This happens around 1993 or so. I’m about thirteen and my cousin is twelve. She is visiting for the summer. My cousin has very bright strawberry blonde hair, and her hair turns VERY bubblegum pink when she gets in a pool. This happens pretty much every summer.

The problem arises after we get to summer camp after a day at the pool and beach. [Cousin] gets called into the director’s office for having an “unnatural” hair color. He doesn’t believe her when she says that she didn’t dye it. Our grandmother comes to pick us up.

Director: “The rules are very clear; this camp does not tolerate unnatural hair colors.”

Nana: “Sir, this is her natural hair color. We went swimming yesterday and the chemicals in the pool turned her hair pink. This happens often and it will fade in a week or two.”

Director: “That won’t do! You will take her home and dye her hair back to a natural color. She will not be allowed back in until then.”

We leave. [Cousin] is in tears, absolutely baffled about what she did wrong to get kicked out of camp. Nana is muttering up a storm. I start laughing.

Nana: “What’s so funny?”

Me: “Well, the director said that cousin’s hair had to be a natural color, not her natural color. Didn’t she want to dye it black a few weeks ago?”

[Cousin]’s ears perk up. Nana gets a rather evil grin and tells me that I’m absolutely right!

Nana: “[Cousin], do you still want to dye your hair black?”

Cousin: “YES! YES, I DO! Are you really going to let me?”

Nana: “Absolutely, let’s go to the beauty store.”

The next day comes. The director calls us back into the office and calls our grandmother to come get us. The director lays into Nana about how this isn’t a “natural color.”

Nana: “Excuse me, black hair most certainly is a natural dang color!”

Director: “It’s not her natural color.”

Nana: “The rules clearly state ‘natural colors.’ Nowhere does it specify that it must be her natural color.”

Director: “WELL, THAT’S WHAT IT MEANS!”

Nana: “So, you mean to tell me that your black hair, your secretary with the flaming red hair, and the super bleached-out platinum blonde instructor are all your natural colors? Because I know darn well they are not! Now, you will stop harassing my grandchildren, or I’m pulling them out of this program, with a full refund, I’m reporting you to the super head honcho—”

My nana is very good friends with the head honcho, and the director knows it.

Nana: “—and I will convince every parent and grandparent to pull their kids. You have no right to harass children and their bodies. I don’t give a s*** if it’s just hair or not! You do not give impressionable kids body image issues.”

True to her word, she pulled us out after he refused to let it drop and got all the parents to pull their kids and place them in the other camp across town run by the same organization. The head honcho fired the director since numbers got too low to keep his camp open and transferred anyone who wanted to keep their jobs to the other camp. No one was sad to see him go, and the transferred employees were much happier being out from under that tyrant. [Cousin] never heard another peep about her “unnatural” hair.

I’m working at a DIY store. My section includes hardware like drills, nails, and screws. My sister is working in the same store behind the information and rental desk.

Customer: “I’m glad I found a man. I don’t want to ask at the information desk because the woman doesn’t know anything. What kind of screw do I need for my project?”

I know exactly what he needs, but if there is one thing I don’t accept, it is when someone is disrespectful to my family.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t help you with that. I’m afraid you will have to ask my colleague at the information desk.”

The customer did go to the information desk but was still disrespectful toward my sister and demanded to see the manager because he didn’t trust my sister’s answer.

The manager wasn’t in that day and only the assistant manager was available. Unfortunately for the customer, she also was a woman.

Still, the customer did not change his behaviour and kept on disrespecting women. He ended up not having any screws and being banned from the store for the future.

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 12
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 11
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 10
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 9
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 8

I’m working at an emergency call centre line that deals with car insurance regarding accidents, flat tyres, cars not starting, etc.

In Portugal, we speak Portuguese. Many of my colleagues don’t speak or understand English, let alone speak it fluently. I, however, have a British accent, so whenever a difficult English-speaking customer rings, they usually transfer the call to me.

