(I am a manager for a large, well-known Canadian furniture and appliance retailer that stocks many items in-store. Like any modern business, we have terminals to take debit and credit cards. The financial institution that provides these terminals and services to us is based out of the province of Quebec, as many financial institutions in Canada are, especially ones involved with the furniture, appliance, and electronic retail industry. I am at the front desk when one of our sales associates comes up with a customer to put through a sale for a freezer. The customer has several pounds of meat arriving to him tomorrow and needs a freezer in-stock to preserve it. Everything goes normally up until right after the sale is paid for and completed, and then this happens:)

Customer: “I need to cancel this order.”

Associate: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I’M CANCELLING THIS AND GETTING MY F****** MONEY BACK!!”

Associate: “Whoa, we can do that, but what’s the problem?”

Customer: “I see on your terminal that [Our Company] banks with [Quebec Financial Institution]!”

Me: “Well, yes, they provide us with terminals and things like our financing plans…”

Customer: “That’s bulls***! We don’t want [Our Company] here in the west if you do business with Quebec!”

Me: “Sir, I’m not sure I understand the issue here. You don’t want to do business with us because we have terminals from [Quebec Financial Institution]?”

Customer: “Obviously! Quebec doesn’t want a pipeline for our oil but has no problem leeching off our economy to fund their government!”

(The customer proceeds to rant about the oil, the Quebec government, and French people for a minute. To clarify, in recent news, Quebec shot down a plan to have a pipeline built across Canada between our provinces for Alberta’s oil industry. Pipelines can be a controversial topic to some, but apparently, some more than others.)

Me: “Sir, you do understand that [Quebec Financial Institution] is a private business and has nothing to do with the Quebec Government?

Customer: “I don’t care! Quebec and the French won’t be getting any of my money! Now hurry up with my refund so I can take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “All right, but there’s no need for that kind of talk.”

(At this point, my general manager, who is partially French himself, must have overheard part of the conversation, and walks over to the till.)

General Manager: *slightly annoyed* “What’s this about the French? I’m French.”

Customer: *sarcastically* “Good for you.”

(My associate and I get nervous and urge our GM to step away, assuring him we’ll handle this so nothing escalates, which thankfully it doesn’t, even though I’m getting fed up with this customer at this point. I finish up the paperwork and refund the customer.)

Customer: “Make sure you write down the real reason I’m cancelling this, not something made-up!”

Me: “Oh, yes, it’s already written here; no one would believe me if it wasn’t.”

Customer: “I’ll be getting a hold of your home office, telling them we don’t want your company here if this is who you do business with!”

Me: “Yeah, good luck with that.”

(The customer finishes up with our associate, and then proceeds to storm towards the doors.)

Associate: “There you go, sir. Good luck finding a freezer!”

Customer: “Oh, I will! There are better companies here that don’t deal with the French! I’ll be going to [Competitor]!”

Me: *yelling over to ensure he can hear* “We own them!”

Customer: *yelling back* “Then I won’t be going there! I’ll just go to [Different Competitor]!”

Me: “They deal with [Quebec Financial Institution], as well, and they don’t stock appliances!”

Customer: “F*** YOU!”

(I am sixteen and a lesbian. I am ringing up a couple with their son.)

Mother: “You’re a very nice and polite and beautiful young lady! You’ll have no trouble finding a husband.”

Me: “Well, I’m actually a lesbian, but thank you. I’m sure I’ll find a wife.”

(All of a sudden, the mother frowns, and then grabs her groceries off the belt.)

Mother: “I’m not letting some homosexual touch my groceries! What kind of example will this set for my child?!”

(I am too shocked to respond. That’s when a voice from below speaks up.)

Son: “Mommy, didn’t you say that love is the most important thing? So does it matter is she loves boys or if she loves girls, as long as she loves them?”

(The mother’s face turned beet red from embarrassment. I was so proud of this kid and to this day I still am.)

(I have recently moved to Texas and am applying for a job. I apply as a window cleaner and text the number shown on the ad. Soon, a reply comes. An old-sounding man calls me. I am female with a unisex name.)

Old Man: “Is this [My Name]?”

Me: *pleasantly* “Yes, it is!”

Old Man: “Oh… um… I notice… from your voice… you’re a female? Correct?”

Me: “Yes?”

Old Man: “Sorry, I’m not looking for a female… Only men.”

Me: *aghast by his sexism* “Wow, that’s illegal!”

Old Man: *sputters some gibberish*

Me: “Next time, put it in your ad!” *hangs up and blocks number*

(Welcome to Texas, I guess! I told my male roommates what happened and they thought I must’ve been mistaken. I don’t blame them; I wouldn’t have believed this if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears! I would’ve reported the company but he didn’t put the name on the ad.)

(I work in a music school that, among other things, offers classes for babies and toddlers. I get this phone call today.) 

Customer: “Hi. I had a question about registering my grandson for your baby class. I have a coupon from your ad, but can I use that if I register online?”

Me: “Sure, there will be a part in the online form to put your coupon information from the ad.”

Customer: “Oh, great! I’m so excited to get him started! He’s always wiggling and moving around when he hears music. His mother and I never moved like that. It must be from his father; he’s one-quarter black.”

Me: *speechless*

I am a security guard, and I worked shoplifting prevention for a highly publicized and hugely popular annual Midnight Madness sale that has always drawn a large and sometimes rowdy crowd.

A huge line had formed at the door before midnight, waiting for the store to open. Among the first in line was a woman of about my age — mid-30s — who was obviously disabled with cerebral palsy. She wore a heavy-looking brace system on both legs and partway up her torso and walked using two canes. Because of the disability and the braces and canes, she walked a little slower and less steadily than able-bodied people. We were chatting while everyone waited for the store to open and I warned her that some people get pushy during sales like these.

A few minutes later, the store unlocked its doors and officially opened for the sale. The disabled lady began walking in, heading for the store’s scooters. She was doing just fine until a scuzzy-looking chick wielding a baby carriage like a weapon came up from behind her and started pushing and yanking at the disabled woman, who looked like she was going to fall because of the aggressive baby-mama shoving at her.

I ran over. I took the disabled lady’s arm and told the baby-mama that she had no right to shove another customer.

She retorted with, “These [mentally disabled slurs] have no right to be here, holding up the line!”

At that point, I saw red. The disabled lady was not mentally impaired, and even if she had been, she still had the right to be there and the right to be treated with respect and not called a hideously bigoted term.

I said to the disabled lady, “Would you like to press charges for physical assault against this jerk?”, and she said no. At that point, the baby-mama started screaming obscenities at me and at the disabled lady.

I took baby-mama by the arm and escorted her and her stunned-looking toddler in the baby carriage out forcibly. I told her that she was not welcome back tonight or at any other time. At that, she dropped the trailer-trash obscenity production and started whining about how the store I had just banned her from was the only one within walking distance of her apartment and how was she supposed to get groceries now?!

I said to her that she should have thought of that before assaulting a disabled person and making an absolute embarrassment of herself with the screamed obscenities and the bigoted comment. She whined at me a few minutes more, until I said that I’d be happy to call the police and explain what she did and said to them. She took off fast after that, dragging the baby carriage and the stunned-looking toddler along with her. Good riddance to bad rubbish.