Who Needs History When You Have Hollywood
(A tourist walks up to my register with a handful of trinkets. I ring her up, she pays, I bag the items, and hand her the coin change. As she steps away, I see a dollar still on the counter.)
Me: “Ma’am, you forgot the rest of your change.”
Tourist: “Oh! I guess I did, unless you were paying me in pesos.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Tourist: “Pesos. The money in Mexico.”
Me: “I know what a peso is, ma’am, but I’m not Mexican.”
Tourist: “Puerto Rican?”
Me: “Not even close.”
Tourist: “Cuban?”
Me: “No.”
Tourist: “What are you, then?”
Me: “I’m Native American.”
Tourist: “So am I.”
(She’s white as notebook paper.)
Me: “No, I mean the people here before white people.”
Tourist: “What do you mean?”
Me: “You don’t know about Natives? Indians?”
Tourist: “Oh, you mean the people John Wayne killed off.”
Me: “Just take your change.”
This story is part of our Native-American roundup.
Question of the Week
Have you ever served a bad customer who got what they deserved?
