When I was young, I worked as a secretary in a firm where the management was all male. The non-management staff was about fifty-fifty male and female. 

In the coffee room, there was a rota on the wall showing which female employee’s turn it was to clean the coffee room up at the end of the day, make the coffee, etc.

My (male) boss showed up to put my name on the rota.

Me: “Oh, don’t bother adding my name to the rota. I’m not going to do it.”

Boss: “Everyone gets a turn, [My Name]. You don’t get to act special.”

Me: “Really? Because I don’t see a single man’s name on this rota. The men use the coffee room, too. Why don’t they have to take turns cleaning it up?”

My boss abruptly fumbled a bit and gave me a sideways glance. I was staring straight back into his eyes. Slowly, I crossed my arms and gave my head a little tilt, giving him a shark-like grin.

Me: “Why are only the women on this list, [Boss]? Could you kindly explain to me in simple words? Or maybe Human Resources would like to explain it?”

[Boss] pursed his lips, took down the rota, and left without a word. It came back with alternating men’s and women’s names. This lasted less than a day, as there was an immediate kerfluffle.

The men were indignant! Why did THEY have to do “women’s work”?! The rota before was just fine! Women could do it! They LIKED doing stuff like that, didn’t they?! That’s what women DID, after all.

There were a lot of hushed discussions in response to angry, raised men’s voices.

Finally, the rota came down entirely and a new policy was put in place: everyone cleaned up after themselves. This was a direct order from HR and the (all-male) management team, spread through rules posted in the kitchen and through company-wide emails, so there would be no confusion.

The women immediately refused to clean up the men’s coffee cups, so if they were left dirty in the sink, that’s where they were the next morning.

A few men tried pressuring the women to “just do it”, with heavy implications that it was beneath them to rinse out a cup. They would get shut down, hard, and then the women would file official complaints with HR. A few faces disappeared, and after that, there were no further arguments about cleaning up after ourselves like grown adults.

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I am passed to a customer by my manager. She has already worked with someone and got too fed up and angry to deal with them, so she was sent to me.

Customer: “I need a phone without a contract because I’m taking it out of the country. It’s a gift for a relative!”

Me: “Okay, I can help you.”

Customer: “Good, because the last man to help me was so stupid! He didn’t know what he was talking about! I’m going to get him fired! You’d better know what you’re doing, or I’ll get you fired, too!”

Me: “I am sorry to hear that, ma’am. I’ll do my best to—”

Customer: “I know the manager. He will be fired!”

She then turns to her son and points him back to the department she came from.

Customer: “Go get the nametag of that man who couldn’t help us before! He’s the dark one with no hair. Go find him!”

I’m beginning to learn why my coworker got fed up with this customer.

Anyway, we get to the payment part, about $700, and her card is swiftly declined. She flies into a rage.

Customer: “The last man to help me stole my card number and locked up my account! He’s sooooo getting fired!”

It makes sense to me that he might’ve tried to swipe her card for the transaction too many times and her bank or credit card company put a hold on the card. She eventually has to call and berate her husband and leave to get cash out of the ATM.

She never comes back. I did feel the need to check in with the coworker who helped her though, and I explain what happened.

Coworker: “Huh, I never even got to the payment part. I didn’t touch her card.”

Me: “Oh, so why did she come to me, then?”

Coworker: “The thing that pissed her off was the fact that she had to pay sales tax. In her mind, she shouldn’t have to pay sales tax to America because she was taking the phone and using it out of the country.” 

She tried to get both of us fired. She did not succeed.

Related:
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 9
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 8
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 7
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 6
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 5

I am assisting a customer in Spanish. When I am done, I see another customer staring at me. Well… more glaring.

Me: “Can I help you, sir?”

Customer: “This is America! You shouldn’t be speaking Spanish.”

Me: “The customer could only speak Spanish, sir, so I was simply trying to—”

Customer: “It doesn’t matter! You people should learn to speak English if you expect to stay here. If you want to be an American, you should speak English!”

Me: “I am speaking English to you now, sir, and even when I am speaking Spanish, I am an American.”

Customer: “My great-granddaddy moved here from Italy and insisted we all speak English and only English! You’ll never be as American as me!”

Me: “My family moved here from Central America five generations ago. They moved from one part of America to another part of America. Your family moved from Europe. I think, if anything, I am more American than you.”

Customer: “Don’t play games! Mexico isn’t America!”

Me: “Sir, you’re the one that decided the number of generations in America was what counted as American, not me. I’m simply playing the same game. Now, if the game was how many generations our families have been in the United States of America, mine would still beat yours.

There’s a brief pause as he realizes he can’t beat me without confirming he’s just being a dumb racist.

Customer: “Stupid f****** immigrants should go back to their country!”

Me: “Yes, sir! Go back to Italy!” 

He shouted, but I turned around and ignored him. He complained, but nothing happened. Life goes on in both Spanish and English.

CONTENT WARNING: Racism

My friend and I are at a movie theater getting our tickets when this occurs. Another customer, standing at the register next to us, is staring at my friend.

Friend: *Now annoyed* “What?”

Customer: “You know what, you filthy race-traitor!”

Everyone stares at us. My friend is a white woman wearing a hijab and is of Turkish ancestry.

Me: “Mind your own business.”

Customer: *Pointing, furious* “[Islamophobic slur] b****! Why are you one of them and not a good American?”

Friend: “Leave us alone.”

Customer: “No, I will not leave you alone!”

The customer follows us as we go to get our tickets checked.

Customer: “It’s because you f***ed the wrong guy, isn’t it? You know that he only wants you to get a green card.”

Friend: “I was born Muslim and I’m from Turkey, jacka**.”

Customer: *Snorts* “You can’t be Turkish! You’re too white!”

Me: *Thinking* “Clearly you’ve never heard of Balkan slavery.” *Out loud* “Leave us alone or we’ll get security.”

Customer: *Suddenly yelling* “Why aren’t any of you even checking her bags?! She’s obviously been brainwashed to be a suicide bomber! A sweet little American girl’s been brainwashed by [another Islamophobic slur]s!”

The security guard has seen the whole commotion and approaches the man.

Security Guard: “All right, that’s enough. Get out of here.”

Customer: “How dare you?! When this race-traitor b**** has blown up the place and you’re all dead, I’ll have told you so!”

He stormed out. We weren’t that annoyed by this man, but the movie theater staff gave us each a free popcorn to try to make up for it.

I am at the park with my kids when I overhear two moms talking. 

Mom #1: “So, we ended up canceling [Streaming Subscription].”

Mom #2: “Any reason why?”

Mom #1: “[Movie] has a same-sex couple in it.” 

Mom #2: “Wasn’t that like a three-second clip? It wasn’t even confirmed whether they were or weren’t.”

Mom #1: “Yeah, but I don’t want my kids subjected to that.”

There’s a long pause before [Mom #2] speaks again.

Mom #2: “Didn’t you guys let them watch [R-Rated Movie] at like two and four years old?”