Okay, I’m going to break the rule and relate a story about a non-native-English speaker, but it’s funny, so bite me. 
Back when I was a high-school senior and college freshman, I worked at Pay-N-Save. It’s a drug-store chain that doesn’t exist any more; it was bought by Payless, which was itself bought by Walgreen’s or somebody. Basically, it was a crummy retail job; that’s all you need to know.
So I’m back in the toy aisle, cleaning up the tiny plastic guns and other accessories that invariably get spread around when unattended brats rip open the action-figure packages. This guy comes up to me; he looks vaguely Filipino, or maybe Cambodian. Hard to say. Anyway, he looks like he wants to ask a question, so I put down what I’m doing and give him my full attention.
He holds his hands up in front of his face, maybe eight inches apart, palms facing each other, and says, “Glob.”
Me: Frown. Cock head quizzically.
Him: “Glob.” Same position.
Me: Still frowning, a small shake of the head. “I’m sorry, what?”
Him: Shakes his hands. It looks like he’s miming holding an object of some sort. “Glob. Glob.”
Me: “A globe? I’m sorry, we don’t have globes.”
Him: Getting frustrated. Shakes his hands again. “Glob! Glob!” And just as I’m about to repeat my “what?” response, he wiggles his fingers. “Glob!”
Me: Light bulb goes on. “Oh, gloves! Aisle 8. Here, follow me.”
I lead him to the gardening gloves, he grins and nods, I go back to cleaning up destroyed toys.
“Glob.” Good lord…