I’m a flight attendant. I stopped by Target after getting in from a redeye flight in full uniform. It was navy. I had on my ID badge, my scarf, tights, and sweater. I’d left LA the previous night at 11 PM and landed in NYC around 8 AM the next morning. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I needed something to eat for dinner because I knew that my fridge was empty and I’d be going to sleep as soon as I made it home.

A customer stopped me while I was speed walking through the store, and the interaction went like this:

Customer: “Hey, I need help in electronics.”

Me: “I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Do not lie to me!”

Me: “I’m not lying, I don’t work here.”

Customer: *Yelling.* “You’re wearing a f****** uniform. Of course you work here.”

I look down at my outfit and then up at him.

Me: “Does this look like a Target uniform? I’m a flight attendant.”

Customer: “You should know better than to come shopping in a uniform. What, are you trying to trick people?”

Me: “I’m wearing blue, they wear red. No one with any sense would be confused.”

Then I walked away irritated and confused.

I’m a physical education teacher, so I’m pretty much always wearing shorts when teaching.

Parent-teacher conferences roll around, and a first-grade student comes up to me with her parents:

Student: “Mr. [My Name], I’ve never seen you wear pants before!”

I’ve never responded quicker to a comment before in my life.

Perimenopause has done a number on my head; the brain fog is intense. I forget common words and phrases constantly.

Barista: “Hi, what can I get started for you today?”

Me: “Hello, yes, thank you. May I please have a large, iced peppermint mocha latte?”

Barista: “Of course, skim okay?”

My brain screeches to a halt.

Me: “No, um, actually, can I have normal milk?”

Barista: “Um…”

Me: “Not normal, what’s the word for it? Not soy or almond. Although, there’s nothing not normal about soy or almond. It’s nice that there are alternatives now for people who are lactose intolerant. My sister is, poor thing. She always has to get soy milk… I’m sorry, you don’t care about any of this… I just can’t think of the word… cow milk, but not skim?”

The barista is chuckling at this point.

Barista: “Do you mean whole milk?”

Me: “OH MY GOD, YES, THANK YOU! Whole milk, please. I’m so sorry.”

Barista: “No worries! You really need your coffee.”

Me: “Agreed.”

I’m able to laugh about it now, but in the moment, I was so mortified. She was very nice and patient, though.

A really old lady comes up to me in the produce section and asks me casually:

Customer: “Where are the [n-word] toes?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I must have misheard you. Can you please repeat that?”

Customer: “The [n-word] toes? Usually, you can free scoop them, but I can’t find them anymore.”

I’ve only been here all of a few weeks, and so I went to ask the supervisor for help.

Supervisor: *Sighing and bridging his nose.* “Yeah, some of the older folks used to call Brazil nuts by that name… well, some still do, I guess…”

My supervisor walks over to the lady to deal with her while he sends me off to do another task. I overhear as I’m walking away:

Supervisor: “Now, Mrs. Smith, I’ve told you before not to use that word and don’t give me any of that, “I’m old and can’t learn,” crap as I’ve seen you scrolling TikTok…”

This story reminded me of my own experience. I work in a coffee chain with my twin sister. We’re identical, so this can throw a few customers for a loop when they come in. We’ve started coming up with ways to spin the question:

Customer: “Is… is that your twin?!”

Me: “Oh, no. [Coffee Chain] got tired of having to hire new people all the time so now they just clone us at the back. That’s how we keep the flavor of your drinks so consistent!”

Customer: “Really? That’s amazing!”

Customer’s Friend: “Stephanie… no.”

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Double Take When Ordering A Double-Double