(I’m a woman, and I’ve stopped to fill up my tank. I’m the only one at the station. A red sports car comes up and parks on the opposite side of mine. A woman gets out and walks over to the trash can between the stations. She is rather oddly dressed: knee-high boots, leggings, tunic, jacket, and a scarf, so only her face and hands show.)

Woman: *throwing away a very tiny item* “Hi, how are you?”

Me: “Hello.”

Woman: “Do you know any deaf people who need help interpreting the Bible?”

Me: *confused look*

(I’m a bit surprised at the abrupt questioning, as we’ve only traded the barest of greetings. She apparently thinks my hesitation is over not knowing what deaf means, as she begins using hand gestures.)

Woman: “Do you know anyone who is deaf and needs help interpreting the Bible because they can’t hear? A deaf person who is unable to hear sounds, and needs help with the Bible?”

Me: *now really flummoxed* “Ah, no. I don’t.”

Woman: “Okay. The reason I ask is because we’re Jehovah’s Witnesses, and we’re looking for deaf people to help interpret the Bible so they understand the Word of God. We’re looking for people so we can go to their homes and help with reading the Bible.”

(She then stares at me for a few moments, as if waiting for me to comment on this. As I’m still trying to process that a complete stranger asked me for a deaf person’s address, I say nothing. She blinks, and then gets back in the car and zooms off, without getting any gas. It is only later that a thought occurs to me.)

Me: “Why would a deaf person need interpreters for the Bible? They can read!”

Related:
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 12
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 11
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 10

(I am a customer. As I am walking into my local store, I notice a giant, hand-written sign on their door, all highlighted. Apparently, the card readers on their pumps are down, customers need to prepay inside, and they are sorry for the inconvenience. There are also notices on all the pumps. I am in line when I hear this exchange:)

Customer: *to cashier* “Are your pumps broken, or what?!”

Cashier: “No, sir. They just can’t take payments at the moment. I’ll be glad to prepay for your gas here.”

Customer: “Ugh, fine. You really should put signs up, though.”

Me: *chortles to myself*

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “Um, there’s a huge sign on the door saying that.”

Customer: “Nobody reads those! There should be signs on the pumps!”

Me: “Sir, I didn’t even buy gas and I noticed the signs on the pumps.”

Customer: “Shut up.” *followed by the evil-eye and silence*

(I don’t know how the staff can keep it together like they do and keep from slapping the stupid out of people.)

(I’m a teenage girl and I work at my father’s gas station. While it’s a good neighborhood and he knows I can take care of myself, he has audio and video cameras up for his own peace of mind. One weekend afternoon, a car pulls up into the fire lane. A young girl I don’t recognize, probably no older than 18, jumps out of the driver side. She comes into the store and up to the counter.)

Girl: “I need a pack of [Cigarettes].”

Me: “Sure thing. I just need to see your ID.”

Girl: “I left it at home.”

Me: “Sorry. Feel free to come back later when you’ve got it with you. Have a nice day.”

Girl: “Oh, come on! I’m 18, I swear!”

Me: “Sorry, I really can’t. It’s against the law.”

Girl: ”Don’t be such a f****** b****, and sell me the f****** cigarettes!”

Me: “Do you realize that all our transactions are video and audio recorded?”

Girl: “The f*** does that have to do with anything?”

Me: “I’ve got you on tape asking me to break the law, I’ve got you on video parked illegally in the fire lane, and I can assure you that your plates are on camera, too. And, since you are refusing to show me an ID, I know that you’re driving without a driver’s license. Would you like this b**** to call the police now?”

Girl: *turns white and runs out of the building*

(I have just started at my new job and have been here for about a week when a regular from my old job comes in.)

Regular: “There you are! Why aren’t you at that other gas station?”

Me: “I work here now. Want me to brew you some coffee?”

Regular: “No! I want you back at that other gas station! I like that station better, but the other people who work there are mean, and they never have coffee ready. So, quit here and go back over there. That’s what I want!”

Me: “Um, sorry, but one of the reasons I don’t work over there anymore is because the other workers weren’t so nice. Why would I go back?”

Regular: “Because you’re nice! And you’re the only one who would make the coffee right!”

Me: “Why not just come here, instead? It’s still a gas station with coffee, and I work here, so you know it’ll be ready for you.”

Regular: “No, I like that place better! I just want you to go back there!”

Me: “That is… not going to happen.”

(The regular didn’t like that one bit and stomped away. Shortly after that, my old job went out of business. I have no idea what he did for coffee after that.)

(I work the graveyard shift at a truck stop. I also have a bad leg and walk with a cane. Despite my disability, I always manage to get my work done. This happens one night in the middle of my shift.)

Customer: *glaring at me* “You are way too young to be walking with that cane!”

(Having heard this a million times, I use my usual response.)

Me: “Yes, sir, I agree. My leg doesn’t, though.”

(I smile at him, hoping that answer is enough.)

Customer: *clearly angry now* “Now, listen here, young lady! Canes are for people who actually need them, not for youngsters who just want to get attention. Where is your manager? Does he know you use a cane when you don’t need one? This is outrageous.”

Me: *insulted and angry* “Sir, I do need this cane to be able to walk, and to be able to get my job done. My manager does know that I have it and that I use it. I do not use it just to ‘get attention.’ Canes are used, as you said, by people who need them. There is no minimum age requirement for needing a cane. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go clean a shower for one of our regulars.”

(I used my cane and walked away to do my work, but I heard the customer mumbling to himself about “faking youngsters” who “want all the attention.” I found out later that he spoke to my manager, who told him the same thing I did. I never got an apology, and I never saw the customer again.)