Extreme Foreign Interests

| England, UK | At The Checkout, Geography, Language & Words

(I suffered from a speech disorder as a child, and while I speak perfectly now, I have a slight twang in my voice. I’m on the checkout when a smartly-dressed customer approaches the till.)

Me: “Hello! How are you today?”

Customer: “…where are you from?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Where. Are. You. From?”

Me: “Um, I’m local, if that’s what you mean.”

Customer: “No, where were you born?”

Me: “In [local hospital].”

Customer: *sighs* “Where are your parents from?”

Me: “They’re from [local town] and [local city].”

Customer: *getting irate* “I just want you to tell me where you’re from! Explain your accent!”

Me: “Oh! My accent! Yes, there’s an explanation for that; see when I was a kid—”

Customer: “I don’t want to hear your life story! Why are you ashamed of your heritage? You are probably bringing shame to your family by denying them! I get that there are racists here, but you don’t need to deny who you are! I won’t judge you!”

Me: “Sir, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Customer: “Tell me your parents were born in a different country!”

Me: “Um… they were born in [other country]?”

Customer: “Yes! See how easy that is? Why couldn’t you have just said that in the first place?!”

(He grabs his bags and marches off. I turn to the next customer.)

Me: “Afternoon!”

Customer #2: “That was a lie, right?”

Me: “Yep. How can I help you today?”

Doing A Number On The Wrong Number

| UK | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids

(Our home phone number is only one digit different from a local supermarket. We get about one call a month intended for them. I’m about 14 years old.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “I have a complaint.”

Me: “Uh… this isn’t—”

Caller: “You are all incompetent! Why is my delivery so late?”

Me: “Look this is a private number—”

Caller: “I have friends coming over! I’m hosting a dinner party, and I have no food because you are all useless!”

Me: “I’m sorry but—”

Caller: “I want to speak to your manager! I want—”

(I give up and hang up. The phone rings almost immediately.)

Caller: “HOW DARE YOU RANG UP ON ME, YOU B****!”

(I hang up again. The phone rings again.)

Caller: “GIVE ME YOUR SUPERVISOR RIGHT F****** NOW! I’M GOING TO HAVE YOUR JOB, YOU LITTLE S***!”

Me: “Oh, you want to speak to Mum or Dad?”

Caller: “…what?”

Me: “Like I tried to tell you: this isn’t [shop]; this is a home number.”

Caller: *very small voice* “…What?”

Me: “This isn’t [supermarket].”

Caller: “But… but… I called them! WHY ARE YOU ANSWERING THEIR PHONE!?”

(I hang up again, and tell my dad he is answering if she calls back. She does. It is a very short conversation.)

Makes You Want To Dye A Little, Part 5

| UK | At The Checkout, Crazy Requests

(I am a female and have worked in the same supermarket for the past five years. I used to be blond, but I decide to dye my hair red. Most people have commented about how they like the new color, and how it suits me, and how they don’t recognize me.)

Customer: “Oh, I see you have dyed your hair. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Me: “Yeah, I was fed up with the original color, so I went for a change.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t like it. I want you to change it right now.”

Me: “You want me to leave work and pay to have my hair dyed a different color because you don’t like it?”

Customer: “Yes, why is that a problem?”

(The customer then stands there for another five minutes waiting for me to leave the till to go re-dye my hair.)

Me: “Ma’am, I cannot leave my till until I finish work.”

Customer: “Well that is just rude. I expect your hair color to be different when I next come in.”

(The customer walks off. I look at my coworker, who looks just as confused as me.)

Coworker: “Did that really just happen?”

Related:
Makes You Want To Dye A Little, Part 4
Makes You Want To Dye A Little, Part 3
Makes You Want To Dye A Little, Part 2
Makes You Want To Dye A Little