(I’m the first in my mother’s family to attend university, and everyone is very proud of me… except for one person, apparently. I find this out when I visit my aunt and uncle one day and find my aunt looking torn between frustration and laughter.)

Me: “Hey, what’s the matter?”

Aunt: “I just got back from visiting [Great Aunt who lives in a nursing home and is experiencing the onset of dementia]. I told her you were going to university, and you know what she said?”

Me: *wondering if I want to know* “No, what was it?”

Aunt: “She said, ‘Why does [My Name] have to go to university? Why can’t she just work behind the cash register like a normal girl?'”

(Not that there’s anything wrong with working in retail, but “like a normal girl”? Gee, thanks, Auntie!)

(I am female and I work at a major home improvement store in the paint department. My manager is mixing paint for a male guest as a lady approaches the desk.)

Customer: *carrying two adhesives* “So, I need an adhesive that will work for [project].” *holds out items to me while looking at male guest* “Are these what I want?”

Me: “Yes, that will work perfectly for [project].”

Customer: *doesn’t respond but continues to stare at male guest*

Male Guest: *looks at me then back at the lady, then nods his head uncomfortably in agreement with me*

Customer: *returns attention to me* “Thanks, I guess.” *walks away*

Manager: “Did she really just ask the male guest whether or not [adhesive] will work instead of asking you?”

Me: “Yep! Welcome to being a young female in home improvement!”

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries

(My department is on a conference call using a well-known business software allowing video feeds. The meeting has been going for about half an hour.)

Colleague: *interrupting* “Don’t you find it funny how I’m the only woman in this group and my face is never shown when I’m talking? It looks pretty misogynistic if you ask me.”

(There’s an awkward silence.)

Me: “Umm, your face should be in the bottom right of the window.”

Colleague: “What?”

Me: “Yeah, your face doesn’t appear in the window when you’re talking because it’s always there. You appear on everyone else’s though.”

Colleague: “No, that’s total BS—”

(Another colleague sends a screenshot in the chat log, showing her face, full screen, with the colleague’s face in miniature in the bottom right.)

Colleague: “Oh, yes. I am there…”

(Another awkward silence follows.)

Other Colleague: “Shall we continue?”

Department Manager: “In a moment. For the record, I’m a woman. Shocking, I know. I’m calling in on my phone so you won’t be able to see me. Perhaps we should focus on the meeting instead of whether you’re on everyone’s screen? Please, continue.”

Other Colleague: *continues where he left off*

(I’m in line at the supermarket at the main railway station and it’s packed; the lines reach the aisles easily. An old lady is queuing at the beginning of one the aisles with a little private shopping trolley beside her. I’m in the queue next to her. A young woman comes up to her; she wants to get past her, but with her trolley beside her she pretty much blocks the space, though she would just need to put the trolley in front of her to make room to pass.)

Young Woman: *politely* “Excuse me? Sorry? Could you move your trolley a bit?”

(The old lady pointedly looks at the woman and then turns away, not moving.)

Young Woman: “Excuse me. You are blocking the way; please move your trolley.”

Old Lady: “I’m standing here; just go back around the aisle if you need to.”

Young Woman: “Why should I? You could just move and let me through.”

Old Lady: “What are you, too lazy? Get lost!”

(Everybody is watching the free entertainment and wants to see how this goes down. But, it seems that the smarter person gives in. The young woman huffs but lets it go to walk back to the aisle. The old lady THEN scoots forward as the line moves, and grumbles under her breath. Suddenly, the young man ahead of her speaks up rather loudly.)

Young Man: “Did you just call her a b****?!”

Old Lady: “That’s none of your business!”

Young Man: “Oh, it definitely is; that was my wife!”

(It’s like in a western when the big baddie enters the saloon. Everybody is all ears, the beeping of the cashier is slowed down to an absentminded slow pace. Fittingly, the young woman just comes up from her detour and gets into the obviously close one-armed embrace of the man. He gives the old lady a stern look, and she gets out of line to slouch back into the aisle with her head down. As I am paying, I notice the old lady talking to security close to the checkout. She seems rather agitated and points at the checkout with the couple, who are just getting to pay. I deliberately take my time to put away my stuff; this I want to see, like everybody else. The security guy talks in his mic and listens to his earpiece a bit. He nods to whatever he says and makes an inviting gesture to the old lady towards the checkout with the couple. Her look is triumphant and as they both get near the checkout, she confidently yells:)

Old Lady: “There they are, the [German Racial Slur]s who attacked me!”

(Everybody is silent and listening, no beeps of scanned products are heard. The security guy then cooly says:)

Security: “There are two ways to handle this right now. Either you apologise to these two nice people and I just ask you to leave on your own, or we call the police to help you find the right words and the door.”

(The old lady’s face at the realisation of her plan failing publicly is a show I would pay money for; so many colours, indeed. She looked at the security guy and then at the couple. After some seconds, she pressed out something that sounded enough like “sorry” and then flew from the store.)

(We’ve just finished watching a movie that had a main cast that was nearly all white. At the end of the movie, the main character says, “We can save the future, but we’ll need help.” They recruit people across the globe. None of the recruits are white.)

Dad: “I guess they don’t want white people in their future, huh?”

Me: *headdesks*