Category: Bigotry

This category is dedicated to the bottom rung of humanity at its worst — racists, homophobes, and other bigots — and, occasionally, employees at their finest.

No Room For Your Kind At The Table

| Lubbock, TX, USA | Bad Behavior, Bigotry

(I work as a server at a restaurant on nights and weekends. On Sunday, during the after-church rush, a short, angry woman with three young kids in tow barges past the host and grabs my arm as I am walking to a table.)

Woman: “YOU! Tell me what this disgrace is.”

Me: *confused, trying to pull my arm away* “Uh, I’m sorry? What seems to be the trouble?”

Woman: *tightens her grip* “I want you to tell me WHY someone is at MY table!”

Me: “Did you have a reservation for today? We’re pretty booked because of the holiday. If there’s been a mix-up we can fix it.”

Woman: “Of course I didn’t! I shouldn’t need to. I come here every Sunday–” *I have never seen this woman in my life* “–and I always sit right there! Why have you allowed those tramps to steal it from me?” *she points at the ladies at “her” table*

Me: “Ma’am, those ladies have been seated there for a while, and they got here first. We don’t reserve individual tables outside of our party room.”

Woman: *finally letting go of my arm to throw her hands in the air* “Well, what kind of customer service is this? Go get your manager!”

Me: “If you insist, ma’am.”

(I ask my host to call the manager over as I am not supposed to stop serving unless there is an emergency, and this is not one. When I turn back around, this woman has gone over to the ladies at ‘her’ table and began to yell at them.)

Woman: “Why are you [homophobic slurs] sitting at MY table?!”

Lady #1: “We’re sisters, and we got here first. Back off, lady; we’re trying to eat!”

(I quickly rush over.)

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t allow you to yell at other patrons. These ladies have done nothing wrong.”

Woman: “I told you to get your manager! Where is he?”

Me: “Ma’am, she’s coming. In the meantime please let these ladies enjoy their dinner in peace.”

Woman: “You let these [slurs] eat in your restaurant, AND steal my table?” *turning to the sisters* “This is Trump’s America and you are not welcome!”

Manager: “Ma’am, enough! I need you to stop yelling at these people and leave. Anyone is welcome here, but you aren’t welcome to harass our patrons as you please.”

Woman: “Corporate will hear about this from me!” *turning to stare coldly at me* “I will have your job.”

Kid #1: “Mommy, if we have to leave then where are we eating now? I’m hungry.”

Woman: “I don’t know, sweetie. This mean [homophobic slur] wants you to starve.”

Me: *as an actual gay man, shocked into silence*

Woman: *smiling wickedly back at me while leaving* “Better find another job soon!”

Lady #2: “Thank you for getting her away from us.”

(My manager offered them free desserts and we never did hear from corporate. My manager actually let me have an extended break and I got a pretty big tip from the sisters for handling her well, too.)

You’ll Find The Trump-Supporter’s Menu Outside

, | MA, USA | Bad Behavior, Bigotry, Food & Drink

(It’s a slow day at the cash register when an elderly man and his grandson walk up to the counter. The grandfather gives their order but then notices the rainbow bracelet on my wrist as I go to take their payment.)

Grandpa: “Are you gay, son?”

(He points derisively at the bracelet.)

Me: “Yes, I am, but I’m not ashamed and—”

Grandpa: “Good God, they let you people touch food?”

Me: “Sir—”

Grandpa: “Don’t you ‘sir’ me, you f****** [homosexual slur]!”

Me: “That was uncalled for.”

Grandpa: “What’s uncalled for is you trying to turn my grandson gay.”

Me: “I assure you, sir, that’s not—”

Grandpa: “Back in my day we had values. Now there’s a [slur] as our president and [slur]s touching our food. This is why America is going down the s***er, because [slur]s like you think it’s cool to be a f****** [slur].”

Me: *biting my tongue* “Would you like to speak with my manager?”

Grandpa: “Yeah, I would! And I’ll ask him what sort of idiot he is for hiring a [slur] like you”

(My manager is a woman. She comes over.)

Manager: “What’s the problem here?”

Grandpa: “Your employee’s a [slur].”

Manager: *matter-of-factly* “Yes, he is.”

Grandpa: “This is a family restaurant. You can’t have [slur]s working here!”

Manager: “I can, and I do. But you’re right, sir, this is a family restaurant. As a result, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

(Grandpa stands there stunned, and the whole time the poor kid looks like he’s about to cry.)

Manager: “Your grandson is still welcome as he’s not the problem, but you aren’t allowed back in here. Have a good day.”

(Baffled and so angry he couldn’t speak, the grandpa dragged the boy out by his arm.)

The Argument Hasn’t Got A Leg To Stand On

| Nottingham, England, UK | Bad Behavior, Bigotry, Health & Body

(When I was nine I was in a car accident resulting in the loss of the lower part of my left leg. I now wear a solid, life-like, suction-attached prosthetic. I have a “disabled parking” badge but very rarely use it; however, I’ve hurt my back and am in pain through my right hip and thigh. I and my husband both have good jobs and no kids so we have a decent disposable income allowing us to splurge on presents (nice cars, watches, bags, etc.). I’m shopping and park in a disabled bay (one of 12, 5 being used), go in, and am there for two minutes before I hear a customer announcement for the owner of a light blue mini with my reg. I go to customer services and see a security guard. We then go out to my car and there’s another security guard, a middle age woman, and a traffic warden at my car.)

