Feminine Hygiene Meets Masculine Toxicity

, , , , , | Working | November 8, 2019

(I am driving home from work when my wife calls me, tells me we are out of feminine products, and asks for me to get some for her. I am almost home and there aren’t that many options, but I see that a store I haven’t been to before is right up ahead, and in a convenient location. I enter the store and find the products, as well as a few other things we need, then go to the checkout. The cashier is an older gentleman, and he seems rather nice as he rings up my items. That is, until he gets to the feminine products at the back. Note that I’m relatively young and look younger.)

Cashier: “I can’t sell you these.”

Me: “Why not?”

Cashier: “You’re male. I can’t sell these to you; you might be trying to steal something.”

Me: “Okay, first of all, how would that even work? Second of all, these—”

Cashier: “I don’t know. For all I know, you’re trying to steal something. Besides, why would you even want these?”

Me: “They’re not—”

Cashier: “Unless you’re one of them [transphobic slur]s.” *squints at me suspiciously*

Me: “No, I’m just—”

Cashier: “Then why do you need them?”

Me: “Because—”

Cashier: “No. You don’t need them. Now put them back.”

Me: “THEY’RE NOT FOR ME! They’re for my wife!”

Cashier: *grunts* “Well, why didn’t you say that?”

(He begrudgingly rang me up, then proceeded to take as long as possible to bag my things. I ended up getting home well after the time my wife was expecting me. I never went to that store again.)

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