My area is extremely diverse. It is impossible to go anywhere and not encounter a non-white person. As such, racism in my area tends to be very minimal, since it is very difficult to live here if you’re a racist old cow. Unfortunately, some people don’t seem to care. I’m doing my own thing when this woman comes up. She doesn’t greet me or anything; she just blurts out:

Customer: “Why are all your tomatoes Mexican? Do you not have any tomatoes grown in the US?”

Me: *Shocked* “Uh… Let me go ask the produce manager. She knows more about this than I do.”

I walk over to the produce manager, who is Hispanic.

Me: “That woman over there is wondering why all of our tomatoes are Mexican.”

Manager: “Seriously? Mexican tomatoes? Tell her to complain to the government about that. I don’t have any control over where our produce is grown. It’s about supply and demand versus cost.”

Me: “Right.”

Manager: “Actually, I might have one or two types of tomatoes grown in the US right now. Let’s see…”

She starts checking all the tomatoes.

Manager: “This one says, ‘Product of America.’ And this one is also grown in the US. Oh, this one is Canadian if she’s okay with that. But you can tell her we have some patriotic tomatoes.”

Me: “Okay… where’d she go?”

I look all over the produce department, but the woman is gone. I wonder if it’s because the produce manager is Hispanic, but I say nothing.

Manager: “That’s weird.”

Me: “Yeah. If I see her again, I’ll let her know.”

Manager: “Mexican tomatoes. They’re freaking tomatoes! Just eat them!”

I finish what I am doing and then head up front to give customer service a heads-up in case she decides to complain. The customer service manager is of Egyptian descent, but she’s mistaken for Hispanic all the time. As I’m telling her about what happened, the customer finishes up at the registers. She starts to approach the desk, but she stares at the customer service manager for a minute before leaving the store.

Customer Service Manager: “Was that her?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer Service Manager: “I’m not even Hispanic! I hope she’s not from here. She can go back to wherever she came from.”

I plan a trip to the local superstore. A friend who lives in an apartment has just discovered that her neighbor’s cockroach infestation has found the way into her apartment. She starts freaking out and asks me to pick up roach traps.

The cashier scans them with a look of disgust.

Cashier: “You know, the best way to not have cockroaches is to be clean. You can’t just drop food and not clean it up! That’s disgusting!”

Me: “Not that it’s any of your business, but these are for a friend. A very clean friend. The roaches climbed through the wall from the next apartment.” 

Cashier: *Doubting me* “Oh, really? Why didn’t your ‘friend’ buy these herself?”

She actually makes air quotes when she says, “Friend.”

Me: “If you must know, she’s self-conscious and upset. I volunteered to get them so she wouldn’t have to deal with an ignorant, bigoted b**** like you.”

Her jaw was still dropped as I left the store.

I work in a bank in a very small town. I am Latina. An old man comes in and throws his debit card on the counter.

Customer: “Your stupid ATM won’t take my card!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. Let me pull up the account and make sure there are no restrictions.”

I do this.

Me: “I don’t see any issues. Let me call it in.”

I call our support department, and the rep on the other end says she will look into it. She’s typing away and the customer is still complaining loudly.

Customer: “This all started when you people put Spanish on the ATM.”

Me: “Come again?”

Customer: “Ever since you put Spanish on the ATM, my card doesn’t work.”

Me: “Sir, that’s not how it works.”

Customer: “Of course, it is! Before there was a Spanish option, my card always worked. Now it doesn’t. What else could it be, young lady?”

Me: “Any number of things. That’s why I called our support team, sir.”

The rep on the phone is still typing away but can hear us.

Representative: “Almost there. Did he just say what I think he said?”

Me: “Yes.”

Representative: “That’s… not how it works.”

Me: “Would you like to explain that to him directly?”

Representative: “I’ll pass.”

Customer: “What do we need Spanish for? No one here is even Spanish!”

