Is It My ‘Right’ To Be Ignored?

Because of my disability, using a phone has always been very difficult for me. As I have got older, ‘very difficult’ has become ‘impossible’. Although I can still look after myself, some hard jobs, such as house cleaning and gardening, have also become impossible.

I decide to contact the government department that helps disabled people like me, and see if I can get some help with my cleaning and gardening.

I send an email to the department, detailing my disability and situation, particularly drawing attention to my inability to use a phone.
I get a reply telling me to phone them on a certain number.
I reply, again detailing my situation, and again stressing my inability to use a phone.
I get another reply telling me to phone them on the same number.
This goes around and around a number of times before I give up on them.

I send an email to the government minister in charge of the department, reporting the above, and again stressing my inability to use a phone.
I get a reply telling me to phone the department on the same number as above.
After three similar exchanges I give up on them too.

I send an email to the Government Ombudsman, detailing all that has happened so far, again stressing my inability to use a phone.
I get a reply telling me to phone them and discuss my problems.
I repeat my email, again stressing my inability to use a phone.
After this has gone around a few times I give up on them too.

This is now getting out of hand, and I’m starting to feel that I am being discriminated against.

I send an email to the Human Rights Commissioner, detailing the problem and stressing my inability to use a phone, as usual.
I get a reply telling me that they have opened a file on my situation and to phone a certain number and talk to an investigator.
Again I send another email, again stressing my situation as regards using a phone.
I get a reply saying that unless I talk to an investigator they cannot investigate the matter.
I reply yet again, repeating myself.
I few days later, get a reply saying that since I have not contacted them, they have closed the file.

It seems that my situation is not covered by their rules so they don’t know what to do with me.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

I work in a bakery in a grocery store. My department is right next to the meat department, and with the way its set up I can always hear them talking while I work. I’m preping some items when I hear this.

Meat employee 1: hey whats 64 divided by 16?
Meat employee 2: don’t know, I’m an English and history person not a math person.
Me thinking to myself: well if 8 times 8 is 64, you can just multiply one 8 by 2 to get 16 and if you divide the other 8 by 2 it would be 4 so it should be 4.
Me, outloud: its 4!

I didn’t even get a thank you.

My personal friends have a longstanding joke that, when we say “I feel old,” someone else responds with:

Friend 1: You’re not as old as [other friend who is slightly older]!

Friend 2: Who’s not as old as [OTHER friend who is slightly older than the previously mentioned friend]!

And so on, until someone finally says:

Friend 3: Who’s not as old as [older adult], and [older adult] is OLD!

I bring this stupid joke up with my new coworkers, most of whom are much younger than I. One of them, Coworker 3, has just left and he’s much older than me. One of the younger ones, Coworker 1, mentions he feels old.

Me: Oh, but you’re not as old as I am!

Coworker 2: And you’re not as old as [Coworker 3]!

Coworker 1: Oh, and I guess I’m not as old as [Manager]!

Coworker 1 and 2: And [Manager] is OLD!

Said manager just happens to be walking by at the ENTIRELY WRONG TIME.

Manager: WHAT?!

We all burst out laughing. Best part? [Manager] is a few years younger than me.

I work in a big box department store. Mystery liquids on the floor are just part of life. You find them, you get them cleaned up.

I was on my way to a break when I spotted a short trail of drips of some sort of reddish-pink liquid on the floor. For a larger spill, I would have guarded it and called a coworker over to bring me some paper towels, but for just some drips, I decided to take the ten or fifteen steps in the other direction to grab the towels myself.

As I came back, I saw an elderly lady with a walker about to step on a cluster of drips.

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, please be careful. There’s something on the floor there, and I don’t want you to slip.”

Customer: “Oh. Thank you. I didn’t see it.”

She looked down at it. Then, she bent down and started smearing one particularly large splatter with her finger. I was a bit alarmed. I had no idea what this stuff was, and some of the chemicals we sell are toxic, or even caustic!

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t do that!”

Then, she tasted it.

Yes. You read that right. She stuck her finger in her mouth to taste a mystery liquid from the floor of a big box store.

Customer: “I don’t know what it is.”

Me: “Uh… I don’t, either… but I’m here to clean it up…”

Customer: “Oh, all right.”

And she continued along her way.

I work in a restaurant and bar. Some angry customers stop to yell at me as they’re leaving.

Customers: “We have to go to the emergency room because of a shellfish allergy! Why didn’t you tell us the crab artichoke dip had crab in it?!”

That’s the same dip they ordered by saying the full name.

Sometimes, I wonder about people.