Meaner Than A Junkyard Dog

| Working | June 28, 2012

(I have a medical alert service dog. I’ve just walked into a shop that sells, among other things, novelty pillows, I am pounced upon by an employee.)

Employee: “You can’t bring a dog in here!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. This is my service dog.”

Employee: “I can see that, but you really can’t bring it in here! We sell pillows!”

Me: *confused* “Well, federal law—”

Employee: “I KNOW! I know about federal law, but your dog could get allergens on the pillows! You could kill someone, and I shouldn’t have to ask you to do the right thing!”

Me: “Um, I’m sorry, but I have this dog so that I can stay safe. He’s very clean, so I don’t think they’ll be any problem—”

Employee: “No! No! Absolutely not! You can’t bring him anywhere near these pillows! He’s a dog, and you’re a heartless woman who only cares for herself!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m disabled. I really need this dog, I’m protected by law, and I don’t see—”

Employee: “NO, I can’t let you stay in here! If you’re not going to do the right thing on your own then I’m going to have to ask you to leave!”

Me: “Can I see a manager, or—”

Employee: “LEAVE!”

(I left. It just wasn’t worth it!)

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