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(I am a male in my late teens working as the receptionist at a guesthouse in a very quiet, small coastal town. I have a muscle disease and use a manual wheelchair, but I’m behind a desk all day and guests don’t usually notice. An older woman comes up to check out and seeing that the printer is out of paper, I move away from the desk to get more from the closet.)
Me: “So, ma’am, how was your stay with—”
Guest: *pity tone that I’ve heard many times before* “Oh no! Oh, honey, what happened to you?”
Me: *smiling and trying to joke* “Nothing. I just ran out of paper. But don’t worry. We have more.”
Guest: *very serious* “No, I meant… How did…” *whispering* “Was it a car accident? One of those awful drunk drivers?”
Me: “Uh, no, actually, it wasn’t. If I could just please ask you to sign—”
Guest: “Oh, it just breaks my heart. You’re a very brave young man.”
(As this is happening, another guest wanders into the room to look at the bookshelves we keep stocked for the guests and overhears everything.)
Me: *still smiling and trying to keep it light* “Ma’am, I’m really not, I promise. I just print receipts and answer the phone. Nothing too brave there.”
Guest: “But surely you shouldn’t be working in your condition! Your parents must be so worried!”
Me: “They’re really not, honestly. They raised me to be pretty independent, so when I told them I wanted to find a summer job, they just said ‘cool, give it a shot.'”
Guest: *apparently TOTALLY mishearing me, looks horrified* “You were SHOT?!”
Me: “I, wha…?”
(At this point my coworker, who’s my age and the owner’s daughter, comes down the stairs and hears the last part. She’s petite and usually very quiet and shy around guests.)
Coworker: “Yeah, and that’ll teach him to show up late again. Next time I’m takin’ a hand.”
(She points threateningly at me, making a ‘gun’ with her fingers. I’m stunned, as she only ever jokes with me in private, but immediately play along and cringe as if scared of her.)
Me: “I’m sorry, I won’t! Have mercy!”
(The guest looks absolutely shocked, and behind her the other guest is nearly doubled over with silent laughter.)
Guest: “That’s– I don’t– not something to joke about!”
(She quickly grabs her receipt and suitcase and nearly runs out the door.)
Me: *to coworker, laughing* “You know, I can’t tell if she actually thought you shot me or was just upset that you made a joke about my tragic ‘condition.'”
Coworker: *deadpan* “She totally thought that. I’m really scary.”
Me: “Oh, I know.”
Other Guest: “I’m gonna leave you guys a great review online. I wasn’t expecting a complimentary comedy show when I made my reservation.”
Coworker: *still deadpan* “It’s not complimentary.”
This story is included in our Wheelchairs Versus Ableism roundup!
(A customer comes into the store. He has a jacket bunched up under his arm. I notice him looking up at the ceiling and approach him to see if he needs help. He doesn’t so I head to the counter. He is still looking at the ceiling and then back at me. I call a coworker over.)
Me: “That guy is freaking me out. He’s up to something.”
Coworker: *heads over* “Hi,. Can I help you?”
Customer: “No, just looking.”
Coworker: “Can I check what you have wrapped in your jacket?
(The customer unwraps the jacket to show that he has a black hair brush with a round hollow handle. Then he leaves the store. I head out for lunch and am sitting in a fast food place when I see the man come out of the toilet area. He again is looking at the ceiling and then around the restaurant. He sees me looking at him and quickly leaves. He still has that jacket under his arm, he heads to another fast food place. Again he notices me noticing him. I head back to work.)
Me: *to coworker* “I saw that guy again. He was acting suspiciously in [Fast Food Place] but as soon as he saw me he left. He was checking out the locations of the cameras, which is what he was doing here, too. I think that he was going to pretend he had a gun. The end of that brush could be mistaken for one.”
Coworker: “Yeah. We discussed it while you were gone and came to the same conclusion. I went down to the store that I saw him come out of and they had also noticed him checking out their cameras.”
(There were no reported robberies in the area. We were ready with our surveillance recordings if there were.)
(I work in customer service at a very large store. One day a customer comes up to me looking very upset and holding his cell phone in his hand.)
Customer: “I need to see a manager.”
Me: “Certainly! I’ll call them over now. May I ask what you need to see a manager for?”
Customer: “I need to file a complaint about an employee.”
Me: “Okay, I’ll call the manager over now.”
(The manager takes the customer to the side to talk, but I can still hear them.)
Manager: “What can I do for you?”
Customer: “I was browsing your store when I saw an employee stocking shelves. His butt was hanging out of his pants. Look!”
(The customer holds up his phone, and he has actually taken a picture of my coworker’s butt crack hanging out of his pants!)
Manager: *stifling laughter* “I’ll talk to that employee and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
(He never talked to said employee.)
(I am the cashier at a convenience store that also has a pharmacy on the back. It is a slow day and my pharmacy coworker asks me to watch his station for a minute. A mustached, gallon-hat wearing cowboy (boots and all) comes up to me and asks in a very deep voice:)
Cowboy: “Do you carry generic Viagra?”
Me: *stunned* “I’m sorry. If you could just wait for a minute?”
(Thankfully my coworker heard him and took over. I went back to my station and then the same customer appeared. His purchases? Generic Viagra, a tequila bottle, and a 25-pack of lollipops…)
