(I work the cash register and bakery in a restaurant in my town. We have an older couple who comes in every Sunday and sometimes other days. We all know them by name and they are usually friendly but can get mean if something is wrong. They have been sitting and eating for about an hour. The restaurant isn’t busy, and I am standing by the registers with a coworker. I am a larger, openly gay man in my 20s, and she is a tiny girl, just graduating from high school. The wife comes up to us.)

Customer: “Hello, [Coworker] and [My Name]! I just wanted to ask you, are either of you married?”

Coworker: “No, ma’am! It is too early for that!”

Me: “Yeah, I’m only twenty and she’s only eighteen.”

Customer: “Well, I think you two would have a lot of fun with each other!” *winks at us*

(She has said this before, and I am getting annoyed, so I try to let her know I am gay.)

Me: “Oh, ma’am, I have a boyfriend.”

Customer: “Oh, really? That’s sad. Well, [My Name], come here.”

(I lean in and she whispers in my ear.)

Customer: “I just wanted to let you know that it’s not if, it’s when.”

Me: *thinking that she’s talking about gay marriage* “Oh, okay!”

Customer: “AIDS.”

Me: “What did you just say?”

Customer: “AIDS. You’re going to get it.”

(I was so appalled that I walked directly back to the general manager and let her know about the situation. She immediately walked up to the front and let the customers know that they are not welcome in our cafe ever again.)

(I go to a pet store to purchase some food for my pet bird. I am describing my lovebird, who happens to be a blue mutation, black-masked lovebird. When I describe him, I say he has a “black face, white collar, blue body, and a purple spot on his tail.” Some lady — who happens to be holding the leash of a black lab — gives a massive gasp, does the pearl-clutching gesture, and proceeds to lecture me:)

Woman: “Don’t say… that term! That’s racist! How can you be in public when you use that language?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I was talking to the cashier who inquired about my bird food purchase. I have a lovebird. I was describing his colors to her.”

Woman: “And you responded with a racist slur?!”

Me: “No… I didn’t. He is a black-masked lovebird. That’s literally his species. I said he has a black face.”

Woman: “You can’t say that!”

Me: “I just did.”

Woman: “Hasn’t your mother taught you to have respect for other ethnicities? That’s racist!”

Me: “Ma’am, there’s a difference between putting on makeup to offensively portray an ethnicity and using a similar term as a physical description for an animal.”

Woman: “There is no way to use… that term… inoffensively!”

Me: “Okay, I’m done trying to educate you.”

Woman: “You can’t ‘educate’ someone by claiming that racial terms are okay!”

Me: “Look, lady, I’m buying food for my bird. Buy the dog food for your black lab–” *she gasps again and looks outraged* “–and leave me alone.”

Woman: “You’re doing it again! Don’t call him a ‘black’ lab! Call him a ‘dark lab’!”

(I just rolled my eyes and walked away. I don’t understand this mentality.)

(I’ve just started a new job for a company that represents various progressive non-profit groups. The two clients our office oversees are an environmental organization and an LGBT organization. Although I’ve had other positions where I’ve overseen staff before, I need to be trained on how the company conducts interviews by a coworker who has been there for a while. The coworker training me during this interview happens to be a lesbian. We have just finished basic work history questions with this applicant.)

Coworker: “We are currently working on behalf of [Environmental Organization] and [LGBT Organization]. We have enough openings right now to assign you to your preferred group but may need you to work with the other if the need arises.”

Applicant: “Well, I’d love to work on [Environmental Organization]. I’m not all that cool with that queer stuff.”

Coworker: “Well…”

Applicant: “It’s like, no one made them be gay; that was their decision, which is fine and all, but that doesn’t mean you get special rights, you know?”

Coworker: “Um…”

Applicant: “They think they deserve to marry each other and all, but like, if I get married that makes my marriage mean less, you know? Plus, if they really want benefits so bad or whatever, then a queer guy should just marry, like, a queer chick or something, right?”

(I notice my coworker is biting her lip, ready to go off on the guy, so I step in.)

Me: “Well, that’s all the questions I think we have. We will be in touch if we decide to bring you on.”

Applicant: “Great! I really look forward to working here. This place seems great!”

(My coworker thanked me afterward for stepping in at that point as she likely couldn’t have handled it professionally. How that guy still seemed to think he was going to get hired was beyond either of us.)

This story is part of the Bad Interviews roundup!

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(I work in the accounting office in an apartment building. I also handle parking. I’ve recently assigned a spot to a tenant. Note that I’m fairly new to this location and I’m female.)

Tenant: “I don’t like this spot. It’s too far from my building.”

Me: “I understand, but this is the closest spot available until someone moves out.”

Tenant: “But I want to be closer. I know exactly what spot I want. It’s [number].”

Me: “That spot is currently being rented by someone else.”

Tenant: “But I want it. It’s always empty when I look.”

Me: “They can rent it and not park there. It’s their money and their right. Or maybe they’re at work.”

Tenant: “Let me explain it to you another way.” *grabs a pen and paper off my desk* “Since you’re new, this may help.” *draws a rough map of the site layout and points to the spot he wants and where he is* “We’re in this building. I live here. I’m parked here. I want this spot.” *sits back with a smile as if he’s explained the universe to me*

Me: “Did you just mansplain my job to me?”

Tenant: “I… Well… A map…”

Me: “…does not change that [number] is currently being rented. Do you want to call them and tell them that you want [number]? I can arrange that meeting if you want.”

Tenant: “No, I just want it.”

Me: “No. You’ve mansplained it to me, as if I’d say yes now, and don’t understand that it’s unavailable.”

Tenant: “Will you call me when it’s available?”

(Apparently, my real feelings showed on my face, because he left quickly after that.)

(I’m on WIC — the Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children — and I’m checking out in front of an older man and a couple of teen boys. I tell the cashier I’m using one of the checks, and the older man groans.)

Older Man: “Ugh, why can’t you sluts just keep your legs closed? I don’t want my tax money paying for some welfare babies!”

Me: “Sir, I just want to get food and go home.”

Older Man: “To your sugar daddy’s house? Does he have some mansion up in the mountains or something?”

Me: “No, I’m in [Trailer Park] right now. That’s all we can afford.”

Older Man: “F****** trailer trash, I should have known!”

(The teenage boy behind him finally gets tired and taps him on the shoulder.)

Teen: “Look, sir, that poor girl already told you that she doesn’t want to hear this, and I’m pretty tired of it, too. Plus, she’s probably stressed out enough, being pregnant and having to rely on government assistance. So, how about you leave her alone for a bit?”

Older Man: “Well, all these kids today, being rude!” *storms off*

(The teen ended up buying me a couple of candy bars and told me that I shouldn’t worry about people like the older man.)