CONTENT WARNING: Antisemitism

About twenty years ago, I was working at a bookstore. I was organizing books in the children’s section when an older man approached. I don’t remember if there was any kind of endcap or display that might have prompted this comment, but I do know it was the first thing he said to me.

Customer: “You know, the Holocaust was actually good for the Jews.”

Me: *In complete shock* “What?”

Customer: “Yeah. Before that, everyone hated them, but there was so much sympathy cause of the camps, so they’re doing much better now.”

Me: “I don’t think the Jewish people see it that way.”

Customer: “They should. It’s much better for them now. They should thank Hitler.”

Me: “I… need to get some stock from the back.”

Mostly, I just wanted to get away from him, but I saw the store manager in the back, so I told her what he’d said.

Manager: “As long as he isn’t bothering any customers, he’s fine.”

I was still pretty young and inexperienced at the time, so I didn’t do anything else, but I think about that encounter all the time, especially as more and more antisemitism shows up in the news and across social media.

I am working at a coffee shop in London, and I am serving a customer with a US accent.

Customer: “Can I have some half-and-half with that?”

Me: “We don’t have half-and-half over here, but I know what you’re asking for. In the UK, the half-and-half equivalent is two-thirds single cream and one-third milk; will that be okay?”

Customer: “No! I want half-and-half!”

Me: “That’s a product of the USA, not the UK, so I can’t—”

Customer: *Narrows her eyes and focuses on my accent* “Where are you from?”

Me: “Argentina, madam.”

Customer: “Then what would you know about what we have in America?“

Me: “Well, I know that you and I are both Americans.”

Customer: “No, I am the American!“

Me: “My country is in South America. It’s literally in the name. Canadians, Argentinians, Mexicans — we’re all Americans.”

Customer: “There’s only one America, and it’s where I am from!”

Our coffee shop luckily has a giant cork world map on the wall, where small bills of foreign currency are folded into little flags and placed on the countries they came from.

Me: “Madam, please tell me the names of the large continents you see here on the left of the map.”

The customer sees, clear as day, in all caps: “NORTH AMERICA” and “SOUTH AMERICA”.

Customer: “Well… only my America counts!”

Me: “At least I know the true definition of American, and that what you were trying to say was you’re from the United States Of America. Now, would you like me to pour you something that is almost indistinguishable from half-and-half?”

Customer: “I’m going to go find a place that knows how to serve an American!”

Me: “I’m an American offering you a solution.”

Customer: “You’re not a real American!”

I point to the southern tip of Argentina (just north of Antarctica on the scale of the world map) and then slide my finger all the way north to Alaska.

Me: “That’s 15,000 km — literally all of it America. Have a great day!”

Related:
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 19
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 18
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 17
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 16
No Fortitude For Longitude, Part 15

I used to run a small business (a wedding space), and I was very successful in a very short period of time. It got to the point that I was getting all-expense-paid invites to industry conferences less than six months after I opened. Needless to say, this ruffled feathers.

Enter [Competitor]. [Competitor] is a chief [Entitled Jerk] who competes in the same space and has been nothing but awful to me from the moment she became aware that I wasn’t just competition but was doing better business than her. She complained that I had gotten expenses paid and implied that it was because I was pretty, said that she felt people who had been in the space longer deserved it more, and made a vaguely racist statement about how my outfit colors “don’t look good” on dark-skinned people. She also reported my booth for accidentally being less than three inches outside of our ten-by-ten slot, and she has tried on more than one occasion to have my competing products removed from vendors’ halls. Needless to say, I despise this woman.

Fast forward a little bit to the global health crisis. I saw major issues on the horizon for my business, so I decided to step out and sell it for a pretty penny. I bought a condo, took a job at a non-profit, and moved along with my life. But some of my friends still in the industry would give me updates or vent, and I was absolutely right to sell; most everyone doing what I did had already closed, including the person I sold my business to.

[Competitor], however, was still going strong, though I noticed that her prices were really, really aggressively low. My friend then showed me screenshots of [Competitor] bragging privately about claiming to be unemployed/disabled by using her long-time partner as a cover for her business and then dropping prices below what other sellers could because she was double-dipping.

This really, really, really made me angry. I have a mobility disability, and I felt horrible for the people she was running out of business by pricing so low. So, of course, I reported her, but nothing seemed to come of that. Then, one of the biggest conferences in our local industry came up on my calendar. This conference costs $8,000 to $10,000 to vend at, and many vendors make 50% or more of their yearly income from this one event.

