(I’ve been looking to rent a room or find a roommate to rent with, so I’ve posted an ad to Craigslist. Due to getting endless offers from guys who seem to not be able to understand what “female only” means, and feeling like I’m being harassed, I’ve had to get extremely explicit and repetitive in stating I’m absolutely unwilling to live with men in any way, shape, or form, and unwilling to live with any female roommates with boyfriends who ever stay overnight or hang around excessively. It’s not due to religion; I’m atheist. I just have strong comfort preferences for roommates. Let’s face it: boyfriends who sleep over or hang around a lot ARE roommates; they just don’t pay rent or have to clean. I word it politely — for Craigslist — but quite insistently. I quickly get an email from someone whose name indicates she’s female, but it seems not actually for the purpose of offering me a room.)

Email:

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you really hate men? You must be some crazy terrorist Muslim [slur] recluse woman! Imagine, hating all men like that! No one will ever want to sleep with you or even be friends with you with that attitude! Loser!

And how dare you even state anything that sounds like you’re trying to tell me what to do in my own house?! It’s my house! And an extremely lovely and expensive house it is! In the best part of Santa Monica! And I’ll do anything I like in it and invite whoever I like! How dare you have the gall to try to tell me what to do in my own home?! If I deign to invite you to live in my house, you are a guest and have no rights to decide anything! You must treat me deferentially! I’ll do whatever I please in my house! You must be as much of a worthless loser as you sound like! Loser!”

My Reply:

“’Guest: [standard dictionary definition, i.e. someone who stays for free.]’ So, [Woman], if you’re willing to be kind enough to allow me to live in your house completely and totally for free, I’d love to take you up on it, and of course I’ll then not ask to make any decisions at all about what goes on there. Otherwise, however, if you would in fact expect me to pay an equal share of the rent, then I’d actually not be considered a guest at all, but a proper house resident with all the rights that you’ve got. And I will very much expect anyone I live with to have just as much regard for my rules and preferences as I’m expected to for theirs.

Of course, [Woman], that certainly won’t be you, as you’ve made clear you’re a giant xenophobe and racist, and I consider myself to be quite lucky to have been so quickly and effectively warned off you, by you, yourself. Good riddance to utter trash. Don’t contact me again.”

(I blocked her email immediately after sending the reply. I always kind of wondered whether she was an utter nutter trolling random folks on Craigslist, or if she actually was a — nutty — Santa Monica homeowner with an expensive house, renting out a room. The latter isn’t out of the question, sadly, but no matter how nice the house and neighborhood, I severely pity anyone she dupes into living there. You’d have to live like a vampire to get any peace from her.)

(I am a customer witnessing this engagement. I am checking out, with items on the belt. Ahead of me are two young women. One is purchasing vodka, the other a two-liter soda.)

Cashier: *rings up vodka* “May I see both of your identification, please?”

Customer #1: “But I’m buying the vodka.”

Customer #2: “And I’m not old enough to drink.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry; I legally can’t sell this to you, then.”

(Both customers argue slightly, but seem aware they’ve been caught.)

Customer #2: “Oh, can we come back in the store and go through two different lines to buy them both?”

Cashier: *face breaks into twitches*

Me: “Not if you f****** tell him you’re going to do that!”

Customers #1 & #2: *embarrassed faces, quickly leave*

Cashier: *bursts out laughing*

(I work the front desk of a small pet day care and boarding facility. Most of the dogs who are dropped off for “dog day care” are regulars, and are pretty comfortable and used to everything. Sometimes people who have a puppy or their first dog can be more nervous, and they want to make sure their dog is okay and will call during the day to check up on their pet. This is the fourth time today that this particular woman has called to check up on her dog.)

Me: *answering phone* “Hello, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Hi, this is [Customer] again.”

Me: “Hi, [Customer]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I am calling to check up on [Dog] again because I am a crazy dog mom!“

A kid comes up to the counter to buy a book. After tax, he’s short by 82 cents. I can see no parent in sight, so I take out my wallet and give him a dollar.

Two minutes later, his mom comes up with the receipt and asks where his change is. I politely explain that I gave him a dollar to cover the remaining amount. All I get is a cold stare as she briskly walks off without saying thank you.

(I’m walking from the bus stop down a quiet residential street around 11 at night. I’m dressed like an average college student; I’m in a sweater and pants with a backpack, and I have a reusable bag with some shopping on my shoulder. The particular street section I’m on has no sidewalks, so I’m walking at the edge of the road by the parked cars. The street is completely deserted, but suddenly a truck shows up from somewhere, stops by me, and starts crawling along.)

Male Driver: *shouting at me* “Do you need help?”

(I’m weirded out and don’t answer, just keep walking.)

Male Driver: *shouting* “Do you need help?”

(I don’t answer.)

Male Driver: *shouting insistently* “Hey! Hey! Do you need help?”

(The truck is following along with me. I glance over; it’s a white, middle-aged guy, and maybe my eyes were just playing tricks on me in the dark but I’d swear he is wearing a cowboy hat. Any way you slice it, I want absolutely nothing to do with him. Meanwhile, he keeps on shouting, “Do you need help?” on endless repeat. I scuttle away from him, off the road toward the lawn of one of the houses, while giving him a very obvious freaked-out look in order to send a clear message: I’m not going to come anywhere near your truck in a million years, dude, and if you try anything, I’m going to run and start knocking on doors here for help. He finally gets the message and drives off. A couple of days later, I’m walking on that street again at the same time, in similar clothes and with my shopping bag, and when I get to the same exact part of the street, which is again deserted, a four-door car comes by and stops near me.)

Female Driver: *shouting at me* “Do you need help?”

(I glance sideways surreptitiously. This time, it’s a 35- to 45-year-old white woman, possibly with someone sitting in her passenger seat, but I can’t see clearly enough to be sure. I ignore her and walk on.)

Female Driver: *shouting* “Do you need help?”

(I don’t respond.)

Female Driver: *shouting* “Do you need help?”

(Boy, is she persistent. I walk past her car while making a decent pretence of being distracted by my phone. I also have earbuds in.)

Female Driver: *leaning out her car window and calling after me* “Do you need help? Do you need help? Do you need help? Do you need help? Do you need help? Do you need help?” *all while sounding inexplicably more and more entreating and outright desperate*

(I kid you not, I thought she’d fall out that window with how she was stretching toward me, and she didn’t stop calling after me until I finally walked out of sight. In the moment, the best way I could think of dealing with the weirdness was just acting like I didn’t see or hear her at all. Anyway, I don’t really think it was that safe to come up to talk to her on a deserted street just because she’s a woman. I’ve been wondering on and off if the man and woman were married or siblings or the like; it was way too much of a coincidence for two people to act identically within a couple of days of each other, on the exact same stretch of the street. For the record, I live a five minute walk from there. It’s MY neighborhood, just as much as theirs — if they even lived there themselves and weren’t just super-weird visitors. The only “help” I ever need while walking in my own neighbourhood, regardless of time of day or night, is figuring out a good way of getting rid of these sorts of creepy busybodies, without putting myself in danger by talking to them. Please don’t ever do things like this to someone just because they’re walking on some street alone at night; all this accomplishes is freaking us out and really annoying us.)