An older lady customer approaches me as I stock items in our cutlery section.

Customer: “Oh, excuse me! Can you tell me where I can find [produce item]?”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t work in the produce department, but I can walk you over to one of my coworkers who—”

Customer: “I was just over there, but all the workers there couldn’t help me.”

Me: “That’s strange. I happen to know four people working in the produce department today. Let’s go see if we can find—”

Customer: *Insistent* “No, it needs to be you! I want you to help me!”

Me: “But I don’t know where [item] is, ma’am. Why does it have to be me?”

Customer: “Because you’re an American! Those other people were… not!”

Me: “Ma’am, are you saying that because I am white, and my coworkers in produce are Black and Asian?”

Customer: “Don’t make me sound like I’m racist!”

Me: “Oh, don’t worry, you’re doing that all on your own.”

Customer: “Look, I’m not trying to make a fuss! Just show me there [item] is without attacking my opinion!”

Me: “I’d try to share my opinion, too, ma’am, but I wasn’t born with enough middle fingers to express myself in this case.”

Customer: “That’s so offensive! Get me your manager!”

Me: “Yes, I’ll go get my manager because I’m the offensive one.” 

The look on her face when she met my manager, Mr. Myeong, was priceless…

Customer: “Why is part of your hair pink?”

Me: “I like coloring my hair sometimes.”

Customer: “It makes you look like a [gay slur]. You’re gonna go to Hell if you keep making showy un-Christian displays of yourself like that!”

Me: “I’m sorry that you’re lacking God-like empathy in your heart. I’ll pray for you.”

Customer: “You… will pray for me?! It should be me praying for you! You sinner!“

Me: “I’m so sorry that the Devil has made his home in your heart. You will be in my prayers tonight. I hope you can find your way back to the Lord.”

Customer: *Sputtering* “Stop it! I’m the holy one! Leviticus 18:22!”

Me: “Yes, even The Devil can quote scripture, but does that mean he understands it? I’ll pray for God to grant you understanding in the fullness of His Word.”

Customer: “Will… you… stop it?!“

Me: “I cannot. The power of Jesus compels me.”

The customer actually screeches and storms out without their groceries. The next customer timidly approaches.

Next Customer: “Did you just flip their script?”

Me: “Oh, yeah, it works wonders on homophobic suburban housewives and old bigots. The joy of watching their confusion as you call out their un-Christian behavior with actual Christian behavior is worth the hassle of putting back all their groceries.”

Next Customer: “‘Good Christian’ hacks. I’ll remember it!”

I’m American Chinese. A customer comes over to me.

Customer: “Do you speak Asian?”

Me: “No one does.”

 Customer: “Oh… is it one of those dead languages? Like Latino?”

A few months ago, my store had a rainbow-themed line of items. Though we did get some negative feedback, a majority of our customers liked that we had the products.

Except Grumpy.

Grumpy is a man in his sixties who often comes in just to hold some poor employee hostage and rant at them until they offer him a gift card for his issues. Today, he has picked me.

Grumpy: “Hey! What’s with all the gay stuff?” 

Me: “Gay stuff?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

He points to some of the rainbow-themed products.

Me: “What about it?” 

Grumpy: “It’s gay!”

I know what he’s up to, and usually, I don’t have the time for him, but today I decide to make the time.

Me: “What’s gay?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Grumpy: “The rainbow!”

Me: “Rainbows are gay? 

Grumpy: “No! They are from God!“ 

Me: “I still don’t understand. You don’t like rainbows?”

Grumpy: *Louder* “No! The rainbow is a sign from God, and you and your [homophobic slur] friends took it!” 

Me: “I don’t understand, sir. You’re mad about the — as you put it — ‘gay stuff’, and then you said it was about the rainbows, which you also said were from God. I’m not following. Do you dislike the rainbow-themed products or not?”

Grumpy: “You’re being obtuse!” 

Me: “I’m just trying to understand what the issue actually is.”

Grumpy: “You idiot!” 

He left. That was the first time he did not get a gift card for his tantrum!

The area that our factory is set up in is lily-white. We have all of five African American employees.

We hire a kid in his mid-twenties. He’s white, but he quickly becomes close friends with all five of our African American employees. He only has one major bad habit: unlike most people who shout, “F***!” when they stub a toe or whatever, he shouts the N-word.

He bangs his shin? “[N-Word!]” He slices his hand on the equipment? “[N-Word!]”

As shift lead, I take him aside multiple times to try to explain why this is problematic, but he uses the fact that he’s friends with all five of our African American employees to deflect the issue. He visits their houses sometimes and even babysits their kids. (His African American coworkers are all a bit less than twice his age.)

This fact also prevents him from getting fired for this behavior, despite his multitude of warnings.

That is, until about a year and a half after his hiring date, when upper management visits the factory for an inspection. Our protagonist drops a tool and shouts, you guessed it,“[N-Word!]”

Right in front of upper management.

The whole time he is being packed out the door, he is complaining, “But I have Black friends!”

Upper management does not care.

Please don’t be like that guy.