My friend runs the vending hall, so I asked her to place me right next to [Competitor]. When I left the industry, I still had great contacts on the manufacturing side because I speak Chinese fairly well. I found the manufacturer for [Competitor]’s top-selling items and ordered a sizeable inventory to take with me to the conference. I priced them at cost, made ginormous signs about inventory liquidation, and created these super-aggressive bundle deals that made it nearly impossible for [Competitor] to do any business being right next to me.

I could see her over there fuming, and she did try to come over and complain, but our booth was too busy to even entertain her obnoxious huffing and puffing.

[Competitor] closed her shop last week. I lost about $5,000 doing this, but I got a lot of people deals on packages and items that they never thought they could afford for their special day, and it was honestly fun to help people out, especially at [Competitor]’s expense.

I am shopping, and the store isn’t too busy but only has one register open. The cashier, a teenage girl, is going as fast as she can. She has a stutter and a bit of a lisp.

The man behind me is grumbling and muttering.

Customer Behind Me: “Ugh! Typical! I have places to be, and we’re all stuck in this [disabled slur]’s line.”

I try to ignore him until I hear him start to mock her to his kids.

Customer Behind Me: “W-w-would you l-like y-y-y-y-y-y-your re-re-re-ceipt?”

The kids begin to laugh. They’re very young, so I don’t hold it against them, but this jerk should know better.

Sadly, the cashier hears his mockery. When it’s my turn at the register, she asks me in a small voice:

Cashier: “Are you a member o-o-of the rew-w-rewards club?”

I look smugly at the a**-hat behind me, and then back at her.

Me: “The rewards club? Ooooh! That sounds great! Please explain it to me?”

She seems surprised at first, but then she looks at the guy behind me and it clicks.

I have never given my information so slowly in my life. Never have I asked as many questions as I do this time. The cashier smiles and answers my inquiries while the guy behind me is seething. He is the only one behind me, so I have no reason to rush.

Customer Behind Me: “Can you hurry up, please?”

Me: “And miss out on these great rewards? As if!” 

I only held him up for about five minutes, as I stopped when another customer got in line and I didn’t want them to suffer for this jerk, but man, it felt good!

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

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As can sometimes unfortunately happen, our flight has been canceled (after a significant delay already), so we passengers are queuing up at the airline’s help desk to find out what options we have.

While this is frustrating for everybody, I have seen wave after wave of passengers shouting some truly awful abuse at the poor woman representing the airline in my particular queue. It has been relentless, and the passenger she is dealing with currently has been the worst.

Passenger: “Unacceptable! You will f****** get me on a plane to f****** Chicago right this f****** minute!”

Airline Representative: “Sir, as I have already explained, there are no more flights to Chicago from this airport for the rest of the evening. I can get you a flight to Indianapolis in the next hour and from there a connecting—”

Passenger: “Are you as stupid as you look?! I said that was f****** unacceptable! Did you not learn proper English when your mama smuggled you over the border, you f****** smelly [slur for Latinos]?! Get… me… to… Chicago… now!“

The airline representative simply stares at this awful human being for a moment, and anyone looking can tell that she has just broken. She has been putting on a brave face for this whole ordeal, but the water in her eyes shows she has now reached her limit.

Luckily, this passenger has been shouting his abuse so loudly that he has attracted the attention of airport security. Three large men have approached him from behind.

Security: “Sir, please come with us.”

Passenger: “Why? Do you have a plane for me?”

Security: “No, sir, we’re escorting you away from the airport. Your behavior is posing a risk to staff and other passengers.”

Passenger: “Oh, f*** off! You can’t be serious.”

Security: “Sir, your options are an escort to the exit or an escort to a holding cell where you will be collected by the police. Choose.”

Passenger: “You f****** stupid—”

Security: *With zero hesitation* “Holding cell it is! Well done. You just squandered your free pass.” *To his colleagues* “Gentlemen?”

They all step closer, and the passenger only then realizes how badly he has f***ed up. Thankfully, he allows himself to be escorted away without a fight.

When it’s finally my turn to be served, I am being seen by another representative.

Me: “Is that poor woman okay?”

Other Airline Representative: *In a whisper* “I… I think she just quit.”

I’m not sure about their workplace or Human Resources rules, but in case I wasn’t supposed to know that, I whisper back:

Me: “I don’t blame her for one second!”

I know it can be frustrating when airlines cancel flights, but raging like a bigoted maniac is not how you complain!