Woman: “That’s her! I saw her park then walk in like she hasn’t a care in the world.”

(The traffic warden asks me a couple of questions,. I show him my license and tell him the other paperwork is in the car. We get it and move to the back of my car. He looks everything over. I then raise my trouser leg a bit to show him my prosthetic.)

Traffic Warden: “Okay, everything seems in order. I’m sorry for any trouble.”

(We turn to the security guards who are listening to the woman rant and moan about me.)

Traffic Warden: “Everything’s fine. There’s no problem.”

Woman: “What the f***? Are you looking at her? There’s nothing f****** wrong with her. My husband has had five years of back problems and two surgeries; we need a disabled space.”

Security Guard: “Madam, the warden has said nothing is wrong. Please stop shouting and swearing at our customers.”

(She then stands in front of me so I can’t pass.)

Woman: “Did this whore offer to blow you or something? I’m sick of these types. Just because they’re pretty they think they can get away with anything!”

(The store manager arrives, telling us the police have been called.)

Woman: *to me* “You little b****. I f****** hate you. No-one who has a car—” *she bangs her fist on my car* “—like this is disabled. No-one who dresses like you is disabled. Is that a [Very Famous French Designer] bag? Did you get that from one of your clients? Whore!”

Security Guard: “Please, madam. We’ve asked you to stop talking like this. Not all disabilities are visible. You need to calm yourself and stop swearing.”

(I’ve had enough. I sit on the bonnet of my car, pull my trouser leg up, detach my prosthetic and stand it next to me on the bonnet. Everyone is quiet. The woman just stands there, staring, opening and closing her mouth. I pull my trouser leg back up as far as it will go so the woman can see my heavily scarred stump and re-attach my prosthetic.)

Me: “Well, I’m going shopping.”

(As I went in I saw a police car pull up. The manager came and found me as I was shopping. He offered me a gift card but I declined; it wasn’t their fault. He also told me that the traffic warden was wearing a pocket camera and everything was recorded. He took my details as the police, after being told what happened, were pressing charges of public nuisance, discrimination charges, and resisting arrest. I was contacted by the police and asked if I wanted to include damage to private property from when she hit my car. I did. She deserved it.)

To Them Immigrants Are A One-Way Street

| Los Cabos, Mexico | Bigotry, Tourists/Travel

(My friends and I are traveling to Cabo San Lucas for a bachelorette party at a resort. While on the plane, the flight attendants repeatedly make announcements to all the guests (both verbally walking down the halls and over the PA) that they have to fill out two forms in order to get through the international airport. One is for customs and one for immigration. They also state if we lose the bottom portion of our custom forms we will be fined $50 USD and if we do not fill out everything to completion we will be charged an additional $50 USD fee. They made these announcements for a good thirty minutes before we land. Upon arrival, we are all waiting in line for immigration. There is a middle-aged couple in front of me who I recognize was on the same flight as I was. They go up to the customs agent with a blank form.)

Customs Agent: “Excuse me, señor, señora, please step to the left and fill out your form before moving back to the line.”


Customs Agent: “Señora, we are in Mexico, not America; you will need to fill out the form and return to the line.”


(The lady is causing such a ruckus that it is holding up the line, as every other customs agent and traveler has stopped what they are doing to stare. Someone several feet behind us in line shouts:)

Other Passenger: “For f*** sake, lady, move out of the way so the ones who paid attention can f****** leave!”

(Eventually her husband, who was silent the whole time, maneuvers her off to the left to fill out the form all the while she’s screaming about being an American and not needing to go through customs and how no one told her she was required to fill out the form. I thought that was the one and only idiot who wasn’t paying attention until the bride in our party came up to me several minutes later looking confused and saying “Hey, did you know you have to fill out the whole form?!”)

Smoking Pot Calling The Kettle… Black

| NC, USA | Bigotry, Criminal & Illegal, Hotels & Lodging

(I am coming on my shift and my manager is leaving, but wants to show me his new car so we proceed outside. While we are discussing the car, a Cadillac pulls up in the far corner of the parking lot and just sits there for around thirty minutes as we talk about the car. I jokingly say “there is another drug deal going down.” My manager gets in his car and pulls up next to the Cadillac, then comes back to the door, gets out, and the both of us go inside.)

Me: “So what was he doing?”

Manager: “He was smoking a joint. He claims to be a guest here; I’m going to verify that.”

(We get to the desk and look up the room number. As we are doing this the guy walks in and stands by the desk.)

Guest: “So just because I am black and wearing a wife beater you assume that I was doing something illegal?”

Me: “Uh, what?”

Guest: “You’re racist, man! You assumed I was dealing drugs and doing illegal things cause I’m black!”

(I am a white male in my early twenties, and my manager is an older black guy.)

Me: “If you want to get technical about it, sir, you were doing something. Last time I checked pot is still illegal; correct me if I’m wrong. Instead of accusing me of being racist, you should be thankful that we haven’t gotten the cops involved in this matter.”

(He turned and walked away. He didn’t say a single word to me for the rest of his stay. Turns out you’re racist for catching someone smoking pot; who knew?)

Page 2/8812345...Last