My family is financially stable and has been well-off since the days of my great-grandfather. We use the money to fund our charities and put almost all the money we earn back into our business — a decently-sized attraction ranch that’s sort of become a small-town attraction here. We are also not white but Native American; my father comes from Mohawk ancestry and my mother comes from Haida ancestry. We also pay an affordable living wage to all our employees because we value them (and that’s how you keep good employees!), and they’re like a family to us. Because of this, our family is very well-known to the local community.

For privacy reasons, I do not use my real name online. I have two names: my more traditional Native name and my more “modern” English name. I use my English name online with my mother’s maiden name. My brother and I have very strange and very unconventional English names; we were named after characters from a movie about a boy, a book, a warrior, and a child empress with an impossibly annoying name.

I recently got married, and my wife and I decided it was time for us to look at houses. We looked at some houses in the area where we lived, and we thought it was time to speak to a financial advisor. After a few days of waiting, I was able to get in touch with a local advisor my father had dealt with over Facebook. I had never met him but had heard a great deal about him, and he told me that he was holding a Facebook Live seminar later that day about mortgaging and property ownership. I had some time, so I decided to sit in on the seminar.

To say the seminar was a joke is laughable at best. The man running it was a former athlete who had been dropped by his minor-level team due to injury, and his only saving grace was finding work for the bank. I found this out from his LinkedIn profile, which he sent a link to at the beginning of the seminar while he spoke about his “credentials”. He had us sit for half an hour before he decided it was time for all of us to “participate” and had us react to things.

Advisor: “Use the ‘Hug’ react if you like this, or the ‘Wow’ react if you don’t!”

Advisor: “Use the ‘Sad’ react if you thought this wasn’t helpful, or the ‘Thumbs-Up’ react if it was!”

Eventually, he asked a question about home ownership, and he began to give examples of houses on the market that those in the seminar would be interested in buying. At the end of each one, he would do the react thing again — this time with the “Anger” react if you didn’t like it, or the “Laugh” react if you did. Well, I saw a house that would have been perfect for my partner and me, so I clicked on the “Laugh” react.

What came next I was NOT prepared for.

Instead of continuing on with the seminar, [Advisor] decided he wanted to vet those who said they wanted the houses he had shown. I honestly have no idea why, but when he came to my name, I guess he clicked on my profile and saw my picture. Now, my picture isn’t the worst thing in the world; it’s just a picture of me, in a silly Halloween wig, smiling. I’m a goofy person, and all my friends know it. He judged me based on my profile picture alone (he couldn’t see my profile because we aren’t friends — yay for privacy settings!) and said the following:

Advisor: “Why is there always at least one sad, poor person with a weird hair colour in these seminars? They’re for actual people who want to actually buy a house. You can go back to wherever you came from and buy a house with whatever money they use there.”

To say I was upset by this was a slight understatement.

Now, what the advisor didn’t know was that I had been recording the seminar through my computer, so I could show my wife what had been said and go through it with them when they came home. (This takes place in Canada, in a province that Americans would refer to as a “one-party consent state”.)

I was mad — not for me, but for others this guy had probably treated this way. He had based a decision solely on the way I looked without knowing me, my financial background, or anything else about me. How many others had he done this to?

Then, a thought came across my mind. This was a man who had dealings with my father, his friends, and their friends, all of whom had their investments in the bank he worked in. I wasn’t a member of said bank, but I had been planning on using them when the time came to buy a house. I wanted to get back at this guy who had treated me so poorly — and I wasn’t even a customer!

I started off by calling my parents, both of whom had sizable investments in the bank, as well as business accounts with them. I told them what had happened and sent them the recorded video, where you could clearly see my profile in the shot and what he had said. I swear I saw my father turn as bright as a red LED light, and my mother tried to calm him down (as she usually does), but I knew it was no use. My father left to call his friends while my mother made sure I was all right. (I was.)

My parents were one of two big accounts at the bank where this advisor worked. The other belonged to one of my dad’s long-time friends, and the father of one of my best friends. I told my parents that I just wanted to make sure that they hadn’t been treated like I had been, since my mom often dyes her hair crazy colours when we do fundraising at the ranch and my dad has had to give himself an undercut for a few years due to needing surgery — and he has hair longer than I do!

I wouldn’t know the repercussions of this one phone call until a few days later, when my dad showed up at my current residence and told me he was taking me out for the day with his buddy. I said I’d go with them, because you do not say no to two giant 6’10” Native dudes who handle horses day in and day out and are built like brick s***houses. I got into the truck, and we drove into town.

We arrived at the bank after a quick coffee stop, and the three of us entered. My father and his friend were immediately greeted by the greeter at said branch, and the first thing my father’s friend said was that he wanted to meet with the branch manager ASAP. My father said the same, and the three of us waited as she got the manager on the phone. The bank manager — who I had met before! — greeted the three of us. My father told me to wait in the lobby, and I watched as they disappeared into the manager’s office.

Now, what I’ll tell you next are the words that came straight from my father’s mouth.

