Scene: a coffee shop near the McGill campus.  After standing indecisively in front of the menu board for a few minutes, I step forward to order.

All of the following dialogue takes place in French.

ME: Hi, a cup of Earl Grey, please.

(EMPLOYEE 1 goes to get ME’s drink.)

EMPLOYEE 2: Can I help you?

ME: No, that’s okay, I’ve already ordered.

EMPLOYEE 2: What did you get?

ME: A cup of Earl Grey.

EMPLOYEE 2: That’ll be $2.31.

(ME rifles through wallet for money.)

EMPLOYEE 2: Are you from Montreal?

ME: No.  Why?

(ME wonders why he asks.  Not far from an English-language university, she is far from the only person to order in English-accented French.)

(EMPLOYEE 2 turns triumphantly to EMPLOYEE 1, who’s handing me my drink.)

EMPLOYEE 2, to EMPLOYEE 1: Ha!

EMPLOYEE 2, to ME: Because the anglophones in Montréal don’t speak French!  (Parce que les anglophones de Montréal ne parlent pas le français!)

(Insert business wherein ME stage-whispers that it’s because she’s an American, and EMPLOYEE 2 responds in feigned horror.)

SCENE.

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