(I have a seizure disorder. I have a service dog and wear a medical alert bracelet. When I use public restrooms, I tend to use the handicapped stalls. After doing some shopping, I walk into a busy bathroom. I start walking to the stall when a janitor emptying the trash steps in front of me.)

Janitor: “Where do you think you’re going? That stall is for handicapped people only.”

Me: “Oh, I have a seizure disorder. Here’s my medical bracelet, see?”

(The janitor looks less than impressed.)

Me: “And this is my service dog.”

Janitor: “You can walk just fine. You can use a regular stall.”

Me: “‘Handicapped’ doesn’t just mean an inability to walk.”

Janitor: “You are not allowed to use this stall. It’s the law.”

Me: “Seriously? There’s no such law. I have a legitimate reason to use this stall.”

Janitor: “Listen. You are not going to steal this stall from these ladies! So pipe down your attitude! You aren’t anything special! You and that ridiculous mohawk of yours can go in that smaller stall, missy!”

Me: “The last time I was in a regular stall, I had a seizure. I fell and hurt myself. The stall was so constricted that I hit my head on the walls and toilet. My doctor wants me to be safe.”

Janitor: “You expect me to believe that?”

Me: *turning my head, revealing a long, thick purple scar running under my spiked hair* “This stupid mohawk is a result of the 70 stitches I had to get after cracking my skull open on the side of a toilet! I had no way of avoiding everything in that constricted space when I fell so I hurt myself and a janitor had to pull me out, unconscious. Now, if you could let me access the stall with more floor space and more room for me to avoid head injuries and a lawsuit, I’d appreciate it!”

(The janitor turned pale while the line behind me erupted in a chorus of “Ooooohhhhh”s. Apparently, a woman at the end of the line alerted another nearby janitor to the incident, so when I left the bathroom, I was told to wait by the employee main office. The head janitor offered his apology and granted me a gift card to the mall and a treat for my service dog!)

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Me: “I need to pull out £500 for my mum; she’s sick and can’t get here. I have her card and PIN but her daily limit from the cash machine is £250.”

Cashier: “You can’t make transactions on someone else’s account. That’s fraud.”

Me: “Okay, but she gave me her card and she can’t get here.”

Cashier: “Well, you can always pull out £250 today and £250 tomorrow from the cash machine. That would work.”

Me: “Okay… Why can’t I do it over the counter? You use the PIN to verify the transaction.”

Cashier: “Because that’s fraud.”

Me: “So, it’s not fraud for me to get exactly the same amount out of the machine?”

Cashier: *fixing me with a hard stare* “Bank customers should never reveal their PIN to anyone.”

Me: “But you just told me to get the money out of the machine…”

Cashier: “That’s FRAUD.”

Me: “Okay, then… Bye…”

(I got the money from the machine with no problem at all.)

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(We are a young married couple. Both of us are employed and reasonably well paid, but my wife and I have hit some financial hardships due to unexpected medical bills. We go to a credit counseling service to talk about consolidation and other services. After looking over our paperwork for a few minutes, the lady helping us speaks.)

Counselor: “Well, I see what the problem is.”

Me: “Uh, ‘problem’?”

Counselor: “Yes. You need to make more money.”

(We left.)

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(It is 2004 and my family is flying back into New York City after having spent two weeks abroad. While we are away there is a big Red Sox/Yankees brawl between the players during a game. My father, a native of the Boston area, is decked out in his customary Red Sox sweatshirt and ball cap. We are going through customs when all of a sudden the very professional customs agents turn into Yankees fans.)

NY Customs Agent #1: *noticing my father’s clothes* “Hey, I don’t know if we should let this guy into the country!”

NY Customs Agent #2: “Yeah, he looks pretty suspicious.”

NY Customs Agent #3: “Are you sure he’s not going to cause trouble?”

(Fortunately, my father relishes having good-natured baseball arguments and so took it in stride. We eventually were allowed back into the country.)

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(I work in an area very well-known for our inclement weather. A blizzard has just hit our region, and the county has declared a state of emergency. Many of the surrounding towns have issued driving bans. I am able to get to work early, but due to the restrictions and weather, many of my coworkers are not.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Fitness Center]. This is [My Name]. How may I direct your call?”

Caller: “Is [Operations Manager] there?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. She isn’t here today.”

Caller: “Is [General Manager] there?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. He isn’t here, either.”

Caller: “This is [Coworker]. Why is nobody there today?”

Me: “Because of the driving ban? It is illegal for them to drive here right now.”

Caller: “Oh… that’s why I’m calling. There is a driving ban and I don’t think I can drive to work tonight.”

Me: “…”

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