I’m not sure what’s relevant or not to this story, but in case it’s relevant, I am a big guy; I am about 6’6″ and rather muscular. I work outside all day, so while I am white, I’m pretty darkly tanned, so sometimes people mistake me for different ethnicities. 

My wife and I recently moved into a new apartment. One Saturday morning, she leaves to go run some errands for a few hours, so I am home alone doing some odds-and-ends chores. I leave my apartment to go downstairs and collect our mail only to find it hasn’t been delivered yet, and when I return, I realize I have locked myself out. I guess the coffee hasn’t kicked in because I didn’t grab my keys, and because I was just going to the mailbox, I have no wallet, phone, or anything else.

I decide to sit down in the hallway and wait for my wife to come back. While I’m sitting there, after about fifteen minutes, the apartment manager from the new management company comes by. I have never met him before. 

Manager: “Hey, uh, can I help you?” 

Me: “Not really. I locked myself out, so I’m just waiting for my wife to get back.”

Manager: “Well, you sitting in the hallway is making some people uncomfortable.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m not bothering anyone, and I don’t have any way to contact my wife to meet somewhere, so I’m just waiting here quietly.” 

Manager: “Look. We’ve gotten a number of complaints, and I really need you out of the hallway. How about this?” 

He goes to unlock the apartment door. 

Me: “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you going to unlock the apartment?” 

Manager: “Well, yeah. You said you were locked out. This way, you get out of the hallway, and people stop complaining.”

Me: “I haven’t shown you any ID or any records of any kind. Heck, I don’t even have a piece of mail with the address on it. Would you really let anyone into the apartment just because they said they lived there?”

Manager: “…”

After that, he just left. Once my wife got home, she let me in, and between the overly-trusting apartment manager and the under-trusting neighbors, I think we will be starting the apartment hunt again.

I am working with a coworker, and we’re both experiencing a couple of blessed minutes of downtime. We’re both big anime fans, so we’re chatting about the recent episodes of a show we’re both watching, “Attack On Titan”. The show is known for being quite intense and putting its characters through a lot.

Me: “Can you believe everything that they’ve been putting up with this season?”

Coworker: “I know! I keep saying, ‘We just can’t catch a break!'”

As we’re talking, an older customer is walking past and is glaring at us.

Customer: “That’s the problem with your generation! Always complaining about how hard you’ve got it! You always need little breaks! I don’t know what you think you’ve got to complain about, but back in my day, we just got on with it and didn’t expect a pat on the back for the privilege.”

Coworker: “Oh, sir, we weren’t complaining about our jobs. We’re just talking about a show we watch where the characters have to endure a lot, and we were feeling sorry for them.”

Customer: “Let me guess. They’re struggling because they have to work a full eight hours and they’ve run out of mental health days?” 

Coworker: “No, they have to fight man-eating giants who have just consumed all their friends and family in increasingly violent and disturbing ways.”

Customer: “Hmph! Sounds stupid! Back in my day, shows were about real things! Starsky & Hutch! Hawaii Five-O! And the real one, not that new one where everyone is Asian!”

Me: “Sir, did you need help with anything in the store?”

Customer: “No! I can do it myself! You should all just stop moaning!”

Coworker: “We will… try, sir.”

And off he went, looking for new things to grumble about.

I am a manager making my way between departments in our department store. A customer stops me and pulls me aside.

Customer: “Could you please tell me why you’re allowing [N-words] to be parading around the store with their pants down?”

Me: “Sir, your word choice is beyond unacceptable.”

Customer: “Calm down! I wasn’t saying it to them! But aren’t you going to do anything? We can all see their underwear!” 

Me: “I’m not the customer dress code police, and I don’t intend to start being one.”

Old Man: “Why do you hate your own race?”

Well, that came out of nowhere! I stare directly at the customer and make intense eye contact.

Me: “No, it’s race-ists. I hate racists!”

Old Man: *Pauses* “This whole country is becoming a joke!” *Power-walks away*

Customer: “I want you to make my coffee for me.” 

Me: “I’m just taking the orders for today, sir.”

Customer: “No. I want you to make it. I don’t trust those other guys. I was in Afghanistan, and I don’t trust Arabs to make my coffee.”

I try to ignore how wrong all of that was.

Me: “Well, they all make a decent cup of coffee, sir, I assure you.”

Customer: “Fine… but you’d better be making them tomorrow.”

Me: *Just trying to move this along* “I will try, sir.”

Customer: “It’s so bad in America these days. They’re everywhere. I saw online yesterday that they started teaching Arabic numbers in schools! That’s crazy!”

I’m selling art by local artists, and one of my larger pieces is an interpretation of Adam and Eve. I grew up in a very strict religious household and was able to escape that particular religion. As a result, my Bible knowledge is quite strong. Also, as the owner of my own market stall, I can be honest with customers who irk me.

Customer: “Why are they Black?” 

Me: “Because the artist chose to interpret them as Black. But to be fair, it’s a pretty fair interpretation considering where most events in the Bible took place.”

Customer: “But that’s blasphemous! Adam and Eve weren’t Black!” 

Me: “What were they, then?”

Customer: “Well…”

Me: “You think they were white?”

Customer: “All the pictures I’ve seen of them they’re white!”

Me: “You mean paintings? As in artist interpretations? Like this one?”

Customer: “But they weren’t African!”

Me: “They weren’t European, either. And it’s the general consensus that all of humanity originated from Africa anyway.” 

Customer: “You mean that evolution bulls***? No. I’m gonna stick with the Holy Bible on this.”

Me: “So, you’re going with the Garden of Eden? Which was located near the Tigris and Euphrates River? So, the Middle East? Yes, lots of white people from there.”

Customer: “I thought you were trying to sell this painting?” 

Me: “Were you ever going to buy it?”

Customer: “Adam and Eve weren’t Black!” *Storms off* 

The painting was eventually sold to a church for their Sunday school! I hope that the next generation of Christians does better.