My fiancée is shopping for a fancy women’s suit for our upcoming wedding. To save money, she, her brother, and their mom go to a department store. My fiancée finds a great suit that she looks amazing and comfortable in, but now she will need a tie for it. She goes to an associate, an older woman, for help.

The associate gives my fiancée — who does have a butch hairstyle — and her women’s suit a dirty look and tells her that women’s scarves, but not ties, are nearby and men’s ties are upstairs.

My fiancée still got the suit.

(My fiancé and I have gone to our local comic shop and gaming store to play in a “Magic: The Gathering” draft tournament. After everyone has signed up and paid, the owner tells us to take a seat at the tables so that he and his employee can pass out the packs of cards. As he’s handing out packs, the shop employee taps a guy on the shoulder and points at the girl sitting next to him.)

Employee: “She’s not playing, so she can’t sit there.” *shrugs* “I’m not saying you’d cheat, but those are the rules so that people aren’t tempted to cheat.”

Guy: “Oh, okay.” *to the girl* “Sorry, baby.”

Girl: “That’s okay. I’m just going to take the car and go grab something to eat, okay?”

(She gets up and starts to leave the shop. The guy watches her go and notices me as she walks past me.)

Guy: *suddenly pointing at me* “Hey! If my girlfriend can’t sit with me, then she can’t sit with him!”

Employee: *without looking up from what he’s doing* “Yes, she can. She’s playing.”

Guy: *scowling* “But you made my girlfriend leave!”

Employee: *rolls his eyes* “I said she’s playing. If you want your girlfriend to sit with you, go pay [Shop Owner] $15 so she can play.”

Guy: *scoffs* “My girlfriend doesn’t want to play Magic.”

Employee: *pointing at me* “Well, she does want to play and has paid her $15, so she can sit right there with her man if she wants to.”

Guy: *grumbling* “It’s not fair.”

Employee: *groans* “Life’s not fair. But she’s paid her money and it wouldn’t be fair for me to make her leave.”

(The guy starts to complain again but a friend of ours, who is sitting next to him, cuts him off.)

Friend: *annoyed* “Oh, my God, shut up! She’s in here with him all the time! She legitimately knows what she’s doing and paid to sit her a** in that chair, so shut the f*** up or do us all a favor and leave!”

(The guy sulked the rest of the evening and even pouted when I came in fourth place.)

(I’m working the information desk with my coworker when this happens. A middle-aged, blonde woman with a strong Eastern European accent comes up, looking very angry.)

Customer: “I need police!”

Me: “Okay, what for?”

Customer: “My purse stolen! I vas sitting at bench outside, I put my purse under, and next thing I know it gone. Person next to me, gone, too!”

Me: “And how long ago was this?”

Customer: “About ten minutes ago.”

Me: “Oh, wow. I’m so sorry that happened to you. Do you need the number for the police?”

Customer: “Yes!”

(I give her the non-emergency number for the local police.)

Me: “Here. You can call that number and file a stolen property report. The police should talk to you soon.”

(She dials the number on her cell phone and starts talking.)

Customer: “Yes, I need police officer!” *pause* “My purse stolen!” *pause* “I was sitting at bus stop, I put my purse under the bench, and when I look up it gone! Person next to me, gone too!” *pause* “Okay.” *pause* “No.” *pause* “Ten minutes ago, why?” *pause* “What?! But why can you not send someone now? I at library, [address], you always have officer here! But, but…” *pause* “Fine! But be here quick!”

(I’m definitely not liking where this conversation is going. For the record, we sometimes have an officer stationed in our library, because we tend to get a higher-than-average number of patrons who do not know how to behave well, but only on weekend evenings.)

Customer: “You idiot! Why you give me that number?!”

Me: “Wha… Ma’am?”

Customer: “I need officer right now! Why you not give me 911?!”

Me: “Well, ma’am… I’m sorry, but you described a crime that happened a while ago. Dialing non-emergency and filing a report is usually the wisest thing to do.”

Customer: “But I need right now! Why officer not here?! You alvays have one!”

Me: “Well… that’s usually only on evenings, ma’am.”

Customer: “So, now, what I do?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, but the best I can tell you is to wait for the officer to come.”

(She stomps off angrily. I assume that will be the end of it. Stupid me. About four minutes later:)

Customer: “This all your fault!”

Me: “Huh?”

Customer: “All my documents gone! My social security, my passport, my medication — gone!”

Me: “Well… I’m sorry, madam, but you are expected to be responsible for your own personal property.”

Customer: “So, why not call 911?!”

Me: *patience stretching just a tad thin* “Ma’am, with all due respect, if you know the number for 911, why not just call them yourself?!”

Customer: “Because you have officer here in library!”

