Name Blame Game, Part 5

I receive a call that a seasonal item I requested from a small local store has arrived, so I walk the half-mile to the store to pick it up. The store has a poster in the window advertising another item that piques my interest, so I go to the section the item is in instead of heading to the cashier stationed by the door to pick up my requested order.

I greet the cashier as I enter the store, and he greets me with a cheerful:

Cashier: “Hey, [My Name]!”

My name is the same as a term usually used to describe middle-aged women who demand to speak to the manager. The only other customer in the store — a woman browsing a nearby shelf — whirls around, and with the most disgusted tone, demands to know:

Customer: “What did you just call me?”

Cashier: “Oh, um… her…?”

The cashier points at me.

Meanwhile, I can’t find the item from the poster, so I ask the manager stocking the shelves if there are any left. He looks over my shoulder, happily offers to see if it is in the stock room, and runs away before I can say anything.

The woman, now less than three feet away from me, gets my attention.

Customer: “You shouldn’t let those people use a slur like that on you, honey.”

She spoke in a confiding, yet condescending tone. Clearly happy with herself for imparting such vital information about my actual name, she left the shop in a self-righteous huff, while I remained speechless from her stunning ignorance.

If I had had my wits about me at the time, I might have informed her that I’d rather be addressed by my own actual name than live my life as an ignorant, perpetually offended, self-righteous busybody like her.

Related:
Name Blame Game, Part 4
Name Blame Game, Part 3
Name Blame Game, Part 2
Name Blame Game