Summer is our busiest time of the year and we have about twenty calls on hold. My caller is a furious American woman.

Caller: “It is unacceptable that you people don’t have an English-speaking option! It takes forever to find someone who can speak English!”

Me: “Right, sorry about your wait. What is your emergency?”

Caller: *Calmer* “Oh, nothing, it’s just that I’m an old lady that lives and drives alone, especially at night time during winter when it’s raining, and I just switched insurance companies, so I wanted to know how long it would take for you to answer my call.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re not in need of any sort of help or danger, and you just called at our busiest time of the year and held up our lines just for a test run?”

Caller: “Yes! And it took you too d*** long to find someone to speak to me in English!”

Me: *In my best customer voice* “Okay, ma’am, I assure you that should you run into any sort of car trouble during wintertime and ring us up, we’ll have someone to answer your call immediately. So, at this particular time, if that will be all, I’m going to ask you to hang the phone, seeing as this is our busiest time of the year and I have real emergencies to attend to.”

Caller: “I sure hope you do. I’ve been living in Portugal for five years alone and can’t be left stranded by myself in case I have car problems in the middle of the road.”

Me: “So, you’re saying you’ve been living here for five years and haven’t bothered to learn the native language? And you expect that everyone you come into contact with knows how to speak English? I should warn you right now that the tow truck drivers we send in cases of emergency speak only Portuguese, and it will be with them directly that you’ll have to deal with.”

Caller: “Then you should report it to your supervisor.”

Me: “Right. If that will be all, goodbye.”

Related:
Do Things Different So Faro From Home

My mother is a long-serving special needs teacher with almost thirty years of experience in the field. After serving in a number of schools, she has spent the last decade and more as an advisory teacher who travels around schools helping them to give appropriate assistance to pupils with disabilities and other educational needs. A lot of what she does involves issuing laptop computers to children who need them, something not all schools seem to understand.

She has been called out to a school that has a headmaster with rather old-fashioned ideas to assess a pupil with motor control issues. Her assessment is that he needs a laptop to enable him to complete his work. She reports this to the headmaster.

Headmaster: “Oh, no. You see, handwriting is one of our key skills here, so we will not allow him to use a computer.”

Mother: *Bluntly* “Well, then, I’ll have to report you to the Equalities Commission.”

Headmaster: *Gasping* “W-WHAT?!”

Mother: “The law says that you must make reasonable provision for pupils with disabilities. You are telling me that you are going to refuse to do that, which means I have no option but to report you to the Equalities Commission.”

Oddly enough, he decided to change his school policy there and then.

I run a free postal service for the homeless in California. There are a lot of people experiencing mental illness, so you get used to unusual behavior. A woman comes to the office.

Woman: “Hi. I’m here to pick up my check. My name is [Woman].”

Me: *Checks the mailboxes* “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t see any mail for you.”

Woman: “It should be there. I work for the CIA, and President Bush called me telling me my check was here.”

It’s 2016 and Obama is president. I just try to be nice because she’s clearly ill.

Me: “Well, have you received mail from them before? Maybe there’s a number you can call.”

Woman: “Oh, no. They communicate with me through a wire in my teeth.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything here for you.”

Woman: “It’s okay. I know it’s not your fault. I just need my money. Hope you have a good day.”

The next day, we get a telephone call. We can’t check mail over the phone due to staff shortage and overflow of clients.

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Man: “Hi, my name is [Man]. Can you check my mail, please?”

Me: “I’m sorry, we can’t check over the phone, but you’re welcome to come to the office.”

Man: “I work full-time, ma’am. I don’t have time to stand in line with all those r****ds.”

Me: *Shocked* “Sir, we don’t use that kind of language here.”

Man: “Well, I think you’re r****ded for working with them!” *Click*

To this day, I can’t get over how the lady, who was sick and suffering, managed to have more class than the “working man.”