(My classmate has a new boyfriend whom she already adores. For the purposes of this story, I feel that it’s important to mention that she is a white girl, and this is her first interracial relationship.)

Classmate: “He is such an amazing guy! I can actually see a future with him! I swear, I am going to marry this guy and be the mother of his children!”

Me: “Wow, that’s really neat, and I’m happy for you!”

Classmate: “Yep! You’re looking at the future Mrs. [Ethnic Last Name], here! Oh, but our kids are going to have normal names.”

Me: *mildly shocked* “Wait, what do you mean by ‘normal’ names?”

Classmate: “You know, just normal, traditional names, like John, Sarah, David, Amanda, etc. We’re not giving them [Ethnicity] names.”

(I just couldn’t continue this conversation with her. But I have developed a tremendous amount of respect for her boyfriend, who is still with her to this day, and has shown an equally tremendous amount of patience for her.)

(I’ve recently graduated and have returned to my old pool job to pay off some student debt. A lot of my coworkers are younger, and they sometimes like to gossip about office romance. I stay out of it, but this one time I have to step in. Note, both [Coworker #1] and I are female, while [Coworker #2] is male. At the time this takes place, no one is in the pool, so we are doing some cleaning jobs.)

Coworker #1: “I can’t believe [Coworker #3] already has a new girlfriend. He and [Coworker #4] only broke up last week. It seems to soon.”

Coworker #2: “Did you know that he was seeing [Coworker #5] on the side up until he met this new girl?”

Coworker #1: “What?”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, he does that a lot. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has someone new in week or two.”

Coworker #1: “How does he get all these girls? He treats them like crap.”

Coworker #2: “Hey, it’s not his fault. The girls make it too easy for him.”

(At this, both [Coworker #1] and I stop and look at him.)

Coworker #1: “What did you say?”

Coworker #2: “Well, it’s beyond his control. The girls are making it too easy for him to get dates and he can’t help himself. It’s not his fault really.”

Coworker #1: “Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Coworker #2: “What? I’m just stating the facts—”

Me: *interrupting* “I’m sorry; are you really saying it’s the girls’ fault that he’s an a**hole?”

Coworker #2: “What?”

Me: “You’re saying that it’s the girls’ fault that [Coworker #3] treats them like crap.”

Coworker #2: “Oh, no, I was just saying that they are making it too easy for him.”

Me: “So, he’s exempt from blame and allowed to treat girls like trash because they give him a chance?”

Coworker #2: “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Me: “What did you mean, then? Especially when you said, ‘He can’t control himself; he can’t be at fault, really.’? Or even when you said, ‘The girls make it too easy for him.’?”

Coworker #2: “I just meant… I… uh…”

Coworker #1: “Dude, she’s got you there.”

([Coworker #2] got a good lesson on double standards that day.)

(A coworker and I are looking at the schedule.)

Coworker: “[My Name], your last name is unusual. Where’s it from?”

Me: “Germany, but—”

Coworker: “Oh, so your family were Nazis, huh? Going to lock me up for being gay? You guys suck!”

Me: “I don’t know if my family were Nazis; let me ask my ancestors. Oh, wait! I can’t, because they were killed in camps. What I was trying to say is that my last name is German, but we come from Poland. My family are Ashkenazi Jews. Hmm, Jews, huh? Still think my family were Nazis? You need to watch what you say!”

Coworker: “I am so sorry!” *quickly walks away*

(I didn’t think it warranted being reported to HR, but I told the supervisor who had a talk with her.)

(We are playing a board game where your characters can be inflicted with mental and physical illnesses, which causes them to have penalties during gameplay.)

Friend #1: “[Friend #2], you can’t do that; you have penalties!”

Friend #2: “Oh! That’s right! I forgot I had amnesia!”

(My store prides itself in a no-time-limit return policy.)

Customer #1: “I want to make multiple returns.”

(She has all the receipts and the tags are still on the clothing; however, I have to do each separately. I attempt to scan the first receipt, only to find it’s not in the system, so I check the date. It’s from over a year and a half ago. Because it’s not in the system, it takes longer to do, and I continuously have to call my coworker over to do overrides. My line starts building. I attempt to send customers to other tills; however, everyone wants to do returns. By the time I start her second return, which is about 15 months old, I have a line of five people waiting to do returns. My customer has five receipts in total, all over a year old, and it takes a good 20 minutes. We finally finish.)

Me: “Anything else I can help you with today?”

Customer #1: “Yes. I would like to buy them all back, now.”

(It takes all my strength not to start screaming at her. I smile and grab the clothing and sell them back to her. Since we no longer carry them in our store, each item is a dollar, plus tax! She returns about $60 to buy it back for $5. The customer leaves, and I am screaming internally.)

Customer #2: “Wow, you have a lot of self control; I would have jumped across the counter and strangled her!”

(Thankfully, the rest of the returns go quickly; however, everyone who witnessed the other woman can’t resist commenting.)

Customer #2: “Don’t worry; I bought this last week.”

Customer #3: *joking* “This is from five years ago; can I return it?”

(I also had one jokingly ask to buy her item back. Thank you, customers, for seeing how stressed I was and, despite being annoyed, making it your goal to make me feel better.)

Related:

Return Of The Returner: The Return

Return Of The Returner