Many, many years ago, I worked half a shift at a bar in northern Wisconsin before I found out it was a local meeting spot for the scariest group of extreme racists that may or may not have been part of a three-letter hate group.

They’d take over half the seats in the house, get loudly drunk, and then wander off in all directions. The place looked respectable on the outside, so I never expected it to be such a nightmare.

On my first day, I arrived shortly after most of them were already a few drinks in.

One of them staggered over to the bar.

Me: “Hello! What can I pour for you?”

Racist: “We’ll see, but firsht, ya gotta answer me a queshion.”

From the way he was slurring, I was already wondering if my first task on my first shift would be to cut off a belligerent drunk and convince them to drink some water or eat some food.

Me: “Well, I’m new, but I can probably tell you what’s in just about any drink we serve.”

Racist: “Naw, naw, thassss…”

The word ended in a hiss, and he slowly tilted to the left before righting himself.

Racist: “…not what I wanna ashk. I just wanna know…” 

At this point, he went from slurring in a conversational tone to bellowing at the top of his lungs.

Racist: “AIN’T YEW GLAD YEW AIN’T A [N-WORD]?!”

And in that instant, half the bar swiveled their heads, and they all stared straight at me, waiting for my answer.

Until that moment, I’d only ever heard of people saying their insides went cold, but I would’ve sworn I’d just swallowed an entire bucket of ice. With red flags waving and klaxons screaming inside my head, I put on my most agreeable expression and nodded to him. Then, I politely excused myself, told my boss that I was out, and left. My boss just shrugged and said maybe I wasn’t a good fit.

In the decades since, I have never encountered a workplace like that, and I hope I never will again.

I was in charge of Public Relations for a large IT company, and as a result, I had to handle an American executive as we did press interviews in six different European countries in five days. The main problem was that I was with an American who hated Europe. He was grumpy because there was no jogging track around the Eiffel Tower and because no UK journalists wanted to meet him for breakfast meetings at 6:00 am. In Paris, he insisted we eat dinner at an Angus Steak House.

At the departure lounge in the Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris, he went into total meltdown.

Client: “I can’t stand all these French people smoking. Make them stop.”

Me: “Yeah, good one.”

Client: “I’m serious. Go over there and tell them to stop smoking. Now.”

I walked over to the group of French students who were chain-smoking Gitanes and asked them if they knew the time. I went back to the client and told him they had said, “Go forth and multiply.”

I live in France, and I’m a native French speaker, but I can speak English quite fluently. I also took German when I was in high school and college, and I remember some of it.

I’m hanging out at my home, and I get a phone call.

Me: “Allo?”

Scammer: “Hello! Do you speak English?”

He speaks with a strong accent I cannot identify, and he sounds awkward, like English is definitely not his mother language.

Me: “Yes?”

Scammer: “This is Microsoft. There are three dangerous viruses on your computer, and I’m here to help you get rid of them.”

This is an obvious scam attempt. I could just hang up, but I decide to play with him instead.

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t speak English. I really, really don’t speak a single word in English, so I guess I cannot help you.”

Scammer: “You’re telling me that you don’t speak English, in English.”

Me: “Yes!”

Scammer: “There’s a problem with your computer. Whenever you use Google, it attracts dangerous programs, and you need to get rid of them.”

Me: “But I don’t have a computer!”

Scammer: “Are you Mrs. [Not My Name]?”

Me: “No, and I don’t speak English at all!”

He hangs up. I shrug it off and start going about my business again. Then, the phone rings again and it’s him. I decide to answer in German until he hangs up.

Me: “Hello!”

Scammer: “Hello. I need your phone number to help you get rid of this virus.”

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Scammer: “What are you saying?”

Me: “I don’t understand. I only speak German.”

Scammer: “I don’t understand. Speak English.”

This goes on, and then I hang up. One minute later, guess who phones again? This time, I answer in French.

Scammer: “This is Microsoft. Are you Mrs. [Not My Name]?”

Me: “No, I’m not Mrs. [Not My Name]. Would you like me to sing you a song?”

Scammer: “I don’t understand what you’re saying. There’s a problem with your computer.”

I sing something and go about my business again. He has hung up when I come back. I think I’ve gotten rid of him, but then he phones again. This time, I answer in English.

Scammer: “You have a virus on your computer. Please, give me your phone number.”