Coworker: “I’ll call 911 for you, ma’am.”

Customer: “Thank you! He know what he doing!”

(Even after that, she still comes back to harass me several times at my desk, telling me how stupid and incompetent I am, how she’s going to make my life miserable if she doesn’t get her purse back, etc. She also proceeds to talk over my coworker whenever he tries to mediate between us. But I’m still willing to let this go, until this happens!)

Customer: “You know vat? I bet it was black guy!”

Me: *keeps my mouth shut, as I don’t want to make an already volatile situation worse* “Mm-hmm.”

Customer: “I’m serious! That’s all black people do: steal! I remember all my pill stolen when I talk to one once!”

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t speculate like that. It’s offensive.”

Customer: “But it truth!”

(Did I mention that my coworker standing next to me, who called 911 for her, is also black? Remind me to commend him for his patience. She goes back to sit down, but — you guessed it — not even two minutes later:)

Customer: “If you just call 911 first time, I no be here, you stupid, incompetent, worthless little—“

Me: *temper finally breaking* “MA’AM, I HAVE DONE THE BEST THAT I CAN UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES! NOW, WILL YOU PLEASE STOP HARASSING ME AT MY OWN DESK AND STOP BLAMING ME FOR THE EFFECTS OF YOUR OWN FOOLISHNESS?!”

Customer: “I NOT HARASSING; I TELLING YOU TO DO YOUR JOB!”

Coworker: “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Okay, let’s calm down. [My Name], the police officer is here; how about I take [Customer] downstairs?

Me: *deep breath* “Yes, please.”

(A few minutes later.)

Coworker: “Okay, the officer’s taking her statement, but he also decided it’d be a good idea to ask her to leave the library.”

Me: “Good. Thank you, [Coworker].” *deep sigh* “I want to feel bad for her, since she did get stolen from, but some people really make it difficult. Especially considering this didn’t even take place on our property.”

(I somehow never got written up for this.)

(I work at a gift shop for a zoo. Today, a young boy, probably around four or five, enters with his parents. The mother tells him he can get one thing, and after a little bit of looking around, the boy reaches for a plush mermaid.)

Boy: “I want this one!”

Mom: “No, you’re a boy. Pick something for boys.”

Boy: “But I want a mermaid!”

Mom: “I said no. You’re a boy. Pick something else!”

(The boy is clearly upset, and his mother is starting to look angry. The boy looks down at the mermaid in his hands again.)

Boy: “But I want this one…”

(The mother takes the mermaid out of his hands, throws it on the shelf, and grabs him by the arm.)

Mom: “Fine. You’re not getting anything, then!”

(She drags the young boy out of the gift shop, and he’s now starting to cry. The father, who was watching all of this in silence with an equally angry look on his face, waits for the mother to get out of view, picks the mermaid up, and comes to my register to pay for it. Before I can say anything, he whispers quietly enough that none of the other children in the shop can hear him.)

Dad: “I’ve had it with that b****. If my son wants a mermaid, my son’s getting a f****** mermaid.”

(He apologized for his wife causing a scene, and I gave him my employee discount for being such an awesome father.)

(My wife and I speak fluent American Sign Language since we have some deaf relatives and a number of deaf friends. Sometimes we use sign rather than speaking out loud, whether we’re home or we’re out. It’s good practice to keep sharp, and it has some other benefits. One night we are out to dinner at a crowded but classy restaurant. After ordering and receiving our food, we begin signing to each other. Another couple is then seated at the table next to us. It’s impossible not to overhear them unless we were truly deaf.)

Man: “Look, those two are deaf and dumb.”

(My wife and I physically shudder so hard that I think he might notice. “Deaf and dumb” is a very old and ignorant expression. The couple continues making comments about us as they order and start to eat, amid other conversation. Here are a few remarks.)

Man: “Do you think they can drive? I don’t think they should be allowed.”

Woman: “Do you think they can have kids?”

Man: “Flopping their hands like that is stupid; they should just learn to lip-read.”

Woman: “How can they read the menu? The restaurant must have one in braille.”

Man: “They look so weird. Why did they even come here?”

(Our server comes up to check on us)

Server: “How are you doing? Do you two need anything?”

Me: *speaking, loud and clear* “We’re doing great! Thanks. Just the bill soon, I think.”

Wife: *speaking, loud and clear* “The food was great. My compliments to the chef.”

(The other couple just sat there staring for a few moments. It seemed to take forever for them to come to the realization that we could hear them the entire time. The man seemed almost offended, and even sputtered a few times, as if wanting to say something to us, but neither actually said another word. My wife and I, however, were able to continue signing freely about how ignorant they were, and how fun it was to see their reaction. How can anyone be so dense as to think deaf people can’t have kids?! Of everything they said, that was the worst.)