However, it was still very personal, and it made me feel vulnerable.

A week or so after the new hire started, I stepped out of the office for a quick personal call. When I came back, I realized something was wrong with my computer. Obviously, I could see that something was going on, but I had major trouble reading what was on the screen.

At this point, my new coworker started laughing. It turned out that they had thought to “prank” me for forgetting to lock out my computer. How? By changing the colours of my interface to something I couldn’t recognize — not just changing the wallpaper or something, but by literally pointing out my disability and making me unable to do my job.

I couldn’t handle it. I started crying and basically had a panic attack. The next I remember, I was in a manager’s office, probably after trying to explain what happened. I don’t remember much else besides that they told me to go home and call them once I felt better.

When I got back, the new hire was nowhere to be seen. We might not have the ADA, but we have some officials that take care of people with disabilities.

In the late 1980s, the XO [Executive Officer] on my dad’s ship at the time told the sailors going out on the town that Spanish cops carried automatic weapons — but don’t worry; they use rubber bullets.

After some drinking, one of the sailors decided it would be fun to go down the street smashing the mirrors off of cars. A pair of cops caught him in the act and yelled for him to stop. He didn’t stop but instead ran.

It turned out the XO was wrong about one thing: they were not using rubber bullets. The captain, on being informed that one of his sailors was recovering from gunshot wounds before being processed into jail, decided it was best to leave the sailor to deal with all legal consequences there and that someone else back in Virginia could handle the rest.

This is the same XO who got relieved of duty, on the very same cruise, because he also kept getting arrested in foreign ports.

I was a tourist visiting Spain with a large tour group from the US. One morning at the hotel’s breakfast buffet, one of my fellow tourists started yelling at a staff member.

Tourist: “Mustardo!”

The staff member looked very confused. Annoyed about the delay and about someone in my group making us look bad, I spoke to him in English.

Me: “What do you want?”

Tourist: “Mustard. I’m trying to make a sandwich.”

Me: “That’s not the word for mustard in their language. Or any language. Ugh, you’re making us all look bad.”

I pulled out my phone and opened the Google Translate app.

Me: “It’s mostaza.”

It turns out they did not have mustard at this hotel, anyway.

I am a waiter in a restaurant in a town in Spain that gets a few tourists. Our restaurant is in a small alleyway (medieval town = lots of thin alleyways!) with al-fresco dining running its length.

I am checking on one of our outdoor tables when one of the diners flags me down. She is American. I am usually assigned the tourists since I am half British and my English is fluent.

Customer: “You need to do something about that disgusting display!”

Me: “What display, ma’am?”

Customer: “That woman has her breasts out for all to see!”

She points to one of our outdoor diners at the end of an alley, talking to her group of friends quietly and casually. She is also breastfeeding her child.

Me: “Ah, I see. I understand that’s not a common sight in the US, but here, it’s quite normal to—”

Customer: “I don’t care! I have my teenage boys with me and it’s offensive to expose them to… to that!“

Now that she mentions it, her two sons (I’m guessing around fourteen to fifteen) do seem to be enjoying the view.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s not prohibited to breastfeed outside in our establishment.”

Customer: “I’ve never been so offended!”

I try to deflect her outrage.

Me: “Have you and your family been to the beach yet?”

Customer: “No, we just got here! Why is that relevant?”

Me: “I’m just thinking that if a woman breastfeeding is enough for you to worry about your sons, then you might be in for a surprise when you hit the Spanish beaches. Topless women are the norm there.”

Customer: “What?! What kind of ungodly country is this?!”

Me: “One that’s 90% Catholic, ma’am. Would you like to see the dessert menu?”

I didn’t mean to be so sassy, but it did at least make her think!

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