I work at a boarding kennel. On this particular morning, there are four customers in our reception area. [Customer #1] is a young girl with special needs, and her mother is with her. [Customer #2] is my hero. [Customer #3] is a bitter, mean-spirited hag.

The girl with special needs has short-cut hair that has been dyed in a mix of pink, purple, and blue. She obviously finds communication difficult but she’s always polite. With her mother’s encouragement, she answers the questions I need to ask about her cat and even manages a shy smile as I take the box from her.

I leave my coworker to process payment while I take the cat to get settled, coming back just in time to see the girl’s mother already outside while the girl steps back, holding the door open for [Customer #3] to enter. She swoops in with an exaggerated huff of disgust.

Customer #3: “Teenagers these days, am I right? They have no respect for anyone.”

At first, I assume something must have happened prior to her visit since nothing I’ve witnessed could be seen as remotely disrespectful.

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer #3: “Well, fancy doing that to her hair? Why should I have to look at an ugly [lesbian slur] like that?”

I’m both stunned and outraged, trying to find words that won’t get me fired while secretly desperate to tell her what I really think. The girl in the doorway was already upset about having to leave her cat and is now on the verge of tears.

[Customer #2] is an older gentleman with shock-white hair and an infectious smile that suddenly turns to a stony glare as he speaks up.

Customer #2: “Get your eyes tested, you old hag. She looks great. I might get my hair done like that.” *To the girl* “Do you think it would suit me? I mean, I’m not as pretty as you, but it might look cool? Or I could have green, orange, and red; I’d look like a fruit salad!”

The girl went from tears to giggles in seconds and nodded enthusiastically at his suggestion for what colours he might try in his hair. [Customer #3] ended up storming out in disgust. We never learned why she was there in the first place.

Thank you, sir, for saying what I couldn’t and for putting a smile back on that girl’s face.

This story is part of our Best Of June 2021 roundup!

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I have a fairly unusual, high-pitched voice. It is especially noticeable when I use my “customer service voice.” I often have people mock me by speaking in a much higher pitch than normal or laugh out loud as soon as they hear it, and it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. However, it isn’t usually THIS bad.

Me: “Good afternoon, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’d like a root beer and a Coke.”

Me: “Sure! Would you like anything else?”

The customer suddenly speaks in a much higher pitch than before.

Customer: “Umm, we’re actually transgender.”

He and his passenger crack up laughing.

Me: “Uhhh… Okay. That’ll be $2.13.”

It takes me a minute to process what they just said. I have a response ready by the time they get to my window, which takes a few minutes. Two teenagers pull up.

Me: “Hi, you guys ordered the root beer and Coke?”

Customer: “Yep, that’s us.”

Me: “Okay, well, I hate to judge, but you’re not actually trans, are you? You heard me speak and thought it would be funny to mock me. It’s not funny to make fun of trans people, and I don’t appreciate being laughed at.”

Customer: “Wow, are you really saying you think I don’t like gay people? I love gay people! My mom is gay! My little sister is bi! I love gay people!”

I start to respond, but he interrupts me.

Customer: “Are you really going to refuse to serve us because I made a joke? Are you that immature and so easily offended that you’ll refuse to serve me for a joke? You shouldn’t have a job at this kind of place if you’re so thin-skinned.”

Me: *Forceful but friendly* “Yes, I am refusing to serve you. Please feel free to leave.”

Customer: “Wow, are you serious? You’re really going to be so immature?”

Me: *With a smile on my face* “Yep!” *Even more forcefully* “Please feel free to leave.”

Customer: “Then go f*** yourself!” *Speeds away*

I told my manager about this incident and she thought I should have been harsher with them. I was prepared to be but was happy that I got them to leave, even if they didn’t give me enough time to explain the difference between gay and trans people, or why it’s not at all okay to make that kind of “joke.” This job sucks, but at least one of my managers has my back.

I am a university freshman and I’ve just moved out of my home to study in a prestigious university. I get most of my after-lesson meals at a small Apulian sandwich shop. I usually order either a calzone and a beer or a sandwich with bologna, chard, and chickpea mousse, plus some tonic water if I felt in a healthier mood. One day, after several months, I notice that they also have an octopus, dried tomato, and olive puree sandwich. Curious, I set out to order it.

Me: “Hello. I would like a Monopoli-style sandwich and a tonic water.” 

Cashier: *Snapping around to face me* “No, we don’t have that. We haven’t had any octopus for months. Do [University] students talk to each other, or is being annoying know-it-alls toward us common mortals all they do?”

I’m taken aback and, obviously, offended. After some confused sputtering, I collect myself enough to speak up again.

Me: “Get me your manager, please.”

The cashier turns around and claps a couple of times, and the manager, a woman looking very much like the cashier, arrives.

Manager: *Blithely* “Yo, what’s going on?”

