(I’m on the phone signing up for unemployment.)

Worker: “What is your race?”

Me: “White, Caucasian.”

Worker: “Are you a US citizen?”

Me: “No.”

Worker: “Wait, what? Yes you are!”

Me: “Um, no. No I’m not a citizen.”

Worker: “But you said ‘white’ before.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m definitely white. I’m Australian with British parents.”

Worker: “You sure?”

Me: “Pretty sure yeah. You should see me dance!”

Worker: *laughing* “Well, I gotta put something for race, because the way they have it, ‘white’ is for US citizen.”

Me: “That’s… weird.”

(This is probably my 5th time signing up for unemployment, and I’ve never heard of this. I have no idea what she put for my race. But I’m kind of dying to know now!)

(After attending a morning tea session, I decide to buy some of the tea we had been served, which is sold by the quarter pound.)

Me: “Good morning, I’d like 4 oz of the English Breakfast mix.”

Employee: “Oooooooh…”

Me: “Is there a problem?”

Employee: “I’m so sorry, sir. We only sell them by the quarter pound.”

Me: “Yes, that’s… that’s what 4 oz is.”

Employee: “Well, I’m sorry; we just can’t do it. We sell by the quarter pound.”

Me: “Yes, 4 oz is a quarter pound. I’d like a quarter pound of English Breakfast.”

Employee: “Why didn’t you say so?!”

(I am buying some beer, and in the process, I strike up a conversation with the cashier. However, when I give him my money, he just stands there staring at me.)

Me: “…What?”

Cashier: *stares at me, showing me my money*

Me: “…Huh?”

(I look at the money in his his hand, and it takes me several seconds to realise I’ve shorted him $10.)

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry! Here’s the $10. I’m so stupid sometimes!”

Cashier: *laughs* “No worries, we all have those days!”

(The cashier completes the transaction, and gives me my beer and change. I pocket my change and head for the door.)

Me: “Thanks, mate! Have a great day!”

Cashier: “Did you want your change?”

Me: “…”

(I’m in Montréal visiting my grandparents. I don’t know enough Quebecois to have a full coherent conversation. Since most employees can speak both Quebecois and English, I usually start the conversations in English to avoid any complications. I walk into a clothing shop and one of the employees approaches me, speaking very quickly in Quebecois.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I’m only fluent in English. Were you telling me about the sales?”

Employee: *to cashier* “UGH, mon dieu! Crisse de cave. Petite cave…”

(This roughly translates into ‘Oh, my god, what a little idiot.’)

Me: “But I do know enough to ask for your manager. Or should I say, ‘Je ne suis pas un peu idiot! Où est votre gestionnaire?'”

(The employee turned beet red and retrieved a manager, who apologized profusely for her language. He offered me one free accessory from the sale rack, and said he will remind his staff to assume that primarily English tourists might know some basic French!)

(I’ve gotten a call back from a company I submitted my resume to. They leave a message asking me to call back and arrange an interview.)

Me: “Hello, I’m calling to schedule an interview for the position you were advertising.”

Receptionist: “Ah, yes you’ll be wanting to speak with [Name]. Just a moment…”

(I wait to be transferred, but instead the line goes dead. I call the company back.)

Me: “Hello, it’s [My Name]. I think we got disconnected.”

Receptionist: “Oh, well let me try that again.”

(I promptly hear the click of her hanging up and then nothing. I call back a third time, but this time the receptionist says…)

Receptionist: “Hey, umm, if I read the model of my desk phone off to you, do you think you could look it up online and find out how to transfer calls?”