I hop on a register to help get the line down. I go to the second customer on the nearest line.

Me: “Hi, I can take you at the next register.”

A woman comes from the back of the line and goes right to my register.

Woman: “Hello? Can you come do your job? I have places to be!”

I turn to the customer I approached.

Me: “I’m so sorry. We can—”

Customer: “You can go. I’ll go after her.”

I go back to the register and see that she hasn’t unloaded any of her things.

Me: “Do you have a membership?”

Woman: *Rolls her eyes* “Yes.”

Me: “Do you have the card, or can I enter your number?”

She says her phone number, each digit quieter than the last.

Me: “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear that. Could you—”

Woman: *Screams her phone number* “BETTER?!”

Me: *Smiling* “Much better. Thank you. Please put your items on the belt.”

She huffs but empties her cart.

Woman: “They only let r****ds work here, huh?”

Customer: “You should apply, then.”

I nearly drop the glass jar I just scanned. The woman looks from me to the man behind her.

Woman: “Are you f****** kidding? He can’t talk to me like that!”

Me: “Your total is [hundreds of dollars].”

Woman: *Tosses several $100 bills at me* “I’m sure you’re used to much smaller bills being thrown your way.”

I start checking the bills against the light and with the counterfeit pen.

Woman: “Are you kidding?! Do I look like some broke b**** making fake money?”

I still haven’t said a word. I give her the change, and she storms off. I turn to the next customer.

Me: “I apologize about that.”

Customer: “No problem. I got her on video. I’m going to see if her employer knows what a b**** she is.”

Since she screamed her phone number, it wasn’t hard to find her. It turns out she was an elementary school teacher! She was put on leave until the end of the school year and was not invited to renew her employment contract the next year.

I am a tour guide in Central America. I’ve taken a small group of American women travelling together on a week-long itinerary to a restaurant that specializes in local cuisine that is hard to find in most places in the USA. They’re all enjoying the meal, except one.

Me: “[Tourist], are you okay? Do you not like the food?”

Tourist: “I’m fine, thanks.”

I notice that she has started to munch on a protein bar.

Me: “Are you not feeling well?”

Tourist: *Sternly* “I’m fine, thanks!“

I leave it for now, and we continue our tour. I notice the entire day that she eats only from a small duffel bag of protein bars. I am now worried that we’ve neglected to take account of any dietary requirements, and I bring this up with her.

Tourist: “No, it’s just I don’t trust any of this local food!”

Me: “I assure you that we are only going to highly-regarded and well-maintained restaurants. They’re perfectly safe for—”

Tourist: “It’s all Mexican food!”

Me: “Well, yes, we’re in Mexico. But we’ve also been to a wide range of eateries, not just Mexican, such as—”

Tourist: “Yes, but they’re all in Mexico! Look, I’ll be fine! Just do the tour!”

By day four, she was complaining of stomach cramps, and her farts were so bad that I thought they would strip the paint off the interior of the bus. I had to help her find a McDonald’s or something so that she would eat actual food.

Related:
His Constipación Is Making Him Estúpido!

When you sign up to be a driver for [Delivery Service], you are informed that you must use your red insulated [Service] bag to pick up and deliver the food you are delivering — obviously for food quality purposes.

I was a manager for a fast food chain. When we started paying [Service] to deliver our food, [Fast Food Chain] made a point to put in the contract with [Service] that the red bag was required for the driver to even be able to pick up our food — again, for food quality purposes. Fries don’t keep. I will also add that, for this reason, we did not make the fries until the driver arrived to pick the food up so they were as fresh as possible. (It took three minutes, so it wasn’t a huge inconvenience for said driver.)

Ninety-nine percent of the time, if a driver came in without their bag, we would ask if they had it, and normally, it would be in their car, so we would begin making the fries while they went to their car to get it. If they didn’t have it, we wouldn’t give them the order. (And [Service] would refund the customer.)

Then, there was one driver who came in: a Black woman who may have been in her early thirties.

Driver: “I don’t have my [Service] bag.”

Me: *Calmly* “Without your bag, I cannot give you the order.”

