I walked up to the counter and said, “Yeah, I’ll take a Polish sausage.”
The guy behind the counter squints at me and asks, “Are you Polish?”
I’m immediately offended.
“What kind of question is that? If I ordered a bratwurst, would you assume I’m German? If I asked for a Belgian waffle, would that make me Belgian? Dumplings — Chinese? What exactly made you think I was Polish?”
He leans in, lowers his voice, and says,
“Sir… this is a hardware store.”
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