Cheese Is Beautiful As It Comes In All Colors

, , , , , | Right | January 13, 2019

(It was my first week working in the deli of a local grocery store. Things were going fine with no retail horror story occurrences, until the day I met the man I call the Cheese Nazi.)

Customer: “I want a pound of American cheese, sliced thin.”

Me: “Sure thing! Do you want that white or yellow?”

Customer: *looking at me with disgust* “The only color an American SHOULD be… WHITE!”

Me: “Ohh… kay. White it is.”

(I slice his racially pure cheese, weigh it, and bag it.)

Customer: “A half-pound of the mustard potato salad, too.”

Me: “Sure thing. I can’t do anything about the color of this one, though.”

Customer: *grunts* “Whatever.”

(I dish up his potato salad, weigh it, label it, and almost put the lid on when he stops me.)

Customer: “Stop!”

(He picks out a larger chunk of potato that still had a bit of the dark brown peel on one side, and flicks it at me, bouncing it off my neck.)

Customer: “That one was the n*****.”

“Can” You Be Any More Obnoxious?

, , , , , , , | Learning | January 11, 2019

(I am a girl in seventh-grade shop class. My teacher is quite rude and we butt heads frequently. He’s especially rude about girls going to the bathroom and about our general competency around the class. I raise my hand.)

Teacher: “Yes?”

Me: “Can I go to the bathroom?”

Teacher: *smirking* “I don’t know. Can you?”

Me: “Actually, I was using the secondary definition of ‘can’: to request permission. I thought that since you’re soooo smart you would know that.”

(I got locked out of the classroom for ten minutes when I came back from the bathroom.)

Not Making A Sweet(ie) Sale That Day

, , , , , | Working | January 10, 2019

(My husband and I are about to run out to do some errands. As I’m gathering my things together, the doorbell rings. It’s some grizzled-looking dude, perhaps a few years older than my 40-something husband, wearing a uniform polo and hawking Internet, cable, and phone service door-to-door. My husband decides to humor him and listen to his pitch on our front stoop while I get ready. Please note that I am also in my 40s and look it. I join them after a few minutes, and speak up at an appropriate break in the conversation.)

Me: *to my husband* “Ready to go?”

Salesman: *to husband* “That’s why [Internet service] is the best.” *to me, in what I can only describe as a “men are talking”-type condescending tone* “Hi, sweetie.”

Husband: *under his breath and with a smirk on his face* “Uh-oh.”

Me: *completely flabbergasted* “EXCUSE ME?”

(I don’t know what my face looks like just then, but the salesman blanches and starts to stammer.)

Salesman: “Uh… Um, thanks for humoring me.” *takes off down our stairs at a record pace without looking back*

Husband: *huge grin on his face* “Aaaaand that’s when he realized the steel trap had closed on his nuts.”

Just Plain Jane

, , , , | Right | January 10, 2019

(I am working at an international call center, which, though located in the middle of continental Europe, mostly receives calls from various places on the British Isles. Names in the story have been changed.)

Me: “Hello. My name’s Charlie; how can I help you?”

Caller: “What? You’re a woman!”

Me: “Yes, how can I help you, sir?”

Caller: “What was your name again?”

Me: “Charlie. Oh, I get the confusion. It’s short for Charlotte, sir.”

Caller: “That’s a man’s name! You’re a woman! You’re lying to me!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, sir. Now, how can I help you?”

Caller: “This is ridiculous! You’re trying to be a man. I demand to speak to your manager!”

(I sigh, but I ask the guy to wait while I go to get my supervisor. She has a very low voice that still sounds female in real life, but over the phone, it can sometimes sound a bit masculine. I’m sure everyone can see where this is going. I only hear the following because the guy is so loud it bleeds out of the headset.)

Supervisor: “Hello, sir, I’m the supervisor. My name’s Jane. How can I–“

Caller: “What is this?!”

Supervisor: “Sorry?”

Caller: “Where the f*** did I call?! You’re all liars!”

Supervisor: “I’m not sure I follow.”

Caller: “You’re a man!”

Supervisor: “Sir, my name’s Jane, and I’m the supervisor you asked for. How can I–“

Caller: “You are all f***** up! What is this bulls***!?”

Supervisor: “Sir, if you insult me or any employee one more time, I have to inform you that according to policy, I am allowed to hang up on you.”

Caller: “Shut the f*** up, you [gay slur]!”

(The supervisor hangs up, rolling her eyes, and summarizes him thusly:)

Supervisor: “Well, here’s one for the training team…”

The 1950s Called; They Want Their Medical Results

, , , , , , , | Friendly Healthy | January 10, 2019

(My husband is having a day-long series of medical tests at a Veterans Administration hospital in Kentucky. I drove him there, so I am camping out in the waiting room working on some homework on my laptop for the supply chain management courses I am taking online. I have been working for about an hour and a half when I am approached by an elderly man.)

Elderly Man: “What are you doing on that computer?”

Me: “I am a Transportation and Logistics Management student at [Well-Respected Online college]. I am working on the homework for my supply chain management courses.”

Elderly Man: “Why aren’t you going to nursing school?! Nursing is the only respectable occupation for a woman!”

Me: “What? I can’t qualify for nursing school because I had a stroke a few years ago and my right hand is partially paralyzed.”

(I hold up my right hand and show that I can only use my middle finger and thumb.)

Elderly Man: “But you could be a nurse if you tried harder! Why are you playing with that silly supply chain management stuff? Only men do that!”

Me: “I also have an active Class-A commercial driver’s license to drive tractor trailers.” *reaches into my purse to pull out my license* “I like transportation!”

Elderly Man: “But nurses are so sweet! You should be sweet like a nurse!” *motions to one of the VA nurses*

(The VA nurse chimes in:)

VA Nurse: “I wouldn’t want her as a nurse with that hand of hers. She would never pass nursing school, anyway. I have met [My Name] before, and that woman is planning on going to law school after she finishes her bachelor’s degree because of the way she has argued her husband’s VA disability claim.”

Elderly Man: “How disgraceful! A woman working as a truck driver and wanting to become a lawyer! Why can’t women be sweet and realize their place in the world?!”

(I put my earbuds on and cranked some Bon Jovi on my laptop and tried to ignore the old coot until he was called for his appointment.)

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