(I am at a used car market which is basically a free-for-all, buy-at-your-own-risk affair. I am an ethnic Chinese woman, and it looks like there are no other people of East Asian descent or women shopping alone. This is a collection of some of the characters.)

Me: “Can I start the car and see how it runs?”

Old White Guy: “Why?”

(Another instance:)

Me: “Would you take R55,000 for this?”

Guy: “No, but can I have your number?”

(Another instance:)

Old Indian Guy: “My son is a dealer. I’ll give you his address. Don’t buy cars from black guys; a lot of them are stolen.”

(Another instance:)

(The reaction of multiple guys when I ask about maintenance issues:)

Them: “Do you have a husband/brother/father at home?”

(Another instance:)

Young Indian Guy: “Hey! Over here! I have the perfect car for you!” *points at a tiny, ugly, subcompact of an unfamiliar make I have to Google*

Me: “Do you think I’m going to buy some random China car just because I’m Chinese?”

(I’m working at a retail drug store that has a photo kiosk available for customers to come in and print photos from their phone. I am ringing up a line of customers when another customer calls me from the kiosk, yelling across the store.)

Customer: “Can I get some help, please?!”

Me: “Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll call up my manager, since I’m the only cashier today.”

Customer: *scoffs*

(I call up my manager, and can hear her trying to help the lady from several feet away.)

Manager: “Just plug your phone into the cords we have provided. That’s the simplest and fastest way to do this.”

Customer: “No! You’re going to steal all my information from my phone! I want to do this wirelessly!”

Manager: “Okay… the best way to do that is to do it as an online order, which may take up to an hour. We will be watching the kiosks, so as soon as the order comes through, we can print it instantly. However, as I said, it may take up to an hour for the order to come through. I highly recommend you plug the phone in, instead, as that will be much quicker.”

Customer: “I’m not using your cords. You’re trying to steal my credit card information! I’ll just do it as an online order.”

(The customer proceeds to put in an online order with her phone. Ten minutes later, her order has not yet come through, despite both my manager and I checking the kiosk repeatedly. My manager goes to the bathroom and is gone for a total of one minute and thirty seconds. During that time, the customer brings her four-year-old daughter up to me and screams:)

Customer: “If and when those photos finally come in, you can throw them out. I’m taking my business somewhere else. I’ve been waiting for these photos for thirty minutes! This is absolutely ridiculous! That [racial slur] of a manager promised me that they would be ready instantly. I’m leaving and never coming back!”

Me: “Ma’am, I heard her tell you that it could take up to an hour, and I heard you agree to this. Are you sure I can’t take a phone number and call you when they’re ready?”

Customer: “No! Throw them out. I’m going elsewhere.”

(As they are leaving her daughter turns around and says:)

Daughter: “We’re going to [Direct Competitor].”

(Her photos were ready seconds after she left. There were over 300 photos and we had to just throw them away.)

(It is toward the end of my shift, so I go out to empty the gaming machines to put the money through the tills. As I take the box containing the money, a regular customer comes over and starts a conversation. It should be noted that I have red hair.)

Customer: *jokingly* “Are you stealing all the money again?”

Me: “I wish it was mine to keep! Sadly, it’s on its way to the tills.”

Customer: “Oh, good. People are probably a bit suspicious of you.”

Me: “Why’s that?”

Customer: “You know how it is. Everyone knows that people who steal tend to be gingers or—“ *leans closer and whispers* “—black people.”

Me: *speechless*

(One day at the child care center where I work, I have a little boy come in with red fingernail polish on. Later that day, one of my male coworkers sees him and walks up to me.)

Coworker: “Who painted that child’s fingernails?”

Me: “His mom.”

Coworker: “Oh, my God.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “That poor kid doesn’t stand a chance.” *walks away*

(You’re a male working in childcare and you want to hold a three-year-old to traditional gender expectations?)

(I’m working in the floral section, stocking flowers for a holiday, when an older male customer approaches me. I’m female and carrying heavy-looking boxes.)

Customer: “You really shouldn’t be doing that.”

Me: *confused look*

Customer: “You should get a man to lift that for you.”

Me: “No, it’s fine. It’s not that heavy, anyway.”

Customer: “Really, you should get a man to do that. Women shouldn’t lift things. It makes it so you cannot bear children.”

Me: *laughs kind of awkwardly* “It’s really fine.”

Customer: *starting to get agitated* “I’m not joking. Lifting will make you unable to bear children!”

(Starting to get uncomfortable, I lay the box down as it’s in the area it needs to be anyway.)

Customer: *walking away muttering* “She really shouldn’t be doing that.”

(I have no idea why he thought any of that was a good idea to tell a complete stranger, but he just seemed really concerned for my wellbeing.)

This story is part of our International Women’s Day roundup!

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