Unfiltered Story #123422

, | Unfiltered | October 11, 2018

(I work as a cashier at a supermarket alongside my partner–a trans-woman–whom often works beside me. We are friends with all the other employees, including the manager, and a handful of the regulars, inlcuding one in particular who has known my partner for years. I myself am female, and my partner was graced with rather feminine features, bar her voice.)

Partner: *Playfully pinching my cheek* Wanna go out someplace after work?

Me: Sure. Got anywhere in mind?

(The regular who has known my partner for a while walks up, apparently overhearing the brief conversation.) Regular: There’s some stuff going on at [Bar], I’ll buy you two drinks if you want.

Me: Sounds good.

(The next couple minutes are idle chit-chat between the three of us; the regular is currently waiting on his wife to finish shopping. An older woman of–politely speaking–larger size walks up. She has a crucifix hanging from her neck, and three children trailing behind her.)

Woman: Oi, you, bimbo.

Me: *Looking around* Er, me?

Woman: Yeah, you. *Spits on the floor in front of me* What do you think you’re doing?

Me: …Working?

(The woman reaches over the counter and attempts to pinch my cheek in a rather forceful way; by now I realise what she is talking about. My partner steps in.)

Partner: I’m going to have to ask you to stop that, madam.

Woman: *Gasping* Oh, you T-f*ck! *Holds the crucifix necklace up to her*

Me: Excuse me, but is there a problem here?

Woman: Problem? YOU’RE the problem; you and this T here. It’s bad enough you look like lesbos, but you’re fake lesbos. My children don’t want to see this.

(The regular from earlier took a more resigned position as the woman came over, but stepped up now.”

Regular: Madam, could you please calm down? You’re embarrassing yourself, these two ladies and your kids.

Woman: Ladies?! You daft–who even are you? Can’t you see that this one’s a sl*t and this one’s a–a–

Partner: *Surprisingly managing to keep her cool* A woman. Just not to people like you, for whatever reason.

Woman: Listen here, sinner. God gave you your body; He does not want you to make it filthy with your feminine desires. Why don’t you go play football?

Partner: Because I’m allowed my own choices.

Woman: What about the Bible? I bet you can’t even remember any teachings. Why don’t you follow the Holy Book?

Partner: Again, I’m allowed my own choices.

Me: Please, madam, for pure decency if nothing else, just drop this scene.

Woman: I’m not moving until you tell me a Bible quote. I’m not paying for this either. *She lifts up her carrier bags, filled with yoghurts, bread, and a few other groceries*

Me: Trust not in oppression, and become not vain in robbery: if riches increase, set not your heart upon them.

(The woman remains speechless for a moment, with her face becoming a rather stunning array of reds. I give my partner a reassuring look; she is smiling softly.)

Me: That’ll be [Amount], is there anything else I can help you with?

Woman: I’m not going to pay for any food from any store that gives filthy Muslim quotes to a well-meaning Christian mother. Kids, come on.

(Me and my partner look to see when the woman has finally left; when she did, we embraced one another. Luckily, we live in a rather liberal area, and things like this don’t happen often. The regular took us both to the bar and we had a great night, with free drinks, no less!)