Damn Immigrants

I just overheard Mr. Shakes have the following exchange on the phone when trying to order some sandwiches (mind you, he has a Scottish brogue but it’s so not difficult to understand):

“Do you take credit cards?”

“Okay, the noomber is four zeroo six zeroo…”

“No, foor zeroo six zeroo…”

“No, zeroo.”


“Foor zeroo six zeroo.”



Eventually, a supervisor was brought in to take down the number, and after I yelled, “Just say OH!” he was able to mange to convey the number without bringing in an enigma machine.

“Stoopid foocking bim! Had to get soomeoone else oon the fooking phoone. It was like I needed to give her sums: what’s two minus two? She’s proobably calling the FBI right noo to tell them there’s a terrorist on the loose. The thing that gets me is that I can call in stoock trades every day and say zeroo and be perfectly understood, but I try to oorder sandwiches and I’m a foocking mooron.”

This is reminiscent of the time we were going through a drive-thru and Mr. Shakes requested a “coop holder.” (Translation: cup holder.) “Can I have a coop holder?” “I’m sorry, what?” “A coop holder.” “I don’t know what a coop holder is.” “A coop holder! You know—for holding coops!” When we pulled up to the window, the person working there told him he ought to learn how to speak English. Mr. Shakes is currently ranting about this infamous moment in Shakes history right now.

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