Unfair For The Fairer Sex

, , , , , , | Working | September 13, 2018

(My husband and I are both ex-Navy. We met while we were both serving aboard the same ship. Both of us still have and wear our official ship ball caps and cruise jackets. This incident takes place on Veteran’s Day. We are at a restaurant with our son, who is 15. We have just finished eating, and the waitress has brought us the bill. It must be noted that while we have our “gear” showing we’re veterans, we did not ask for the free dish offered to veterans.)

Waitress: *to my husband* “Since I see you’re a veteran, I went ahead and gave you your meal for free.”

Son: “My mom was in the Navy, too. “

Waitress: “Oh.” *to me* “Do you have your military ID?”

Me: “You know, I’ll just pay for mine.”

Waitress: “Well, I can’t give you the free meal without military ID. It’s policy.”

Me: “You didn’t ask for my husband’s military ID.”

Waitress: “Well, he has legitimate military gear. I’ve seen those jackets before and know they’re real.”

Me: “Like this jacket?” *pointing to mine, which looks exactly like my husbands*

Waitress: “Oh… Well… I’ll do it just this once, but next time you need your ID.”

Me: “You know what? Never mind. I didn’t ask for it in the first place. You go ahead and leave it on there. But just so you’re aware, this is the 21st century, and women do serve in the military right along with men.”

(No, I did not get the free Veteran’s Day meal, and no, she did not get a tip, either.)

The Race Card Is Not A Form Of ID

, , , | Right | September 12, 2018

(I work at a gas station, and our policy is that if a person looks under 35 we have to ID them for alcohol before we can even ring them up. A customer brings up a 24-case of beer.)

Me: “Can I see your ID, please?”

(The customer searches his pants.)

Customer: “Sorry, I must have forgot it. But you remember me.”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t, and I can’t sell it to you without ID.”

Customer: “Let me check in my car.”

(He walks out; a few minutes later he comes back.)

Customer: “I don’t have it, but come on! I am old enough!”

Me: “I am sorry, but if you look under 35, we are not allowed to sell this unless you have ID.”

Customer: “It’s because I’m white, huh? That’s why you won’t sell it to me. You have a thing against white people!”

Me: “Sir, if I did, then that would mean that I hated my family, who—”

Customer: “No, no, no, it’s all white people you hate.”

(Walking outside, I see him stop a young white couple who are my regulars. They come in laughing.)

Young Couple: “Wow, that guy out there is nuts. Did you know he is telling everyone who will listen that you are a racist and that you hate white people?”

Me: *shaking my head* “Yep, that’s me! I hate white people. I hate myself, my mom, and my sister.”

(We had a good laugh at that.)

They Are Disabling Themselves With Their Ignorance

, , , , , , , | Friendly | September 11, 2018

(I’m out with a friend and his daughter, who, thanks to complications and sheer medical bad luck, is just now learning to properly speak at the age of seven. Despite this, my friend loves her to the point of giving her anything she wants. We’re shopping, and I’m tagging along to help out, both of us having her read boxes and signs.)

Friend: “All right, [Daughter], what’s that?” *points to a bag of cat food I’m lifting*

Daughter: “Kitty! Kitty!” *jumps up and down*

Friend: “Good! It’s food for the kitty. Kitties have to eat, too.”

Daughter: “Kitty!”

Me: *to a passing woman* “Hello.”

Woman: “Why is it out here?”

Me: “What?” *puts down cat food*

Woman: “The [disabled slur]! It needs to be put up!”

(My friend’s head snaps up so quickly and I see a certain hate in his eyes that scares me.)

Friend: “Listen here—”

Woman: “Why don’t you let your poor wife deal with it? Lord knows she’s probably brain dead if she wanted to keep it.”

(I grab my friend’s daughter and immediately take her with me as I get a manager in hope they can diffuse the situation while keeping [Daughter] away from it. I return with the manager to find that the woman is near tears and my friend is red in the face from anger.)

Me: “Uh… Should I take [Daughter] away again?”

Friend: “No. We’re leaving.”

(He walks out quickly and I hesitate before following.)

Daughter: “Dada! Lady sad.”

Friend: “I know.”

Daughter: “Why, Dada?”

Friend: “I got onto her like [My Name] does when his sister is being mean. The lady was very mean and said some bad stuff. So I got onto her.”

Me: “What did you say to her?”

Friend: “Don’t worry about it. She won’t be insulting innocent children anymore, though.”

(I was both terrified and respectful of my friend after that. The look in his eyes when the woman called [Daughter] a hurtful slur for a disabled person was enough to make me know that [Friend] is not to be messed with.)

Guys And Dollies

, , , , , , | Friendly | September 7, 2018

(I work in a vet’s office. My coworker Meredith and I have been friends since we were small children. She is not, and never has been, a feminine woman. She has short, spiked hair and almost no curves on her body, and could without much effort pass as a teenage boy. I work the front desk and she works in the exam rooms, so I am used to clients checking out and saying things like, “That young man in the room was so nice,” or, “Tell the doctor that I loved the way that gentleman handled my cat.” Meredith knows they don’t mean anything by it, so she says to not bother correcting them. If they ask directly something like, “What was that nice man’s name?” I won’t lie, because I enjoy the looks on people’s faces. One day we have a new client come in, and on his way out we have the following conversation.)

Client: “Hey, that ‘girl’–” *he actually does air quotes* “–in the room, what was ‘her’ name?”

Me: “You mean Meredith?”

Client: “Yeah, ‘Meredith.’ Is that the legal name, or just what you call ‘her’?”

Me: “Legal.”

Client: “So ‘she’ had it changed then?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: *turns to his wife* “See? I told you; I can always spot them. That one wasn’t even all that hard.”

Me: *interjects* “It was Dolly.”

Client: “What?”

Me: “The name on her birth certificate is Dolly. But she said that made it hard to be taken seriously, so she had it legally changed about ten years ago.”

(The man turned multiple shades of red and stormed off, while his wife started laughing.)

Don’t N-able That Word

, , , , , | Working | September 7, 2018

(One of my first days working at a pizzeria, I take a pickup order over the phone. All is normal until I ask his name.)

Me: “Okay, and your name, please?”

Customer: “Yeah, it’s N****r.”

Me: “Uh, sorry? What was that?”

Customer: “It’s N****r.”

Me: *thinking I’ve misheard* “And can you spell that, please?”

Customer: “Ah, just put [Customer]. You must be new, eh?”

Me: “Yes, sir, I am. Your order will be ready in about 25 minutes.”

(A half-hour later, a man walks in the front door. The restaurant manager sees him, walks to the front, and yells:)

Manager: “HEY, N****R! What’s going on?!”

(I am shocked and mortified, and then they both start laughing.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], this is N****r. We’ve called him that since he was a kid because in the summer he would tan so dark he looked like a—”

Me: “—please don’t say that word again. There are children and people of other races in the dining room.”

Manager: “We’ve been calling him that for nearly forty years. Nobody ever got upset. Just relax.”

(Thankfully, I was able to move on to a much better job in my chosen field, while the restaurant was sold and reopened with new owners and new management.)

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