I overhear two tourists talking on the New York subway.
Tourist #1: “Wow, these trains have so much graffiti on them.”
Tourist #2: “How is there so much graffiti on trains if they never stop moving?”
Tourist #1: “The New York graffiti artists must be able to do it super-fast. Maybe that’s what a New York minute is.”
I’m helping a customer plan a multi-country trip.
Me: “Now on to the paperwork. Are you a US citizen?”
Customer: *Immediate and glaring.* “Yes! Of course! I’m a patriot!”
Me: “I… uh, I’m actually asking about citizenship; specifically, which passport you hold. It’s so I can tell you what travel documents you’ll need.”
She looks slightly confused, then angry, but nods.
Customer: “Well… yes, I have a US passport!”
Me: “Great! That’s all I needed.”
Customer: “Well, you didn’t have to question my patriotism!”
Me: “I didn’t, I just asked about your paperwork.”
Customer: “I’m an American! I don’t need papers! You sound like the passport police!”
Me: “Better me than the actual passport police.”
Customer: “Feels like you’re testing my loyalty!”
Me: “Nope, I’m testing your eligibility to board a plane.”
This kept going on for the entire process. Every time I tried to confirm another detail, she added another “question my patriotism!” comment.
A mom and her young son walk into the store.
Customer: “I’m going on a trip, and I won’t have access to my data. I’ll need maps of the rural regions of [countries].”
Me: “Let me show you the map section.”
I take them over there, and we start going through the detailed survey maps of the countries she is visiting. Her son pulls a few more books out and starts flipping through them.
Son: “Hey, Mom, look! They printed Google Maps!”
Mom: “You know they printed maps before Google, right?”
Son: *Confused.* “Before… Google?”
Mom: *To me.* “Now you know why we need a family trip to a place without data!”
I’m giving the usual safety speech for my group on the White-Water Rapids Tour.
Me: “Alright, everyone, expect a lot of turbulence. Keep your feet inside the raft, listen to commands, and—”
A hand shoots up from the back.
Tourist: “Will we get wet?”
There’s a ripple of laughter. I chuckle too, assuming he’s joking.
Me: “Uh… yes. Very.”
Tourist: “No, seriously. I need to know if I’ll get wet.”
The laughter dies, and I realize he’s dead serious.
Me: “Sir… this is white water rafting. The raft will hit waves. Water will splash. That’s… the entire thing.”
Tourist: “Okay, but which seat gets the least wet? I’ll take that one.”
Me: “…None of them.”
Tourist: “What do you mean none? There has to be one. Like the middle seat on a log flume.”
Me: “This isn’t Disneyland. There’s no ‘dry seat.’ This is a river. It does what it wants.”
Tourist: “This is absolutely not what I was sold. The brochure didn’t say anything about getting soaked!”
Me: “The brochure is literally titled ‘Conquer the Rapids.'”
He stomps off to complain to my manager. After the tour heads out, I find the manager by the gear shed and vent. The manager sighs.
Manager: “A few more years here, and you’ll realize how sadly common that is. My first year I had someone ask what we did with all the rocks after ‘the ride.'”
Me: “…What?”
Manager: “I told him we let all the air out and pack them up every evening.”
Some customers are collecting an online order of Canadian dollars.
Me: “These are brand new bills, so they’ll be a little crisp.”
Customer: “Oh, really?! That’s amazing!”
I count the bills and place them in the envelope. She grabs them as soon as I hand them over, sticks her nose in the envelope, and takes a long, loud sniff.
Me: “Uh…”
Customer: *Look of disappointment.* “Oh…”
Me: “Are you okay, ma’am?”
Customer: “I thought they were supposed to smell like maple syrup!”