She started yelling and cursing at me. Finally, I looked at her and said:

Me: “Look, lady, you can stand here and cause a scene all you want, but you will not be leaving my store with this order.”

Driver: “Fat white b****.” *Leaves*

A few days later, the same lady came in and still didn’t have her bag.

Me: “Look, you know you’re supposed to have your bag. When you sign up to work for [Service], you are told that. Now, I’m sorry, but I cannot give you this order without an insulated bag. I honestly would have no issue giving you the order if you had any type of thermal insulated bag. There is a [Retail Chain] a few doors down. If you can just go purchase any type of thermal insulated bag from there for $5 or less and bring it back, I will gladly give you the food and $5 out of my pocket to cover the cost of the bag.”

She did that, and I stuck to my word and gave her the order and $5.

Less than an hour later, I received an email on the computer in the office saying there was a customer complaint. They were threatening to take legal action and to go to social media to tell their “extensive list of followers” about how they “were treated”. It was from the freaking [Service] driver, saying I had called her racial slurs and belittled her for being a delivery driver, and that she had proof.

I sent an email back requesting said proof and warning her that if she went to social media without the so-called proof she had, then she would be sued for slander. There was no response after that. I called [Service] and had her blocked from delivering for my store.

About a week went by, and here she came again. This time, she came to the counter, told me who she was picking up an order for (through a different deliver service), and said:

Driver: “Ask me for my bag.”

Me: *Looking her dead-a** in the face* “You dont have to have a bag to deliver for [Service #2].”

She was PISSED!

(Honestly, it makes no sense to me why it’s a big deal for [Service] drivers to have their bags when [Service #2] doesn’t have bags, but hey, it’s a rule for [Service] and is in the contract between them and [Fast Food Chain], so I’m following direct orders from my district and regional managers.)

Anyway, I got a call about forty-five minutes after [Driver] left with the order. It was the customer she was supposed to be delivering to, saying she never received her order. I took care of my customer and remade her food (for free, obviously), and her husband came and picked it up.

Customer’s Husband: “The driver finally arrived about five minutes after my wife got off the phone with you, but the food wasn’t edible.”

Me: “I’m so sorry. Is there anything else you’d like that you didn’t order? That will also be free of charge.”

Customer’s Husband: “No, it’s okay. I understand that it’s not your fault.”

He was kind, but I still felt terrible.

I came to find out that the customers only lived five minutes from the store, so there really was no reason their food should’ve taken that long to get to them. I called [Service #2] and had [Driver] blocked from delivering for us with them, too, and I have yet to see the proof she supposedly had of me calling her racial slurs.

This story is from a while ago now, and it is very much paraphrased and some of the legal language has been simplified to layman’s terms.

I am applying for a legal job that’s very much inside my profession — so much so that when sending in my resume, I include in my hobbies section my personal blog, which at the time is a relatively well-read website about the very niche section of law I studied. (This is before social media, and the average Internet user’s attention span was, shall we say, longer?)

I started the blog when I was in law school, and I thought including it when applying for this particular law firm was a good idea since they notoriously only hire graduates from my particular law school.

I am halfway through my interview, and I feel it is going well. I am answering the questions calmly and quickly, making sure to showcase my deep knowledge of the subjects. I am being interviewed by three partners at the firm, and one of them has been silently glaring at me the whole time. He finally speaks up.

Partner: “I noticed that on your resume you lied about your authoring [Legal Blog]. That’s not a good look.”

Me: *Momentarily taken aback* “I… I didn’t lie about that. That’s my blog.”

Partner: “That blog is written by an A.B. Smith.”

Me: “That’s a pen name. I am the actual author, and I have the credentials to prove it.”

Partner: “That blog is written by a man, and not by a fresh graduate.”

Me: “Can you please specify where in the blog it indicates the gender of the author or reveals any details about their age or professional status? If you’d just let me—”

Partner: “It’s just not a good look. It’s not a good look for us to consider hiring someone who tries to plagiarize someone else’s work, and it’s an even worse look for you.”

