I’ve been frequently mistaken for both Hispanic, and Haredi, or Chassidic.
I have been mistaken for someone who has a perm. Like I would have this hair on purpose. But I have been seriously badgered practically to the point of harassment, to reveal the secret to getting my hair to be so curly, and then called some choice names for “refusing” to do so.
I was mistaken for a teen mother a few times, when I took my very young cousin out. I was 38 when my son was born, and I’m waiting to be mistaken for his grandmother.
For two years, I was frequently addressed as “Mary Ann! Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
Often I get pegged as “the manager” or “the boss” wherever I go. If I spend long enough in Barnes & Noble I’ll be asked some question by somebody who thinks I run the store.
Not that I’m on Reddit a lot but there is a subreddit (I think that’s the term) called I Don’t Work Here Lady with stories just like the ones on here about being mistaken for store employees.
Some are outright hilarious with customers yelling at the poor person and demanding to see the manager etc. “Don’t lie to me, you’re just goofing off. You should be fired. I demand to see your boss.” That kind of thing.
Often the unsuspecting shopper is wearing clothing similar to the store employees but a lot of times not the case.
When I was visiting in Cordoba, Spain, two American girls came up and asked me for help finding the mosque (which I had just visited). They were shocked when I answered them in my ordinary, boring American accent. It’s probably worth noting that I have brown hair and brown eyes, but not particularly olive skin.
I was in Lagos Nigeria doing the preliminary design on a bridge for the Nigerian government way back in 1972. Was usually wearing khaki Bermuda shorts, a khaki short sleeved shirt, and khaki knee socks. And had a short mustache to boot.
Found out that most of the staff at the hotel I was staying had me pegged as a British policeman.
The only time in my life I have ever represented (albeit mistakenly) law and order.
BTW: Have been waiting for years to work “albeit” into a conversation.
When he was an active player, I used to get mistaken for baseball player Keith Hernandez. Despite my denials, some figured I was Hernandez pretending not to be Hernandez, and as I walked away, I’d sometimes hear, “Go Mets!”
I used to be fairly adventurous going into random bars to check them out and grab a beer. Until it became more common than not they would assume I was a narc. After several ridiculous challenges to do something illegal to prove I wasn’t, I stopped even bothering with new places for the most part.
When I was about 20, walking on the streets of Berkeley, minding my own business, a cop stopped me on the street and started asking me lots of generic questions – where was I going? Where did I live? How long was I there? etc. etc. He didn’t tell me until after he was done what the whole point was. He thought I fit the description of someone who went AWOL.
(If such a thing were ever to happen to me now, I would politely decline to answer any questions beyond my name and showing my drivers license. Back then, I didn’t know that was an option, nor did I know that it was the widely recommended option.)
It was late at night, and my mother parked the PT Cruiser so I could return home, get something, and come back out. I used the restroom while I was at home.
I came back out and hopped into the passenger seat of a PT Cruiser. I turned to face Mom, and instead I was facing an Indian gentleman who looked at me with terrified eyes.
I quickly said, “Oops, sorry, wrong car!” and exited the vehicle. He, and Mom, and myself all had a good laugh about it, though.
I’m 20 years older than my husband, and am often mistaken for someone who’s not “with” him. He happens to be much hotter than I am, so people overtly come on to him while I’m right there with him. I often think they mistake me for someone who’s invisible.
I’ve taken lots of Continuing Education classes over the years, and like to show up early, especially to the first class. I’m almost always mistaken for the teacher.
And once, way back in the 60s, someone mistook me for Omar Sharif. She demanded my autograph, so I gave it to her.
I bear a significant physical resemblance to Stephen King. (Lord, I wish my bank account resembled his!) I’ve had people ask me, “Are you Stephen King?”
I was once in a restaurant, and someone asked. I said no. Later, I heard the guy telling his friend, “You know, Stephen King. He writes those scary-ass books.”
People usually think I’m younger than I am (mid-20s) and I’ve been mistaken for a high school student several times. I guess it’s because I’m short and have a round face.
A friend of mine was interviewing to teach at a private high school, and the security guard thought she was an eight grader interviewing to attend the school.
I was mistaken for an employee at Musicland, so I just helped them find the tape they were looking for.
Every month or so someone stops me to ask if I’m Indian. I’m actually of Mexican descent.
I worked at Target in the early 1980s, before they went nationwide and before the dress code was so stringent. There was another cashier who kind of looked like me, and we were mistaken for each other by customers more than once. :o
There was a doctor at the hospital where I used to work who looked a lot like me from a distance; never mind that I probably outweighed her by about 50 pounds. We’re both tall enough that a significant difference in weight wasn’t as striking as it otherwise might have been. More than once, the technicians would go on the floor to restock, and upon returning to the pharmacy, ask me what I was doing up there. I replied, “You probably saw Dr. (her name).”
In between, when I worked at the grocery store, a couple times I was asked if I had a twin sister in a nearby small town. :eek: I’m not a twin, so if this lookalike has a twin sister, I’m not it.
I’ve been mistaken for Trey Anastasio from the band Phish. I had zero idea who he was.
In college I worked for the concessions company at the hockey arena that doubled as a concert venue. The Phish concert was general admission with no assigned seating so the crowd arrived early jockeying for the best position to rush for the floor seats.
I going about my duties walking past the front doors when the crowd started to excitedly pound the glass doors. I had NO idea why and kept on about my business.
A few minutes later the same things happened as I went past doors on the other side of the building. It still didn’t register that they were reacting to me.
Only later that night did a coworker mention the resemblance and I put two and two together.
I was sitting in the salon, waiting for my appointment, and a guy walked in and asked if I was busy. I looked at him cluelessly and said “no, I’m just waiting for my hair to be done?” Took me a while to figure out what had just happened.
Hasn’t happened in the last few years, though.
:eek: I’m not a twin, so if this lookalike has a twin sister, I’m not it.