I’m a woman who works in an auto shop. I am sure you can tell where this is going. A customer drives his car into the shop.

Customer: “Can I speak to someone about my car?”

Me: “Let me know what you need and I’ll be happy to help.

Customer: *Blinks.* “I need to speak to someone about my car.”

Me: “Ooookay. What is it about your car?”

Customer: “I need to speak to a mechanic about my car.”

Me: “Congratulations! You found one. What issues are you having?”

Customer: *Looking around above me.* “Is there a manager or the owner around?”

Me: “The owner is around but he’s in his office. He’s not working the floor today.”

Customer: “Well, can you get him for me? I really need to speak to a mechanic. It’s about a problem with my brakes, y’see, so it needs a professional.”

Me: “I am a mechanic, sir.”

Customer: “Come on, dear. Are you going to make me say it?”

Me: “I really think I am, dear.”

Customer: “I need to speak to a man about my car.”

I silently go to the office and interrupt the owner. He understands the situation quickly and comes out to speak to the customer.

Owner: “Sir, I am understanding that you don’t want my mechanic here to look at your car?”

Customer: “Come on, guy! You know how it is. I need someone professional to look at the car.”

Owner: “So my professional mechanic here, who has told you numerous times that she is a mechanic and is available and willing to help you, is not worthy to do so because she what… has a uterus?”

Customer: “Well, I—”

Owner: “Also, and not that this is any of your business, she is my daughter and has been crawling around the insides of a car for as long as she could… well… crawl! So after all this information has been relayed to you I have only one thing left to ask.”

Customer: *Looking defeated.* What’s that?”

Owner: “Sir, are you a professional misogynist or is this just something you do for fun?”

While the customer is guffawing and making spluttering noises, I remind the owner (hi dad!) about the nature of the complaint.

Owner: “Sir, I have just been informed by my professional mechanic that your problem alludes to your brakes. If you have an issue with your brakes, I cannot legally let you leave this lot in case your car is a danger to yourself or others. I also won’t be looking at your car because you’re a human waste stain. If you leave, I will call the police with your registration. However, I am willing to tow your car to your home address for the standard $200 fee.”

After a bit more sputtering, the customer had his car towed to another mechanic (a friend of my father) who made sure that his car was roadworthy despite the driver not being worthy of anything.

Thanks, dad!

I am having a rough day with the “womanly issues” and so I am spending a bit more time in the restroom than usual. This, of course, does not go unnoticed by my micro-managing boss.

Boss: “What were you doing in there!”

Me: “You’re not allowed to ask me that.”

Boss: “I am allowed to ask anything I want pertaining to your productivity. You’re getting paid to sit at your desk and work, not sit on the toilet for hours playing games on your phone.”

Me: “That is absolutely not what is going on.”

Boss: “I don’t care. I don’t want to see you leave your desk outside of your allotted break time for the rest of the day, or it’s a write-up.”

He leaves before I can protest, so I sit down at my seat. I am a stubborn, vindictive, and petty person, and so I am willing to suffer a little to make a point. I grimace through the rest of the day and manage to leave without too many issues.

The very next day we have an “all-hands” meeting to close out the week, which is attended virtually by most of upper management. We get to the AOB part of the meeting and I raise my hand.

Company Big-Wig: “Yes, [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes, I was wondering if [Boss]’s policy to force the female staff to remain in their seats during heavy-flow periods could be put into writing somewhere? I don’t want to be blamed for making a mess of the office chairs, you see.”

For a glorious moment, everyone was silent. My boss’s face was, poetically, very red.

Company Big-Wig: “I… think this is something that [Boss] and upper management can discuss outside of this meeting. [Boss], please remain behind after the meeting is adjourned.

I left to enjoy my weekend (health issues aside) and on Monday my boss was absent for what would be two weeks of “retraining.”

From that day onward, every time I needed a restroom break, I would make sure to pass by his desk, even though it wasn’t on the way.

I am checking out customers at the grocery store. I have finished scanning the items for a middle-aged woman.

Me: “Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

Customer: *Immediately and super loud.* “No! You didn’t have my radishes!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. We have been having delays with our produce supplies this week but my manager has informed me that they should be back to normal by Friday.”

Customer: “Well that’s not good enough! I wanted my radish today! To… day! How are you going to compensate me?”

Me: “As I said, ma’am, there’s nothing we can do—”

Customer: “I would hate to have to sue you! What will you do for me.”

Me: “Ma’am, as soon as you mention taking legal action, I am no longer allowed to discuss this matter directly with you. I will call for my manager and you can continue this discussion with them.”

Customer: “You’re really going to make me sue! This is unacceptable!”

I call my manager over using the code that means the customer has threatened legal action.

Me: “Ma’am, can you please step aside so that I can serve the next customer.”

Customer: “No! If I have to wait, then so do they!”

Next Customer: “Come on, lady! Why are you being an a**hole?”

Customer: “How dare you!”

With a feat of strength I was not expecting, the customer grabbed the next customer’s trolley and pushed it back on them. The next customer, not expecting this, falls out of the way and the trolley slides back into a display, knocking it aside and breaking some product.

The manager has just arrived and seen all this take place. He immediately signals for security and another coworker calls the police. My manager is checking on the customer that fell to the ground (she’s fine) while the offending customer realizes she might have f***ed up.

Manager: “You! You stay right there! The police have been called!”

Customer: “What?!”

Manager: “You almost injured another customer and damaged store property.”

Customer: “But I just wanted my radish! I’ll be back on Friday to pick it up.”

Manager: “You will stay right there, or you’ll be in more trouble.”

Customer: “This is a total overreaction!”

Manager: “Ma’am, you destroyed a display, almost injured someone, and threatened to sue us over a radish.”

Back in the days of video rental stores, I am working a Saturday night and a new big-budget action movie is now available. It’s rated PG-13 for some “moderate action violence” but nothing too crazy.

A mother comes up to the counter with her children. They look excited to see the movie.

Mother: “I’m worried this movie might be a bit violent for my children.”

Me: “I’m no expert and I don’t know your kids, but unless they’re a bit sensitive it should be suitable for most children aged eight and up I’d say.”

Mother: “But they really want to see this movie. Hmm. Do you have it as a PG or G version?”

Me: “Uh… no, ma’am. That movie was released as a PG-13.”

Mother: “Do you have any at the back?”

Me: “…it doesn’t work that way, ma’am. The movie is made by a studio and released as is. We don’t get different versions of it.”

Mother: “Well… could you ask them?”

Me: “You want me, a clerk in a video rental store, to call a major Hollywood studio, to ask them to release a PG edit of their blockbuster movie and send it to this little store in Wyoming, for you to watch with your children tonight?”

Mother: “Is that complicated? I can pick it up from [Store on other side of town] if that’s easier?”

I tried to explain how moviemaking works quickly. She rented the movie. I didn’t hear any complaints.

Related:
Rated R You Serious?!, Part 9
Rated R You Serious?!, Part 8
Rated R You Serious?!, Part 7
Rated R You Serious?!, Part 6
Rated R You Serious?, Part 5

(I have a coworker who is very confident despite the fact she can’t speak English or Spanish. Somehow, she gets promoted to manager much to everyone’s dismay since she’s really childish too. At a team meeting she’s speaking Spanish to the housekeepers. They all look confused. I can’t stifle my giggle.)

Coworker: “[My name] do you want talk Spanish to these?”

Me: “No thanks I’m not the manager.”

(She makes a mean face at me and continues butchering the Spanish language. I can understand Spanish but I can’t speak it. I left a few weeks later and saw an ad for my position in poor English. )