(A restaurant has a promotional mushroom burger. I am easily recognized as a foreigner by looks, and my Turkish is still not perfect. All conversation is in Turkish.)

Me: “I would like to have the mushroom burger.”

Worker: “No problem. It will take some time to prepare it.”

Me: “No problem.”

(I pay and step aside to wait for my food. Just two minutes later, a guy who knows the cashier comes up to him.)

Guy: “I want a mushroom burger. But I am in a hurry!”

Worker: “It will take a while. This woman ordered one, and we prepare it freshly!”

(The guy looks me up and down.)

Guy: “Just give me hers! I am in hurry!”

(I don’t say anything because I am not sure if I understand all of it properly. Instead, I look at the guy’s receipt and I see that indeed we have ordered the same item. After ten minutes or so, the food is ready and I go to grab it, but instead, the guy snatches it.)

Worker: “It is something else!”

(I take the guy’s receipt, which he leaves behind, and say:)

Me: “Then, why is the same item written on the receipt? At least don’t lie!”

Worker: “Uh… I am sorry. I didn’t know that you would understand and notice it!”

(I never went there again. Shortly after, the location closed or moved away.)

Related:
There Is Mushroom For Improvement, Part 3
There Is Mushroom For Improvement, Part 2
There Is Mushroom For Improvement

(I am speaking with my wife while on lunch. She is doing computer work at home.)

Me: “You know, it upsets me that most of the chicken from Louisiana is so mean.”

Wife: “What?”

Me: “Yeah, you know, all that jerk chicken from Louisiana.”

Wife: *typing in the background*

Me: “Hello?”

Wife: “Jerk chicken is Jamaican, not creole.”

Me: “You looked that up, didn’t you?”

Wife: “Yes. I thought you were wrong; I just had to make sure.”

(More conversation, and then…)

Me: “You know, it upsets me that most of the chicken from Jamaica is so mean.”

Wife: *laughs uncontrollably*

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(I’ve just picked my four-year-old son up from preschool and he’s doing what he usually does when I get him: telling me whatever random thoughts cross his mind.)

Son: “I eat, I play, I go potty, and I rest. That’s four! Four things.”

Me: “I have to admit; that’s a fair summary of your day.”

(I am buying a bottle of a well-known brand of carbonated water, among other things. The cashier is probably in her 40s or 50s.)

Cashier: *as she’s ringing me up* “How is this different from regular water?”

Me: “It’s just carbonated water.”

Cashier: “Oh, okay. What flavor?”

Me: “No flavor, just water.”

Cashier: “So, it’s just water?”

Me: “Carbonated water. It was served a lot when I lived in Germany, and I really liked it.”

Cashier: “You lived in Germany? Wasn’t that hard?”

Me: “It was pretty fun, actually.”

Cashier: “But they didn’t speak English, did they?”

Me: “A lot of them did, but I also learned a lot of German over there.”

Cashier: “Oh, that sounds so hard. Whenever I hear those languages on TV, it just sounds like noise. I don’t know how anyone understands it.”

Me: *taking my receipt and slowly trying to detach myself from the conversation* “Well, the Germans manage.”

Related:
Germaniac, Part 6
Germaniac, Part 5
Germaniac, Part 4

(I’m recently married and struggling to get pregnant. I thought I was pregnant, but was just under such extreme stress, I missed a period. This occurs two weeks after I find out I’m not pregnant. I am talking to two coworkers I know really well. I tend to have a dark sense of humor, and if I don’t laugh about bad situations, I’ll cry.)

Me: “Well, at least I no longer need condoms! I can’t get knocked up, anyway!”

(We all laugh.)

Coworker #1: “Seriously, though, what’re the doctors saying?”

(Before I can even say anything:)

Coworker #2: “Well, you need to suck it up. My sister can’t get pregnant, either. Neither can my sister-in-law. You’re not special.”

([Coworker #1] and I just stared at her. I go out of my way to avoid talking to her now that I don’t work there. It’s six months later, and I’m still not pregnant, but we’re still trying!)