I went to get my hair cut today. There was an elderly gentleman who was just ahead of me in the waiting area. I would guess he was russian. One of the hair stylists, I would guess vietnamese or some other south east asian. It's pretty safe to assume that for all parties involved, english was not their first language. 

She read his name of the slip of paper they had.

"How you ponounce you name?" she asked, in a thick accent. (sic, not a typo)

Then a long conversation about how to pronounce his name. Then another conversation about how he wanted his hair cut. All the while the stylist is getting frustrated with his 'accent'.

The stylist then asked: "You no speak english?"

So today I got my daily recommended allowance of irony.