I will never buy a newspaper from your castle ever again!

The Guardian started a project designed to express the viewpoints of Brits to the people in swing states. The reactions were wide and varied, but my favorite was this one:

I used to visit the UK every year. I love the history and culture of your country. But after I heard about your campaign to influence our elections, I’ve decided that neither myself, nor my family will ever visit again. I’m offended by your campaign and because of it, I’m remembering more of the negative aspects I’ve seen in the UK than the positive ones. Though I still love the castles!

Back when I worked in a museum I would work the Guest Services desk (it was the visitor assistance desk when I started, but at some point we stopped assisting visitors and started servicing the guests.) a lot because I had the unique ability to enjoy the truly stupid questions tourists will ask. (quick bit of Disney Park Trivia: “What time is the x o’clock parade?” is the most frequent question asked at city hall.) The more stupid the questions were the more hilarious I found it. Those of you more familiar with my stoic appearance will be surprised to know I often was commended on how I always helped the guests with a smile. In truth, it was actually a repressed laugh.

The only things I couldn’t take were the people who would make up outlandish reasons why I would rue the day I ever failed to proactively prevent their problem today. “During the rain this afternoon, by shirt got wet. Why don’t you have a roof there?” Ignoring the fact that it’s a butterfly garden and a roof would kill all of the wildlife it is designed to display, and not pointing out what class of human does not have the good sense to come out of the rain I asked the one and only response officially sanctioned by the Museum: “Oh my! Where is the damaged shirt?”

Of course it was the shirt they were wearing – Bone dry on the top, but undeniably soaked under the arms. A misshapen Mickey Mouse has been ironed on to a surplus irregular shirt. I know the kind well. They are sold for 4 dollars each all along I-4.

“Well it has no visible damage, but [sputter] I come to this museum on vacation every year, but this is the last time!” Naturally, this would be the person who had asked me for directions 3 times already today. Merely a reduced hippocampus, I’m sure. Meanwhile the kid on a leash (YES a leash. if you’re not from Florida ask and I’ll explain it to you) heard that she was never coming back to the land of edutainment and starts crying and throwing a tantrum on the floor.

Even as I watch the child fall to the floor, seemingly in slow motion, I try to brace myself for the most disturbing thing they will ever (but always do) say. “Look! Now you made her cry!”

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