Bank Teller...

I was in the bank yesterday afternoon picking up some foreign currency for our upcoming trip. The bank teller was a middle-aged woman and we chatted for a bit while she counted out the brightly coloured notes I'd ordered. She was South African and when she discovered that I'd be going to Australia for part of my trip (maybe buying Australian dollars might have tipped her off there, but we'll pass over that) her ears pricked up.


Teller: My son's thinking of moving to Australia. 
Me: Oh. Is he? To live?
Teller: Yes, and to work. He's an architect. Just graduated. Where do you think he should go? Perth or Melbourne?
Me: I don't really know to be honest. Melbourne nice. I've not been to Perth. Yet. That's where we're going.
Teller: Oh. I see. You think Melbourne then. Not Perth. (I can see her thinking) Where are you from then? 
Me: Here. London.
Teller: No, I mean originally. (she peers at me from behind the glass) Oh. You're not Australian then? 
Me: No. I'm not.
Teller: Oh, it's just your accent. You sound Australian. One of those fake Melbourne accents. 
Me: Really? (taken aback.) 
Teller: Yes. Sign here please.
Me: Thanks. I hope your son makes the right choice.
Teller: Thank you.
Me: Bye.
Teller: Goodbye. 
Me: Grayshsh. (under my breath.)