Had some lady call my office at Bragg one day, asking for a Joseph or some such. Joseph who, ma'am? Blah blah blah, isn't this Ft Bragg? He's stationed there. Lady, there are 65,000 swing dicks on this post & I'ma need a little more than a name to help steer you in the right direction. Wow.
I know I've probably told this story before, but back in '06 I got sent to RAF Chicksands to teach a short class at the Brit PSYOP school. The Regimental Sergeant Major is a wee, bonney little Scotsman. Pretty sure he had me pegged for deaf, stupid, or both, as I could only understand about half of what came out of his mouth. Next morning he has myself & a Canadian Sergeant join him for breakfast in the Sergeants Major's mess. His 2 Sergeant Major buddies sat with us, one Welsh & one from Northern Ireland. I swear, it was like the scene in that Austin Powers movie where he's blabbering 'British' gibberish at his father & concludes with "shat on a turtle!" I'm lookin' at these fools like WTF & the Canuck looks at me, chuckles & says "I dunno dude. I thought we all spoke the same language."