"The dad flipped. The hell. Out. And hollered increasingly louder at me to give him his change back in real money, not this 'fake colourful' stuff, accusing me of stealing from him, and so on. No amount of side eye or polite attempts at interjection could stop his ranting. He finally paused for breath, at which point I calmly explained that while I understood his frustration at having to figure out exchange rates on the fly, it was neither legal nor possible for me to give him his change in any currency other than Canadian, to which he responded that since Canadian money is dollars, could I please just give him his fucking change in dollars and not whatever the hell this funny money is? [Editor's Note: 'MURICA!]
"Still trying to be nice, I explained that while Canadian money is also called dollars, it is in fact its own currency, distinct from the greenback, given that we are actually a sovereign nation. He looked at me, and said that was impossible since we were close enough for him to drive up, to which I replied, as Canadian-ly, passive-aggressively nicely as possible, 'Sir, when you were about an hour and a half from here, did a nice man in a navy-blue uniform, maybe with a gun at his hip, pull you over and ask to see some ID? Yes? That was the border. You're in another country, this is our money, I cannot give you change in any other currency, I'm so sorry.'