What An Ugly Opinion

, , , , , , | Learning | August 12, 2018

(When I was in high school, being or acting “geeky” was still considered “uncool.” The first couple years were a nightmare. They enjoyed bullying me for being new and for my “nerdy” appearance. It wasn’t until my last year in the school that I earned respect from my classmates and had my own circle of close friends. After a two-week break, I return to school with a new, more modern haircut, which helps me feel a bit more confident in my own skin. As I walk down the stairs during our lunch break, I see a group of elementary-school kids waiting in in a line on the opposite side of the stairs. A teacher who is very popular with most students due to his friendly, casual teaching style, starts walking up and stops midway to greet me.)

Teacher: “Hello there, [My Name]! Good to see you back. There’s something different about you, though.”

Me: “Oh, I just went to the salon the other day and decided to get this new haircut.”

Teacher: “That explains it! It looks great!” *while the little kids are looking at us* “Yeah… Your old haircut made you look a little immature, you know? It hid your features! Now you definitely look like a senior that’s about to graduate!”

Me: *surprised he would mention my appearance* “Thanks?”

Teacher: “Like I always say… There’s no such thing as an ugly girl, just one that doesn’t take care of her appearance!”

Me: *shocked and embarrassed he said in front of impressionable kids* “Wait… Who thinks I was ugly, or that I don’t take care of myself?”

Teacher: *stares at me in surprise*

Me: *as the little kids look at us* “Ugliness comes from the inside, and I’ve never considered myself to be ugly. You don’t have to look a certain way to be considered healthy or be socially accepted. Don’t you think?”

Teacher: *as he starts walking up away from me and the kids* “Yeah, yeah, of course! I was just joking!”

My Friends: *who were in the corner waiting for me to walk down* “About time you stood up for yourself!”

Me: “How dare he? I just didn’t want the little kids to think that was an okay thing to say.”

(After that, that teacher avoided me like the plague.)

Men In Their Fifties Talking Like It’s The Fifties

, , , , | Right | August 11, 2018

(I am seventeen, waitressing for a small-town restaurant run by a family. The only people that work there besides me are the two male owners and their four sons of various ages. I am the only girl. It’s a really small town, full of older people, so I often am requested just because I am female, or given winks and stuff from older gentlemen, which I normally just ignore.)

Male Customer: *in his late 50s* “Nice legs. When do they open?”

(I then “accidentally” spill hot coffee on his leg.)

Me: “Oh! I’m so sorry; let me get you a towel.”

(I run to the back while listening to the guy start cursing loudly in the dining room. Both owners and all the brothers come over and ask what happened. I explain, and they all drop what they are doing and go out to the dining room to the customer. They crowd around him and then tell him to get out. They tell him that they don’t care about what I did because he deserved it.)

My Next Table: “Wow. You must be the sister.”

Me: “Nope.”

(I love that family.)

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Misogyny Is Catching

, , , , , | Learning | August 10, 2018

(My high school gym teacher tends to favor the male students in my gym class, with certain exceptions made for members of the women’s basketball team — he coaches the men’s team. As an uncoordinated female, I am always relegated to the “B-Group” in every sport we learn. During this story, it is volleyball, a sport I actually like and can play to a certain skill level, but I am still in the B-Group. There are no male students in my game rotation, and only one female student — a basketball player — in the A-Group.)

Teacher: *to the players in my section of the gym* “You see, the problem with you girls is that your fathers probably never took you outside and played catch with you.”

Me: *snapping at the term “you girls”* “But sir, my dad taught me how to shoot for the leg for a good takedown and two back points.”

(The teacher could not respond, because my father was the coach of the wrestling team and, indeed, had taught me how to grapple instead of catch. His look of realization was priceless.)

Karma, Thy Name Is Toilet Paper

, , , , , | Friendly | August 1, 2018

(My family and I are eating out for lunch. I excuse myself to the restroom, and have to wait for a stall. A young woman enters and stands quietly behind me. Then, another woman enters and gets in line, talking loudly on her phone.)

Woman On The Phone: “…and he said I couldn’t go to the party! Can you believe it?!”

(She’s not very far behind me and almost shouting, so I’m more than uncomfortable. The woman continues complaining to whomever is on the other end of the call, and I wait uneasily until a stall opens. Unfortunately, it’s after I latch the door and prepare to do my business that I realize there’s no toilet paper left. I put myself back together and leave the stall. The young woman who was waiting in line behind me starts to walk into the stall I just left.)

Me: “Excuse me, but there’s no toilet paper left in there.”

Young Woman: *steps back* “Oh, thank you! I—”

Woman On The Phone: “So I said…” *brushes past us into the stall, still chattering away*

Me: “Ma’am, wait! There’s—”

(The woman slammed the door. Cue the other young woman and me making eye contact, trying not to laugh. I guess karma exists after all!)

What A Diabeetus, Part 7

, , , , , , | Right | August 1, 2018

(I work as a supervisor in a kiosk at a sporting complex. This happens during our rush when I am at the other end of the kiosk. I have had type 1 diabetes since I was two, for eighteen years now.)

Customer: “I would like to talk to the supervisor.”

(I turn and see [Coworker #1] waving me down.)

Me: “Sir, I am the supervisor here; what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Do you have any drinks that are sugar-free? I’m diabetic and I can’t have sugary drinks.”

Me: “We have Coke Zero, Diet Coke, and water, sir.”

Customer: “Nothing else?”

Me: “I’m afraid not, sir.”

Customer: “You should have other sugar-free drinks! This is discrimination against me; you’re discriminating against diabetics.”

Me: “Sir, I can assu—”

Customer: *cutting me off* “Do you know what it’s like to have diabetes?”

(He launches into a rant of rhetorical questions about having diabetes. It lasts a couple of minutes, drawing the attention of everyone in line. I haven’t been able to get a word in since he started, but I can’t serve the queue until he is finished. So, I wait for him to take a breath.)

Customer: “And you don’t know what it’s like to have diabetes. I’ve had it for five years; I deserve some respect for that, but no, there are no sugar-free drinks because you don’t know.”

Me: *with a slightly raised voice* “I’ve had it for eighteen years.”

(He freezes, and it’s like the entire queue holds its breath as I smile and continue.)

Me: “Now, is there anything I can help you with today, sir?”

(He shakes his head, looking meek.)

Me: “Very well. The register is right behind you, and I hope you enjoy the game.”

Related:
What A Diabeetus, Part 6
What A Diabeetus, Part 5
What A Diabeetus, Part 4

 

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