Me: “Why would I do that? I’m a married person, and I will never, ever cheat on my wife!”

Scammer: “Your wife or your husband?”

Me: “My wife! She’s beautiful!”

This is a lie as I’m a happily single lady. However, this seems to trigger the scammer.

Scammer: “This is wrong! Really wrong! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

He hung up and never called again. This scammer was stoic no matter how silly I acted, but the single idea of interacting with an LGBT person was enough to make him run away. This is a very sad way to win the war against telemarketers.

I am a waiter in a restaurant where every table gets a free loaf of bread to share. One busy night, we are running out of fresh bread and only have a couple of loaves left. I exclaim:

Me: “Quick, someone call Jesus!”

One of the waitresses storms off in a huff.

Waitress: “How dare you use my Savior for a joke?!”

She complains to the manager and says she can’t finish her shift because of a hostile work environment. Later, when the shift has calmed down, I am called into the office and told to “not make religious jokes” anymore. I agree and think that will be it.

A few days later, I’m discussing my weekend with another coworker. [Waitress] walks past as I say:

Me: “Yeah, it was a crazy bar mitzvah. I’m not Jewish or anything, but man, those guys know how to throw a party!

[Waitress] suddenly turns toward us.

Waitress: “You just can’t go a day without being so offensive, can you?!”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Waitress: “First you curse out my Lord, and now you’re shouting about how you party with his oppressors! And I bet you timed that comment for when I walked past just to rub it in!”

Me: “I think you’re overthinking this—”

Nope. She’s out again. She can’t finish the shift due to “a hostile work environment and religious persecution”. Once again, I’m in front of the manager in his office.

Manager: “So, apparently, you were being all ‘Jewwy’ in her face.”

Me: “Wow, she said that?”

Manager: “Yes.”

Me: “How can she be so sensitive and easily offended and think it’s okay to say something like that?”

Manager: “Yeah, I’m not sure what we’re going to do about her, but maybe just don’t say anything around her that’s not work-related until we can figure it out, okay?”

Me: “Sorry, but no. I work with friends here, and I understand not cracking Jesus jokes, but I am allowed to discuss my weekends in a polite and inoffensive manner.”

Manager: “Look, just be tolerant until—”

Me: “Tolerant? Actually, no. I’ll be just like her. She referred to my Jewish friends in an offensive manner. That is creating a toxic and discriminatory workplace environment, and I simply need to go home right this instant to calm down.”

Manager: “I see what you’re doing, but—”

Me: “But nothing. Either she stops being so offended by every little thing, or I don’t come back in. Not worth it.”

I kept the job. [Waitress] stuck around another week but eventually quit when it all became “too much” for her.

I am a waiter. Our name tags have our names on them, but they also have the flag of our home countries; I live in a very international part of the country and our staff are from all over. Since I’m USA-born and raised, I just have the USA flag on my pin, but I also have the Pride flag.

I am about to serve a group of women

Customer: “I would like to be served by someone else.”

Me: “We’re pretty busy today, ma’am, and I can’t swap my tables out with other waitstaff. I’ll be more than happy to help you—”

Customer: “Let me make this clear. I will not be served by anyone who is L, G, B, or T. Understood? Get me another waiter or get me your manager.”

I sigh and go fetch my manager, explaining why they’ve been summoned on a super busy Sunday afternoon.

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t make staff changes to make bigots comfortable.”

Customer: “Who are you calling a bigot?!”

Manager: “You, ma’am. You’re acting bigoted.”

Customer: “I’m not a bigot! I just have a strong core belief!”

Manager: *Checking his phone and reading from it* “‘Bigot: a person who is obstinately or unreasonably attached to a belief, opinion, or faction, especially one who is prejudiced against or antagonistic toward a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular group.'”

Customer: “Gay people aren’t members of a group!”

Manager: “You literally just singled out my waiter because of your perception of his sexual orientation. You just put him in a group that you are behaving prejudiced against. I also have a prejudice: against bigots. Please leave. We don’t serve bigots here.”

The customer stands up, the other women following suit.

Customer: “Fine, but you just lost a lot of business today!”

Manager: “Look around. We have people waiting out the door. We’ll be fine. Go eat somewhere more hateful.” 

And with that, they all strutted out like they had won or something. The customers that replaced them were actual human beings!

This story is part of the Editors’-Favorite-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

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