Despite my attempts to protest, this partner seems to hold a bigger sway over the other two, so the interview is cut short, and I am given the polite “Thank you for coming in” speech that means, “It’s a no.” I can’t be sure, but I also get the distinct vibe from this older man that he can’t be convinced that a young woman could write my blog.

When I get home, I admit that I am angry, and when I am angry, I write. I write up a blog about the interview. (I don’t name names, but I do name the law firm.)

I write about how ironic it is that a law firm dedicated to upholding the law has partners who are self-appointed judges, juries, and executioners who are disinterested in looking at the evidence.

I write about the disappointment of going to my particular law school in the hopes of working for this particular firm and that, despite my obvious knowledge of my material and my darn-good score when passing the bar, I have been dismissed because of one item on the “hobbies” section of my resume.

I also write about the hint of sexism in the experience, being very careful to word that section in a way that isn’t libelous (lawyer here!).

I put the blog up and go about my day.

A few weeks later, I get a call from a woman I have never heard of.

Caller: “Hi, this is [Caller] from [Law Firm that I interviewed for]. Is this [My Name]?”

Me: “That is me.”

Caller: “Great! Do you also go by [Pen Name] and write the [Blog]?”

Me: “What is this about?”

Caller: “I am calling to ask you to take down [blog about the interview]. It contains information that is factually incorrect, and we—”

Me: “Who is ‘we’?”

Caller: “I am calling from [Law Firm].”

Me: “Yes, but who are you, exactly? Are you a lawyer?”

Caller: “I’m a legal secretary.”

Me: “And who do you work for?”

Caller: “[Law Firm].”

Me: “Yes, again, I know that. Do you work for a particular partner?”

Caller: *Hesitantly* “I work for [Partner].”

As I suspected, this is the same partner who outright called me a liar.

Me: “Have [Partner] call me directly.”

Caller: “Well, he’s a very busy—”

Me: “Have him call me. I won’t talk to anyone else.”

I hang up, feeling my anger rising again but also feeling a shot of adrenaline from the knowledge that I’ve rattled the cage of the lawyer who wronged me.

Less than an hour later, I get another call. It’s the partner himself! Ignoring niceties, he jumps straight into his demand.

Partner: “Look, take down that hit piece. It’s a blatant lie and—”

Me: “Oh, so in the interview, you accused me of not being capable of authoring that blog, but now you expect me to take down something from that very same blog? Which is it? You can’t have it both ways.”

Partner: “Look, you’ve made your point, but the fact remains that what you’ve written is factually incorrect and—”

Me: “Tell me anything that’s written in that blog that didn’t actually happen.”

Partner: “You called me sexist!”

Me: “Did I mention you by name?”

Partner: “You know that’s not relevant—”

Me: “I know what’s relevant in a court of law. Do you?” 

Partner: “Look, can you please take down the blog? It’s been commented on a lot at [Law School], and it’s affecting our recruitment.”

Me: “Why? Are you worried it’s ‘not a good look‘?“

There is a pause. He recognizes the phrase.

Partner: “Take it down, or we’ll sue for libel—”

Me: “Send it to A.B. Smith.”

There was another pause. I decided right there and then that if this man apologized and admitted his mistake, I would gladly take down the blog and move on with my life. Instead, he just hung up, and I kept the blog up.

Over twenty years later, I still haven’t been sued.

I work in a library. I was out on medical leave for a few months and was massively anxious about returning to work without having fully healed and how it would affect my ability to help patrons. I made it back to work and had my first desk shift in months.

A man needed help downloading and printing something. I gave him several suggestions about how to proceed when he interrupted me.

Patron: “The other girl who helped me did something different.”

He would reference this “other girl” several times.

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m confused. No children work in the building, so I’m not sure who could have been helping you in the past.”

Patron: *Stammering* “Well, you know, like a bigger, older girl.”

Me: “Do you mean a woman?”

Patron: “Well, yeah, that’s just what I call ’em…”

He trailed off with what I hoped was shame while I continued to troubleshoot his download. When I finished helping the gentleman, I took a victory lap in the workroom proclaiming that I was back, bay-BEE!