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    Store Of The D***ed, Part 2

    | Monticello, MN, USA | At The Checkout, Bigotry, Crazy Requests, Religion

    (I work at a grocery/retail store that has a somewhat relaxed dress code for the cashiers. It is quite hot both inside and outside the store. Many of my female coworkers are wearing less clothing than usual. A customer comes to my check lane and unloads her groceries.)

    Customer: “Oh, thank God. SOMEBODY around here knows how to dress in a way that pleases the Lord!”

    (Right away, I know this is going to be unpleasant. I’m a transgender man with no religious belief.)

    Customer: “All of these god-d*** heathens dress like streetwalkers! I’m so glad I found someone uncontaminated to handle my food!”

    Me: “I’m sorry. Did you say ‘uncontaminated?’”

    Customer: “Why, yes, dearie. Those worthless w****s you have to work with are contaminated by the devil! It’s too bad you have spend so much time around them, but I understand times are tough.”

    Me: “Actually, I enjoy working here. I have excellent pay, flexible hours, and the opportunity to be part of a great team. I’ve made friends with several of my coworkers, and we regularly spend time together outside of work.”

    Customer: “Oh, dearie, you know you shouldn’t yoke yourself to an unbeliever! But I suppose it’s hard to lead some to Christ if you don’t know them very well.”

    (At this point, I’m finished scanning and bagging her groceries. She pays with her card and turns to me.)

    Customer: “You know, young lady. I just feel so bad for you. You’re stuck in this awful, godless place, and I just—”

    (The customer rummages in her purse and pulls out two $5 bills.)

    Customer: “Take these are use them to do The Lord’s work!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t accept your money in good conscience. I happen to be one of those godless heathens you were upset about. Furthermore, I’m sorry to say that you have made a crucial flaw in your perception of me. I am not, as you said, a ‘young lady.’ I am a 21-year-old transgender man.”

    (The customer begins to shout various racial, homophobic, and trans-phobic slurs. My manager rushes over to find out what’s going on.)

    Customer: “THIS GODLESS C*** CONTAMINATED MY FOOD!”

    Manager: “Ma’am, you need stop verbally abusing the staff and leave the premises. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to call the police.”

    Customer: “HOW DARE YOU!? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?”

    Manager: “No, ma’am, and quite frankly I don’t care. You’re shouting some of the vilest insults in the English language at one of my best cashiers. Get your s*** and leave. NOW!”

    (The customer flees, insulting both of us the whole time. The next customer in line has watched the situation unfold.)

    Next Customer: *to my manager* “Excuse me. Would it be alright if I gave you both a gift card? You deserve something nice after all that.”

    Me: “You don’t need to—”

    Manager: “Uh, okay. Sure.”

    Next Customer: “Here. Just [item] and two $25 gift cards for [coffee shop].”

    (When the friendly customer gives me the gift card, his number is written on the back. We’ve been dating for almost two years!)

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    Store Of The D***ed