(My husband is British, and I am Canadian. I have moved overseas for him, and we have started a family. Because I am a foreigner, and the fact that a couple other woman in the community do not believe that I deserve my husband, I am the target of rude gossip and mean remarks, which I usually ignore. I am picking my son up from daycare, and overhear a couple boys my son’s age talking to him.)

Boy #1: “My mother tells me I’m not to play with you; your mum is an evil witch!”

Boy #2: “My mum told me your mum put a spell on your dad so he’d marry her, and then when he had you he was stuck!”

(They continue with a few more taunts asking if I’m a witch. I am close to tears because my son is being pulled into this stupid grudge. I am about to take my son and leave, when he suddenly pipes up.)

Son: “Oh, I know she’s a witch. You know how?”

(Both boys shake their heads.)

Son: “Because everything she does is magic!”

(I really start crying now and hug my son tightly. He never understood until years later just how much his words meant to me. The gossip didn’t go away for a long time, but I had my son’s support for his ‘witchy mother’.)

(I am talking with a customer that is also my neighbor. I am ringing in about the ants that have been getting into our houses.)

Customer: “Those darn ants are everywhere this time of year!”

Me: “Yeah, we’ve had a lot of trouble keeping them out these days. I don’t know what to try next!”

Next customer: “You know what works? Ant-Be-Gone. I used it once, and my wife’s Aunt hasn’t come around for years!”

(I’m a customer and am standing in line at the checkout behind a very sweet-looking little old lady. She’s a stereotypical, blue-haired, tiny woman dressed in a very nice yellow and pink pantsuit. The cashier is a nice-looking young man in his late teens or early twenties.)

Little Old Lady: *to the cashier* “You know, you’re a very handsome young man, and you can hold down a job. That’s a good thing.”

Cashier: “Thank you, ma’am.”

(The lady then proceeds to chat in a very friendly manner to the cashier. While talking, she’s very slowly and carefully placing one item at a time on the conveyor.)

Little Old Lady: “So, I think my granddaughter would be perfect for you. She’s just turned nineteen, she has a nice job of her own, and she’s pretty. You boys like redheads, right?”

Cashier: *dazed look*

Little Old Lady: “You really should meet her. I just know you two would be perfect for each other! I know these things!”

Cashier: “Um, ma’am—”

Little Old Lady: “So, what do you say? Would you like to meet my Linda?”

Cashier: “Ma’am, I’m gay.”

(At this, the sweet-faced little old lady just blinks and smiles.)

Little Old Lady: “Okay, so you need to meet my grandson instead!”

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(I am the lead in the lingerie department. After watching me for fifteen minutes, a middle-aged man approaches me as I’m folding underwear. Note that this customer has bothered other female workers and is clearly a panty fetishist.)

Customer: “So, I’m buying some panties for my teenage daughter. Are these something that she would like?” *hands me a satin thong*

Me: “It depends on your daughter, but the pattern on them is nice.”

Customer: “But, will she like them? You’re about the same age. Do you wear panties like these? You said that they were nice. Do you own a pair of these panties?”

(I’ve worked in lingerie for a while now and know what this customer is up to.)

Me: “Oh no, sir. Thongs are very bad for vaginal health. They help bacteria move from the anus to the vulva area and can cause urinary tract infections. Plus, cotton underwear really are the best, as satin doesn’t breathe properly and can lead to yeast infections.”

Customer: *stunned silence, turning red*

Me: *leads him to the “granny panty” section* “Really, these would be the best for your daughter. They’re the only underwear that I’ll wear! It’s best for her vaginal health. This four-pack is very economical. Is there anything else I can help you with?

Customer: *drops satin underwear and walks away very fast*

Me: “Have a great day!”

(My manager saw the exchange and gave me a high-five. The customer still bought underwear from us, but he never bothered another female worker again!)

(I am working the concessions stand at a movie theater in a very affluent neighborhood, in early 2009.)

Customer: “How much for a small popcorn?”

Me: “$5.50.”

Customer: “THAT much? Wow. Well, that’s what we get for electing Obama.”

Me: “I was unaware that the President of the United States took time out of his schedule to set popcorn prices.”

(I’ve been back to this theater recently and prices have actually gone up. THANKS, OBAMA!)

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