This story reminded me of a similar experience.

This occurred in the 1980s. I was a young woman and loved having fun with my hair. At the time, it was black and red on top, all gelled up in a new-wave flourish, with at least two rat tails. It was glorious. I still get a kick when I look at old photos.

A stranger grabbed my arm in the street.

Stranger: “Don’t wear your hair like that!”

I turned around in astonishment, and my astonishment only grew when the woman shouting at me turned out to be in her fifties with hair that was an ugly bright orange colour that can only happen when you apply the wrong sort of henna to grey or white hair.

She looked far more ridiculous than I did. I was doing it for fun and art, and she presumably was doing it to convince people she still had the flaming red hair of her youth.

I don’t think I said anything; I just turned and walked away, shaking my head.

Related:
She Seems A Hair Insensitive

Many years ago, when I was around sixteen years old, I had carefully budgeted my pay from my casual part-time job to buy some presents for my friends. (I can’t remember whether it was Christmas or birthdays.) I was at my local shopping centre (which is in a lower socioeconomic area), and when I was about to leave, I was pulled to the side by a pop-up kiosk guy selling some kind of fancy-looking nail care.

Kiosk Guy: “Can I get some of your time to look at our range of nail care? This red sea salt buffer will do you wonders.”

Me: “Look, mate, I’m a student, I work only a few hours a week, and I budget my money. Plus, it’s all spent and I’ve got no money left.”

Kiosk Guy: “That’s no problem. Let me have a look at your nails, I’ll show you how nice it is, and you can look at it for the future.”

He started showing me the product, and again, I made it clear that I had no money and wasn’t going to be making a purchase, but I didn’t have the confidence to just walk away at that age. He showed me a “sample” of how it worked by buffing one of my nails and putting a serum on it.

Me: “It sure is nice, but it looks pricey.”

Kiosk Guy: “Well, if you buy it today, I could give you a great discount!”

Me: “Ah, that’s nice, but I know you couldn’t bring it down to a price I can afford.”

Kiosk Guy: “Of course, I could! The price to buy this kit at a spa or online is $160, but today I could do it for $100!”

Me: “Ha! Yeah, nah, I still couldn’t afford that.”

Kiosk Guy: “You know what? You seem like such a nice girl who could really use this product. How about just $80 for the kit?!”

Me: “Remember when you pulled me over here and I said I was on a budget and had no money? And during this conversation, I told you that I am still in school and won’t be able to afford this?”

Kiosk Guy: “I’m sure I can find you a deal on one of our products. How much could you spare for a purchase today?”

Me: “Five dollars is what is left in my account right now.”

Kiosk Guy: *Confused* “Just five dollars?”

Me: “I told you I wouldn’t be able to buy anything today. I wasn’t having you on.”

The Kiosk Guy just looked at me so stunned and confused, and I just stood awkwardly for a few moments and walked away.

I work at a high-end restaurant. Due to how crazy the world has been over the last few years, getting staff in and staying has been a struggle. Tonight, we have three new staff on the floor, I’m stuck manning the bar (as we can’t find a trained bartender at present), and my boss is running the door and floating. No biggie, things flow great.

We have a table of twelve dining. They’re high-maintenance but well-behaved enough, but they’re being served by one of our more trained “new” staff, being a month “older” than her colleagues.

As the night rolls along, a woman from the large table pulls that particular server aside and asks to speak to the owner. My boss, unfortunately, just had to duck out early due to an emergency. Of course, this leaves me running the floor while still stuck rush-closing the bar to cover his absence.

Server: “Oh, I’m so sorry, he just left! But our manager [My Name, which is very feminine] is in the bar. I can get her if you like?”

Before the server can run and fetch me, who has no knowledge of the interaction, the woman stands from the table and walks INTO the bar. Of course, I am confused about why this woman is in my bar but want to stay professional and friendly.

Me: “Hi, is everything all right? Can I help you with something?”

She completely ignores me and brushes past me to the young male staff member I’ve just pulled off the floor to help polish a few glasses.

Customer: “Hi. You’re the manager, I presume?”

My coworker gawks in confusion and looks at me for help.

Me: “No, ma’am. I’m the manager. Is there something I can help you with?”

She turns around and stares for a moment like she’s just seen me.

Customer: “Oh! Uh, I just wanted to say… Umm, I just wanted to tell you [Server] was… very good.”

Me: “Wonderful, thank you. Yes, [Server] is amazing and absolutely one of our best. I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to the owner. I really do appreciate the feedback.”

Customer: “Right… Yes… Thank you.”

Do I really have to be a six-foot male to manage a restaurant?

I’m a woman in my thirties with invisible disabilities that make it hard to climb stairs at the best of times. As it’s peak hour and pouring rain, I decide to take the lift. I’m waiting with an elderly couple when a woman in her fifties walks up to us. I’m listening to music through headphones and don’t immediately realise she’s talking to me, but then I notice her trying to get my attention. I remove my headphones.

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “The lift is for disabled people.”

Me: “Firstly, no, it’s for everyone to use. Secondly, not that it’s any of your business, but I am disabled. Ever hear of invisible disabilities?”

Woman: “Well… I’m disabled, too!”

Me: “Good for you! I honestly didn’t know being an old b**** was a disability. I guess you learn something new every day.”

I watch her do her best impression of a tomato and gape like a fish for a minute before storming away.

I turn to the couple who has witnessed the whole exchange. They are both laughing.

Me: “I’m so sorry for my language, but she just got to me.”

Man: “No worries, love; if you hadn’t said something, I would have.”

The woman didn’t even look disabled herself.

Related:
Invisible Disability, Visible Laziness

I opened my back door one day, and something small and furry darted past my feet, causing my three cats to start yowling and running around like crazy. It moved too fast for me to see it properly and immediately took up residence behind my fridge. Given I’d been trapping stray kittens in my yard for the last few weeks, I assumed it was another little kitten. My bravest cat stuck her face behind the fridge and then ran off meowing with a scratch on her nose, further leading me to the kitten conclusion.

I wriggled my fridge forward as best I could. I could see a small ball of fluff back there, so I bravely reached in, grabbed it, and hauled it out.

It kept coming… and coming… and coming. It took my brain a second to process that instead of a stray kitten, I was now holding a very pretty sable ferret. The ferret, to its credit, seemed happy to be held and was making happy little squeaking noises and sniffing my hand.

I was standing in my kitchen, holding a ferret, absolutely dumbstruck about what my next move was when I heard someone knocking on my front door. 

I opened it a crack to find a very exasperated neighbor and his daughter, around seven.

Neighbor: “Hi. I’m so sorry, but my daughter’s ferret has gotten out and we think he might have gotten into your yard. Is it okay if we go back there to check?”

I opened the door further and held out the wriggling little tube-shaped rat who had clearly heard his family’s voices and was now making a bid for freedom.

Me: “I hope this is him. Otherwise, something super weird is happening.”

Daughter: *Absolutely filled with glee* “YOSHI!”

This story is part of the Readers’-Favorite-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

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