As the three of them sat in the manager’s office, both my father and his friend said they were going to close all of their accounts, effective immediately. All the stocks, investments, business accounts, everything would be closed by the time they left the office. The branch manager was stunned and asked why, at which point my father pulled out his phone and played the video I had sent him My father says the manager turned as white as snow and immediately yelled out:

Manager: “[ADVISOR], GET IN MY F****** OFFICE RIGHT NOW!”

I could hear that from the lobby.

That’s when I saw the advisor who had belittled me online run into the office as if there was a fire in his pants and he was looking for water to soak it. The manager asked [Advisor] to explain himself. [Advisor] tried to play it off as a joke. My father and his friend told him they had the entire recording of the seminar, and that no, he wasn’t joking, and they were now pulling all their accounts out of said bank. [Advisor], now seeing that he had been cornered, practically started BEGGING them to stay, saying that he would apologize to me and that it had all been taken out of context. My father looked to his friend, who then said:

Father’s Friend: “Sounds like something a sad, poor person would say.”

He then made sure his accounts were closed and everything was set before he left the office. My father did the same, as [Advisor] began to tremble. Before he left the office, however, my father extended a hand to [Advisor] and said:

Father: “I think you might have forgotten who I am. I’m [Father’s Full Name], father of [My Name].”

Apparently, my parents and their friend had decided to switch banks years ago after news of what said bank had done to another Native family where a grandfather and his granddaughter had been arrested for trying to open a bank account. They already had things in motion, moving things to a different bank, but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Now, I don’t know everything that was said in the office because I wasn’t there for it, so I don’t know what actually happened. All I know is that they came out of the office looking pleased with themselves.

A few weeks later, I saw the same advisor behind the cash register at a coffee chain. I believe he saw me when I walked in because he suddenly had “something to do in the back room” and didn’t come back out until I left the store.

Have you ever had a situation where you’re just taken aback by someone who doesn’t seem to understand the world around them?

Today, I had someone send me their part of a presentation via email… halfway through the presentation itself! We reached their turn an hour into the meeting and they said:

Coworker: “Oh, check your email! I just sent it to you.”

Who sends their slides in the middle of the actual meeting? That’s not how any of this works! Plus, it was a screenshot of a PowerPoint, with super tiny text!

Unfortunately, nothing else happened. I seethed privately, but she’s too senior for me to tell her off.

I was at the Great British Beer Festival, and one of the food stalls had a “guess the weight of the pasty” game going on. After examining the glorious behemoth of pastry, I got the stallholder’s attention.

Me: “Am I allowed to pick up the pasty?”

They agreed, and I did so very carefully before putting it down, very gently. As I turned to leave, I was offered a pasty on the house. After dancing the yes/no tango of manners, I accepted and asked why.

Stallholder: “You are the first person to actually ask to pick it up. We have already had to make two new ones because of people just grabbing it and then dropping it.”

I chose a steak and Stilton pasty, and it was the best pasty I have ever eaten.

I got my nails done in July before I went to a New Kids On The Block concert. Because I had gel polish put on, my nails grew out before the polish wore off, and they looked pretty bad. It’s September now, and since tomorrow’s my dad’s eightieth birthday party, I decided I wanted to get a polish change. The place I went to is a nice locally-owned establishment rather than a large salon.

I went in, and [Employee] brought me right in. She wrapped foil around my nails to soak the polish off, and we started chatting. When she took the foils off, nothing had changed. She tried it again. The polish wasn’t coming off.

Employee: “When did you have these done?”

Me: “In July.”

She also asked me if I’d had it done at a certain type of salon; I said that I had. To be fair, it was a pretty good guess because there are a lot of them.

Employee: “Sometimes, some salons put superglue in their nail polish to make it thicker.”

It took at least three or four tries of wrapping my nails in foil and soaking them. Then, she had to use the file across the top of my nails and a scraper to get the rest of the polish off. I said I was surprised she didn’t have a dremel, but she said she doesn’t like using it because it can damage the nail.

On the plus side, we had a lovely conversation, and I may have a new blogging client in exchange for their services. My nails also look great. I gave her a 40% tip for all of her hard work. But it makes me wonder what the heck was in the polish from the other place!

I once punched a checkout operator in the face.

I think a bit of context might be needed before I get added to every watchlist and chased out of the Not Always Right community.

You know when you’re wearing a watch as well as a garment (such as a coat) with long sleeves? And you want to see the watch, but the sleeve is covering it? There are two ways of viewing your watch. One way is to slide your sleeve back with your other hand and look at the watch.

The other way (often used if you holding something in the other hand) is to stretch your arm out and shrug the sleeve clear of your watch.

Anyway, I was at the checkout, at the front of the queue. The seated checkout operator was scanning through my items, and I was standing there, holding my wallet in my right hand and curious to know what the time was on my watch on my left arm.

I did the shrug maneuver.

I wasn’t paying attention.

The poor checkout operator got it in the forehead.

Fortunately, there was no injury. Firstly, it wasn’t a true fist; it was more of a cupped hand (palm down). Secondly, she was only just in reach, and there was barely any force behind it. She wasn’t hurt, only shocked.

You would not believe how many times I could say, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, are you all right, are you all right, I’m so sorry,” in the space of a few seconds!

Thankfully, she accepted my profound and multiple apologies, and she knew it was an accident.

No police were called, and I didn’t have to serve time.