I am a security guard at a sports stadium during a busy event. An angry-looking customer has left his seat and found me in the concourse.

Customer: “There are two perverts making a display of themselves for all to see!”

Shocked, I follow him and start looking around. I see no evidence of a “perverted display”. I ask him for details.

Customer: *Pointing* “Those two men! Right there!”

Me: “They’re just sitting down during halftime, sir. What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

Customer: “Well, they’re not doing it now, but earlier one got down on his knee and proposed to the other! At a football match! That’s obscene!”

Me: “So, you’re saying the perverted display was a couple getting engaged in public?”

Customer: “These two men should not be promoting their choices in front of a crowd, especially my children!”

Me: “Ah… So, it’s homophobia, then.”

Customer: “It is not homophobia, but they’re ramming it down our throats! All the time! I’m sick of seeing it!”

Me: “But you wouldn’t have had an issue if the couple proposing in front of everyone was straight?”

Customer: “Well… I…”

Me: “Sir, what I do next based on your complaint means you need to answer me honestly right now. Would you have an issue with any couple getting engaged at the stadium, or is it just that particular couple?”

Customer: “Look, I can see what you’re trying to do. I can see that you’re not sympathetic to my values so I would like to talk to the guy in charge.”

Me: “In charge of security?”

Customer: “Yes!”

I comply with his request and call over the head of security who is, by her own admission, the “butchest lesbian on the East Coast”. She is terrifying when she wants to be, and after I tell her why I have called her over, she comes by on a rampage. As soon as she approaches, I introduce her to the customer.

Customer: *To me* “This is the head of security?!”

Me: “As requested!”

Security Manager: “So, you’re the one whose masculinity was attacked by two men finding happiness?”

Customer: “That is no way to professionally deal with a complaint!”

Security Manager: “If you had a complaint, then I would take it seriously. You have a prejudice, and those I will mock like the useless wastes of oxygen that they are. Now, will you shut up and enjoy the second half of the game, or will I be doing some escorting today?”

The customer glares at us both but says he will try to focus on the game despite the obscene displays.

Security Manager: “Excellent! I’m going to enjoy watching the game myself from riiiiiight here, just to make sure that all our valued guests can also enjoy the rest of the game without anyone causing a scene.”

She does as she said she would, and the bigot leaves his seat a few minutes before the end of the game. He mutters something about sexuality being a choice and how we shouldn’t defend that choice.

Manager: *Shouting out to him as he leaves* “Oh, my God! It’s a choice! Why didn’t you tell me? That would have saved me years of homelessness after being kicked out! Wow… I learned something new today!”

I love working with her.

I’m a fan of dirt oval car racing. One night, a car crashes into the catch fence separating the track from the grandstand area. The fence is damaged, but the track crew inspects it, makes a few minor repairs, and determines that the fence is still safe enough to continue racing.

During the next intermission between races, a few kids — ranging in age from about eight to thirteen — walk up to the fence and start tugging on it around the damaged area. Their parents and guardians are sitting in the front row of the grandstands, completely absorbed in their cell phones and beer. Several other fans start shouting at the kids to stop messing with the fence, but the kids pay no attention.

After only a few minutes, the kids have managed to pull enough wires loose to create a hole in the fence. A track crew member finally sees them and runs over, shouting at the kids to get away from the fence.

The kids leave the fence, but the parents have finally taken notice of what’s happening, and they start screaming at the track crew member to leave their kids alone. The track crew member gathers with a few other members of the track crew, and things pause for about an hour.

As everyone in the grandstand starts getting antsy about the delay, a few uniformed police officers appear in the grandstands and approach the guilty family (the children having returned to their parents after being yelled at by the track crew member). The parents start to argue with the officers, but everyone is interrupted by the track announcer’s voice over the loudspeaker system.

Announcer: “Attention all race fans! Due to the actions of a few children — and the negligence of their parents — the fence has now been deemed unsafe, and the remainder of tonight’s racing action has been canceled. All spectators not involved in the destruction of the fence, please stop by the ticket booth for your choice of a refund of your ticket price or a voucher for next week’s races.”

Naturally, everyone in the grandstands was SUPER angry, and the parents of the guilty children were saved from very likely physical violence by the presence of the police officers surrounding them.

I don’t know if the parents were charged with anything or sued by the track, but seriously, folks. Watch your kids.

My youngest child was playing on a tee-ball team. The kids, five- and six-year-olds, were playing on a makeshift field where the spectators had to stand along the first and third base lines. Every kid got to play at least two innings, and most teams had twelve players.

During one particular game, I noticed a little girl acting like she didn’t want to take the outfield when it was her turn to play. She was nearly hiding behind her mother’s leg, and the coach was about to just let it go and leave her out of the game.

I didn’t want to take over the moment, but I knew how she felt because, at that age, I had the same problem: horrible shyness.

I went to the little girl.

Me: “I know how you feel. Would you be willing to take your position in the outfield if I stood beside you the entire time you’re out there?”

She agreed to do it. I knew that once she broke the barrier of her shyness, she would enjoy the game. So, I stood with her for three innings in the outfield, once telling her where to throw the ball.

She wound up having a blast at the rest of the games that summer.

After that, every time she saw me in town for the next few years, she would yell out:

Little Girl: “Hi, Mister Coach!”

I came away with more than she did, I think.

Twenty-five years ago, I went to a university that was renowned for its education program and wealthy alumni, but not for its football. This led to a situation where the beautiful new football stadium was rarely even half-full for home games, and where the “student section” — for whichever students cared to show up — was deep in a corner with a bad view of the field. The spaces with good views were all reserved for the wealthy alumni, who didn’t seem to mind paying exorbitant fees to watch bad football.

A friend of mine was also a student, but he was a big fan of live football. He really wanted to watch the games, and he didn’t want to pay the high (but basically affordable) student ticket price to sit off in a corner, nor did he want to pay a high price to sit with the alumni. I was in the marching band, so I got to watch every game for free (albeit in worse seats than even the student section), and I started noticing that my friend was RIGHT ON THE FIELD, on the sideline, watching every game, practically bumping elbows with the players.

I asked him what his secret was. His answer?

Friend: “If you carry two cameras, people will let you go anywhere.”

He would walk into the stadium holding a camera with a long zoom lens, with another camera on a strap around his neck, and everyone just assumed he was supposed to be wherever he wanted to be because he had two cameras. He would walk out onto the sidelines of the field, stand there, and enjoy the game from up close. (He did take a few photos — he was also a hobbyist photographer, which is why he even owned two cameras — but they weren’t for any publication.)

I work for a streaming service that broadcasts live pay-per-view sporting events. A popular boxing match in Las Vegas has just been broadcast, and I get the following call.

Customer: “I paid over fifty bucks for the fight and my guy didn’t even win!”

Me: “Sir, you’ve called the [Streaming Service] customer assistance helpline.”

Customer: “Yes! And I need customer assistance! You need to refund me!”

Me: “What is the reason for your refund request?”

Customer: “My guy didn’t win!”

Me: “Sir, did you have any issues with the signal, sound, or picture quality?”

Customer: “Why does that matter?! My guy didn’t win!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, sir, but just to confirm, you had no issues with the signal, sound or picture quality? Your only complaint was that your preferred athlete didn’t win?”

Customer: “Yeah! I didn’t pay that much just to see him lose!”

Me: “Then I am afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you, sir. Our agreement with you was to broadcast the fight; we have no control over the outcome.”

Customer: “Well, can’t you call the hotel in Vegas and ask them to have another go at it?”

Me: “…We did not provide that service, sir.”

Customer: “Ugh! You’re as useless as my guy was!” *Click*