When I was a boy, we moved out of the city to an old farmhouse in the country. It wasn’t exactly remote, but it was in a very rural location, and the only main services it had were telephone and electricity — no gas, and water came from a borehole.

We were rather surprised by the arrival one day of a van from a British gas company. The van parked in the front drive, and the driver walked up to the door and knocked. Mum answered the door.

Mum: *Understandably confused* “Hello, can I help you with anything?”

Man: *Presenting his ID* “Yes, [Gas Company]. I’m here to read the meter.”

Mum: “We don’t have gas.”

Man: “But I’m here to read the meter.”

Mum: “Well, if you can find one, you’re more than welcome to read it, but it must be very well hidden.”

The man from the gas company looked around at the beautiful country setting and nodded.

Man: “I thought it looked kind of an odd place to have gas.”

In a sort of appendix to the whole business, later that same year, the gas company sent a letter saying that they were assigning a new meter number and that the enclosed sticker should be attached to the gas meter — the gas meter that didn’t exist.

The vending machines at work are so expensive and so infrequently stocked that I buy a few multipacks of snacks and leave them in my desk. A few of the other guys in the office buy snacks from me (at cost), and then a few more join in. Suddenly, I get requests to stock other items, and then, before I know it, I’m running a fully-stocked tuck shop.

I only charge what it costs for me to buy items, but when a bar costs, say, 19p from a multipack, most people round up. I’m not making any real money, but it probably covers more than my petrol.

One day, my boss pulls me into his office.

Boss: “We’ve had a concern raised about you running some sort of racket.”

Me: “You mean the tuck shop? I would hardly call it a racket.”

Boss: “I’ve been told it’s more of a business, being run on company time. There was something about exclusion or—” *reading from a paper* “—an all-boys club?”

Me: “I have food at my desk, and people come by on their breaks and pay the cost price for what they want. I’ve told [Female Coworker] that if she wants to join in, she can, but I’m not buying a mini-fridge out of my own money to suit her.”

Boss: “Hang on, I didn’t say any names. Okay, I think I need to see this for myself.”

We go back to my desk. My desk gets emptied in front of everyone, and I have to admit there is a lot of food. I volunteer the ledger, the price list, and all emails related to it.

My boss goes through everything, returns it to me, and leaves, saying something about checking with Human Resources.

I hear nothing for weeks until the senior HR manager comes into the office and is pointed to me.

HR Manager: “Are you [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes.”

HR Manager: “Do you have any salt and vinegar crisps?”

Me: *Pauses* “Sure, what brand?”

HR Manager: *Laughing* “What brand?! Oh, you’re being serious. Any will be fine.”

Just like that, he became one of the most frequent customers. He would often stop to chat and we got on really well. I know [Female Coworker] lied to get me in trouble, but it certainly didn’t work!

My friend and I are visiting a local museum. I am disabled and use a cane when walking, especially important when walking longer distances, such as through museums. Since both legs are affected by my disability, I often alternate the cane between hands, which often gets me accused of faking. I’m also sixteen, which gets me odd looks because most people associate canes with older folks. So, using my cane isn’t an ideal situation, but I have to do it. 

Employee: “Hi, welcome to [Museum]! Can I see your tickets, please?”

Friend: “Here.”

I switch my cane to my other hand because my other leg has started hurting. We start to enter the museum, my cane now in my left hand

Employee: “Ma’am?”

I’m a trans guy, so this already pisses me off a little

Me: “Yeah?”

Employee: “You’re going to need to leave that outside.”

Me: “What, my cane?”

Friend: “But he needs it to walk!”

Employee: “That’s bulls***. I saw her switch it to her other hand.”

I’m already in tears because I have really bad anxiety.

Me: “No, I have a disability that affects both my legs, so I need to use it for both sides.”

Employee: “That’s ridiculous. If you really had a disability on both sides, you’d be in a wheelchair.”

I should be using a wheelchair, actually, but I can’t afford one right now.

Employee: “I bet you stole it from a disabled person, just to get accommodations.”

Friend: “Why the f*** would he do that? That’s ridiculous! Please just let us into the museum.”

Employee: “No way. You’re obviously faking a disability. I have to report you to management.”

Friend: “Go ahead. We’ll wait here.”

The employee calls management over.

Manager: “So you’re… faking a disability, apparently?”

Friend: “The employee claims my friend is faking a disability and refuses to let us in the museum.”

Employee: “She’s obviously faking! She was holding her cane in one hand and then switched it to the other!”

I’m completely sobbing at this point.

Me: “I, I have a disability in, in both legs, and I have to use the cane on both sides.”

Manager: “[Employee], meet me in my office.” *To us* “I’m so sorry about that. Are you all right, sir?”

He puts an emphasis on the “sir”. He likely saw my trans flag button and he/him pronoun button on my bag.

Me: “Yeah, thank you so much.”

He offered us credit to the gift shop. We initially refused but he insisted, and I picked out a very nice stuffed animal. We had an amazing time at the museum, and we made sure to thank the manager again on our way out.

I am sixteen and I have type-one diabetes. I have been diagnosed for a bit more than a year and a half. I’ve kept good control over it and the doctors are always impressed when I have a checkup.

I take insulin ten to fifteen minutes before I eat so it has time to take effect. With the school lunch, there are two options: a chicken salad and a cheeseburger. I decide to go with the cheeseburger. I take my insulin and go up the line. I grab a to-go box, but before I take two steps:

Friend: “Wait, that’s a salad.”

