Back when 9/11 happened, I had traveled to Belfast with hubby for a medical conference. We were supposed to catch our flight back home in the wee hours of 9/12, but all flights, of course, went to hell in a hand basket. Stuck in Belfast with nothing to do and unable to find a hotel, hubby and I found ourselves in a pub about 10 miles outside Belfast (thankfully we were able to snag a rental car) and went in trying to find a place to stay for a few days.
The pub owner set up a few cots in the back room for a couple who were also stranded and luck would have it, he had extra cots and let us stay for a few days. He only asked we help wash dishes/sweep/mop the bar in exchange for beer, food and the cot in the back room. Owner insisted it was what God would want.
Over the next 5 days while waiting to be able to book a flight home I never in my life until that day and since then the most polite, wall mannered custys. It was like... heaven on Earth. The locals said please, thank you, your welcome, tipped well, kept tabs on their hell spawn, actually disciplined their little hellspawn and the locals weren't shy about giving their hellspawn-regardless of age an ass whoppin' (with a belt!) if they even dared think about being rude or didn't do what they were told. I was in total shock.
Locals were horrified at the stories I shared about how custys treated wait staff, cashiers and retail workers in the US.
I so wish custys here in the States would treat salespeople and other retail hell workers with a fraction of the respect retail hell workers received in Belfast.
I tell people it's hard to explain Gaelic Football until you watched an entire game while knocking back some cold ones. It's like soccer, football and rugby all squished into one giant awesomeness.