I am a young woman in college. I work in a large bookstore that has a coffee shop. I am on my break, having a coffee and reading a college textbook. One of the customers I have served in the past comes over to me and sees the books.

Customer: “Now, what does a pretty young thing like you need with all that math?”

Me: “It’s my college major, and I would appreciate you not calling me a ‘pretty young thing.'”

Customer: “I’m just calling it how I see it, darlin’. Pretty young girls like you don’t need college.”

Me: “If it gets me a better job and away from people like you, then I do need it.”

The customer just stares at me, obviously not expecting my retaliation.

Me: “I’m just calling it how I see it, darlin’.” 

He complained, but my manager said I was off the clock so I was effectively just another customer at that time.

I have dwarfism, and this often leads to weird interactions in public, especially with kids. Sometimes a kid comes up to me to ask me why I’m so short, and I have a prepared response for that, but most of the time, they just loudly ask their parents why I’m so short. Usually, the parents will awkwardly drag their kids away, telling them not to comment on people in public, which is sad but understandable. I like the parents who just say something about how some people are born like this, and even though we look a bit different, we’re still regular people just like everyone else. Sometimes I hear a gem like, “I bet he shrank in the wash.”

What I can’t stand is when people try to use me to parent their kids. I’m sure you can think of ways to convince your kids to finish their plate at dinner that don’t involve pointing at a dwarf in public and saying, “That’s what happens when you leave food on your plate,” or, “He didn’t listen to his mommy when she told him to eat all his vegetables.” It’s rude, it’s humiliating, and it teaches your kid that differences are a bad thing and that people are at fault for their differences or disabilities. It just pisses me off.

A few days ago, I was in public and a kid who was maybe four or five years old was acting out, and his mom was clearly struggling to keep him under control. She pointed to me.

Woman: “That’s one of Santa’s elves. He’s watching you, and he’ll tell Santa about your behavior.”

The kid’s name was on a key ring on his backpack.

Me: “It’s okay, [Kid]. You’re already on the nice list, and Santa told me you’re getting an iPad this Christmas.”

The kid was excited. His mom was not.

Every Christmas, our news station is sponsored by the local botanical garden. We have these beautiful red poinsettias around the anchor desk. I have been working for about a year in production and this is my first full-time job. Not only am I one of two women in the department but I’m currently the only one in this office.

Boss: “So, once again, we have poinsettias, and they will need to be watered every other day. Usually, the newbie has to water them, so [My Name], you’ll be the Water B**** this year.”

I stare at him in shock. Until that moment (and since that moment), I had never been called a b**** at work. And never Water B****. I could tell he was used to saying it every year but didn’t realize it could be offensive to a woman.

Boss: *Embarrassed* “Um… that’s what we call them every year…”

Unsurprisingly, that wasn’t the only moment of misogyny from him. Go figure…

I am working in a courier store, and we have several employees working with customers, me included. My coworkers have smaller lines than I do, but I notice a very old customer come in and purposefully get in my line.

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, I am dealing with a complicated order at the moment, so you’ll likely be served quicker by one of my coworkers.”

Customer: “I’m in the line I need to be in.”

Ominous, but okay. The customer finally gets to me, and I start processing her delivery.

Customer: “You really need to have more local people working here so I don’t have to wait so long.”

Me: “Local?”

Customer: “Yes! Local people, like you! White people!”

Wow.

Yes, she actually said that. She got in my line because I am the only white employee working the counters today.

Me: “Well, ma’am, I’m actually not local. I’m from Germany and I moved here—”

Customer: “What?! You’re a German?!”

Me: “I moved here fifteen years ago, but I’m not local so—”

Customer: “This is unacceptable. I should be able to come here and be served by an American! You’re lying to the American people by just standing there making us think you’re one of us!”

I have heard of these kinds of people, but I never thought they were real.

Me: “I’m not lying to anyone, ma’am. I am simply working my job like everyone else. However, if you’re set on being served by someone born in the USA, that is literally everyone else here except for me.”

The customer looks around at my mostly Asian and Black coworkers and realizes she has put herself into a racist bind.

Customer: “No one here is a local!”

My manager, who is Asian, interjects.

Manager: “Ma’am, just say you’re a racist bigot instead of using the word ‘local’. You’re not welcome here.”

Customer: “This is America, and I demand to be served by an American!”

Manager: “I am an American, and I am refusing you service.”

Customer: “What is this country coming to?! When I was younger, everyone was local to this country!”

Manager: “Ma’am, when you were younger this was a colony, not a country. Go away.”

The customer huffed but finally left. Ageist? Maybe. Hilarious? Definitely.

My husband and I recently quietly divorced, but we have agreed to remain friends and co-parent our teenage child.

At the next Christmas dinner, my hyper-religious aunt waits until everyone is seated to ask why we aren’t wearing our wedding rings. Our son looks uncomfortable and I am ready to slap her into next week, but [Ex-Husband] puts his hand over mine and squeezes gently.

Ex-Husband: “We don’t want to.”

Aunt: “Why?”

Ex-Husband: “Because we choose not to.”

Aunt: “But why? Unless you divorced and didn’t tell anyone, you should wear your rings!”

She gives me a triumphant look as if she has caught me in some big lie and she is just waiting for me to confess. We have told people; we just haven’t made a big deal out of it given the reason for our divorce. [Ex-Husband] has a death grip on my fist now, willing me to be quiet and still.

Ex-Husband: “We did divorce, [Aunt].”

Aunt: “Sinners! You know our Lord and Savior does not allow divorce!”

I laugh.

Aunt: *In an over-dramatic tone* “How can you be laughing? Why would you stray so far from the Lord? A divorce! What could be so bad that you could not mend your marriage?”

Ex-Husband: “Well, we both like men.” *Looks down the table* “Can somebody pass the cranberry sauce?”

[Aunt] looked like she would faint on the spot. The meal carried on with [Aunt] glaring at us every once in a while. She hasn’t said a word to me or [Ex-Husband] in years. Honestly, it’s quite nice.