I set the box back down and go to grab a different box, but the lunch lady shouts at me.

Lunch Lady: “Hey, don’t you dare!”

I look at her and she looks at me like I just slapped a puppy in the face.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Lunch Lady: “You already grabbed the salad, so you have to take the salad.”

Me: “But I haven’t even opened it. I’m a diabetic and I already took insulin.”

She shakes her head.

Lunch Lady: *Sickly sweet* “I’m sorry, that’s not my problem. Take the salad and go sit down now!”

Me: “But I’m a diabetic, and—”

Lunch Lady: “Take the salad or you don’t get anything.”

I’m a little pissed at this point so I take the salad and go off to my table with my friends and tell them the situation. They removed the vending machines in the cafeteria over the summer so there is no way for me to get the correct amount of carbs without stealing another kid’s cheeseburger. One of my friends tells me I should go get the principal quickly before the insulting fully sets in.

I go to the office and tell him and the counselor the situation, a little panicked because it has been well over ten minutes since I took insulin. The principal walks me back up to the cafeteria.

Principal: “[Lunch Lady], give him the cheeseburger. He really needs it.”

Lunch Lady: “But he already took a salad. He can deal with it.”

The principal just sighs, grabs the cheeseburger box, and shoves it into my hands and tells me to go sit down. I sit relatively close to the lunch line so my friends and I can hear the principal.

Principal: “How you acted was truly out of line. I thought you understood to treat students’ health situations with care and understanding.”

He told her off for another minute before heading back to his office, and I got to eat my lunch in peace. Maybe she’ll know better next time.

I have twins who just turned three, a boy and a girl. We are openly relaxed about gender differences and it helps us make ends meet when, for example, he wears pink pyjamas until he outgrows them and they fit her. When he demands to wear a skirt, f*** it; he is three. It’s just that his sister has one that sparkles, so he wants one, too. This gets us the odd look once in a while and even some comments, but this is the rudest we’ve ever encountered.

In celebration of the twins’ third birthday, we are shopping for bike helmets. We usually buy used stuff, but safety gear is nothing we want to buy used.

The shop we visit is having a big clearance sale, and [Daughter] picks a violet helmet with a princess on, and [Son] picks a green dinosaur one. Then, we spot a teeny tiny purple bike. It is HEAVILY marked down as it seems to be a floor model that has seen better days, but still, it’s a fully working bike that never saw the outside world before. Our son tries it and loves it. We decide to buy it and approach the worker at the till.

At first, he sees our daughter and smiles as we ask about the purple floor model bike. He then sees my boy on the bike.

Worker: “Oh, it’s for him? Okay.”

My hubby stays with the happy little biker doing rounds on the sales floor. I go with the worker to pay.

Worker: “So that is [price nearly three times what I expected]. We can load the box for you if you pull up your car to the back, or your husband can carry it out. Instructions to assemble are inside.”

Me: “Wait, what? We thought we would get the floor model as it is for [price]?”

Worker: “I’m sorry, but we have no boy bikes of that model on the floor.”

Me: “I thought they were unisex at that stage? And even so, he is getting on and off it fine as it is, so we are totally okay with it anyway.”

Worker: “Let me get my manager.”

I’m confused. The guy goes off and returns with another worker who says he is the manager.

Manager: “My employee told me you asked for a new bike for the floor model sales price? I’m here to clarify, it is that cheap because it is used and we can not sell new ones for that price.”

Me: “But I never asked for a boxed one. We could not pluck him off that one anyway by now, and I thought we could just ride it out of the door.”

Manager: “But he told me you needed a blue one and the floor model is purple.”

Me: “I never said anything about another colour. Why would I? I understand it’s the floor model you are selling. Can I please just pay and get this done?”

Manager: “Of course! I’m sorry. Please come over to the till.”

The worker is standing near the till, and as he notices me paying the low price, he pipes up:

Worker: “But it’s the wrong colour and you can’t return it anytime later for that reason. The sale is final. And if it breaks, then it breaks; it’s your own risk.”

The manager sighs and turns to the worker.

Manager: “[Worker], you know full well that we give a two-year warranty on anything that leaves our doors. And you need to stop making these ridiculous assumptions about what is a boy’s and a girl’s colour.”

Worker: “But it’s not healthy to have him on a purple bike! Everybody will think it’s a gay thing, and he will be embarrassed!”

Me: “Excuse me. He is three. He still has a lot of years in peace before he has to find out what goes on in his heart and pants. He is wearing Hello Kitty underwear right now because it was glittery and he liked it. Just relax, man.”

Worker: “I should call the police on you for abusing your child! You are trying to make him gay, just because you think it’s cool and real men scare you.”

We all fell silent in shock a bit, and the manager grabbed the employee’s shoulder. He started protesting but was wordlessly shoved through a door to the office. The manager closed the door and returned. He started to apologise but I stopped him. I knew it was not his fault and he thanked me a lot. He gave us an even bigger discount on the bike and threw in two novelty bike horns shaped like animals that the kids got to pick. [Daughter] picked a tiger and [Son] took an elephant. The manager told me the worker was his sister’s boyfriend and he only had him there because he wanted to help them out. I never saw him there again, but we still go get most of our bike gear there and are very satisfied.