Yesterday, on our merry way home from Copenhagen, Karlsson and I stopped for booze at Tårnby Brugsen. It had been an exciting day in the hearing industry and we needed something to dull the excitment.
I picked up a crate of beer and some wine and took i to the checkout to pay for it. My Visa/Dankort card didn't work. It kept teling me to use the magnetic stripe instead of the chip. After half a dozen tries the checkout-chick rang for the manager who came over. He noticed that I had an accent so asked,
-Er det en almindelig Dansk Dankort? Is this a Danish Dankort?
I thought of replying
-No, this is a Venezuelan Dankort. . .
Provincial views abound even in Copenhagen.
1 comment:
even there, you say? All right then.
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