Cashier: “This guy over here wants to talk to you.”

Me: *Annoyed* “Yeah, I’d like to complain about your cashier; she’s being rude to me over a question.”

Cashier: “He asked me if we had anything with octopus! Again! It’s not my fault students from [University] keep thinking it’s like back at Daddy’s home and want everything right now.”

Me: *Bellowing somewhat* “I just asked for a sandwich, politely at that, and you blew to me—”

Manager: “Yeah, yeah. What counts as polite in your mansion isn’t polite in the real world. Now get out.”

Me: “Gladly.”

I stormed out and went out to try out the university canteen, which did prove to be pretty decent, actually. As it turned out, the university I went to had a reputation as a “gentrification machine” of unheard-before proportions, and the owners of the shop were two activist sisters doing activism against it, but, even so, was it really necessary to insult somebody for a simple question?

[Coworker #1] works in the next office over but takes his lunch at the same time as ours. Some days he will blank us; other days he won’t leave us alone. He is okay apart from his some strange opinions and his outlook on life, in particular on women and their “role” in life and the workplace. Personally (and as a guy), I still find him odd and backward and would rather have nothing to do with him. 

[Coworker #2] and I are chatting about family life when [Coworker #1]’s tray lands on our table with a thud. 

He interrupts us.

Coworker #1: “Well, I would never have children.”

Me: “Okay…”

Coworker #2: “I love my children. They are a handful but they give so much love.”

Coworker #1: “Nah, all part of your female biological programming. It’s just nature.”

Me: “Okay, I… err… don’t know what to say to that.”

Coworker #2: “You know what? I think I’m going to get a head start on that presentation. [My Name], are you coming?”

Me: “Oh, the presentation. Sure, let me just finish my lunch really quick.”

Coworker #1: *Seemingly not noticing* “You see, women are programmed by their bodies to want and love children, allowing men to go out and hunt.”

Me: “And that’s what you are? A hunter?”

Coworker #1: “Well, yes. Yes, I am. I will never be burdened by family or children. I am the hunter and need independence.”

I finished my lunch and looked at [Coworker #1], his cardigan stained from lunches previous, looking like he couldn’t hunt down a cheese sandwich.

As far as I know, [Coworker #1] did get called in for sensitivity training, among many other things. But he never crossed the line enough to get disciplined properly. The greatest punishment was probably his own company.

I’m a science teacher at a small high school. For a few years, I’ve also been handing out Vetinari points, or vet points, for students that answer difficult questions, ask truly insightful questions, or otherwise do something to impress me. The students can then trade the points in for a few potential benefits, most noticeably a small increase in a future test score.

A little while ago, the parent who gave birth to one of our students came out as trans and started his transition. It seems this detail has only recently filtered down to some of the less enlightened students in our school, though. I’ve recently warned one bully in particular about his transphobic comments and harassment.

On this particular day, I’m alone in my room during a break period grading papers while the student in question is at his locker right outside of my room. I’m not listening to his conversation at first, until I overhear a non-school-appropriate synonym for penis that I won’t be repeating here, coming from the hallway. Since I came in partway into the conversation, I am only able to deduce part of the conversation between the bully and the student, though it is clear from tone and attitude alone that the bully is intentionally harassing my student.

Bully: “…mom has a [penis] now.”

Student: “You clearly don’t understand anything about being trans.”

Bully: “What’s there to know?!”

I have already gotten up and am headed out to handle the situation, but by the time I get out there, the student has already started responding with such confidence that I choose to let him finish before intervening. He is literally counting off points on his finger as he speaks.

Student: “First, I don’t have a mom. Second, of my two fathers, only one has, or will ever have, a [penis]. Three, I think you’re just jealous I can kill Macbeth and you can’t.”

Bully: “Huh?”

They are covering “Macbeth” in English around this time. In the play, it’s prophesied that “none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.”

Me: “[Student], you just earned yourself one vet point for coming up with a much better subversion of that prophecy than the actual play managed, though you should both use less vulgar terminology next time you wish to discuss a penis.”

Student: “Oh, umm… yes, sir. Thank you.”

Me: “[Bully], I’ve already warned you twice about transphobic comments. Now you will be spending your lunch discussing it with the principal, instead.”

All of us teachers were a little worried for this student originally when his father transitioned, but he proved us all wrong. He handled every question about his father with just as much confidence and conviction, without once losing his cool or lashing out in anger, as he did this time. More than once, I saw him inform ignorant students about what it meant to be trans with such confidence that he managed to convince even some of those who were originally skeptical of the concept to support his father’s transition. It was quite refreshing seeing not only how strongly he stood by his father’s transition but how well (most) of the student body ended up taking and supporting the transition after he explained things to them.

This story is part of our Best Of June 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of June 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of June 2021 roundup!