Representative: “Found the issue! He entered the wrong PIN. Nothing to do with the Spanish function at all. Anything else I can help you with?”

Me: “No, you’ve been very helpful. Thanks!”

I hang up the phone. The customer looks at me expectantly.

Customer: “Well? It’s the Spanish!”

Me: “They said you entered the wrong PIN. I can help you reset it, if you’d like.”

Customer: “But, but, but… the Spanish screwed me up!”

He grabbed his card and stomped out, muttering to himself.

Related:
Totally Estúpido! Part 15
Totally Estúpido! Part 14
Totally Estupido, Part 13
Totally Estupido, Part 12
Totally Estupido, Part 11

It’s Christmas Day and my family is together at my house for dinner. My grandmother has been vocal about her disdain for homosexuality, especially after I came out six months ago, often using religion and obsolete laws — which she describes as “proper” laws — as justification.

My mum has no patience for it; she sees it as hypocritical given how open and proud my grandmother is about the affairs she has had in her life. She has told me repeatedly not to take any of the abuse. I’ve told her I’m willing to put up with it if it keeps the family together. I also don’t see my grandmother often, so I have never really seen the full extent of her diatribes.

When my grandmother arrives and sees me, she immediately goes into a long rant about how they should bring back chemical castration for homosexuals, and that they should refuse treatments for homosexuals with STIs — namely HIV/AIDS. She continues this throughout dinner, making it awkward for many and slowly filling me with simmering rage. My mum keeps telling her to shut up or she’ll throw her out, but as she’s the only one making the threat, it falls on deaf ears.

While waiting for dessert, my grandmother addresses me directly, with my mum glaring daggers at her the entire time.

Grandmother: “[My Name], you need to try being straight. It would make your family happy. It would make me happy, and you want me to be happy, don’t you? You’re going against my wishes being a [slur]. It’s not Christian. Won’t you try being straight? Have you ever tried?”

Me: *Sarcastically* “I have. Have you ever tried not having an affair?”

The room goes completely silent before my mum snorts and bursts out laughing. Several other family members do so while others stare in shock. My grandmother blushes and excuses herself.

After dessert, my mum and dad are cleaning up in the kitchen. My grandmother is in the corner of the lounge smoking while I’m playing on my phone. A loud crashing of pans comes from the kitchen, followed by my mum looking like she could kill, and her cousin shortly after.

Mum: “If anyone in this family thinks my mum deserves an apology because she’s ‘upset’ after being called out on her infidelity, and not her 16-year-old grandson after being told he should be castrated and thrown in prison for life for something he has no control over, then you do not belong in this house, and you do not belong in my life.”

With that, she stormed back into the kitchen. The rest of the evening had a mute calm, with my mum repeatedly glaring at her mum and cousin every time they moved. The morning after, I asked what had happened in the kitchen, but she only told me her cousin wouldn’t be welcome at our house anymore after she “picked her side.”

Admittedly, my response was childish and petty, and I probably should have just kept my mouth shut instead of letting her get to me. My family feels pretty broken right now, and although my mum keeps telling me it isn’t my fault, I can’t help but feel that it is.

It’s Christmas Eve in a large, chain toy store. Usually, we have a price-match guarantee, but we don’t price-match on Christmas Eve or Black Friday. I am working at the customer service desk. An irate older woman customer approaches me.

Customer: “Excuse me, can you price-match [Major Retailer] on this doll?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am we can’t price-match on Christmas Eve.”

Customer: “Well, it says you have a price-match guarantee.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, but not on holidays.”

Customer: “Well, [Major Retailer] only has the black doll; I don’t want to get my granddaughter the black doll.”

She says this with such great scorn that I am flabbergasted.

Me: “Let me get my manager.”

Manager: “Is there a problem?”

Customer: “I need to price-match this doll.”

Manager: “I’m sorry I can’t price-match on Christmas Eve.”

Customer: “Well, I never!”

She storms out.

Manager: “What a b****.”