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Trying To Become A Sausage Dog

, , , | Working | January 22, 2019

(I have a small rescue, a corgi-dachshund-chow-mix, who is a very picky eater. He basically eats everything but dog food, so we have had a hard time feeding him since we’ve only had him a few months. The dog and I are in a very posh pet store that specializes in pet food and even promotes their own brand of treat, which is a sort of “gourmet” sausage for dogs. As I am browsing the store, quite desperate to find something the dog will actually eat, an assistant approaches me and asks what I am looking for. I explain, and she clearly doesn’t like the idea of a dog being picky, as this is seen by many as a failure in training rather than a medical or personality issue.)

Assistant: “Well, your dog seems to be healthy, so I don’t see why he shouldn’t eat the food here.” *points to shelf* “But I have something here that has so far convinced everyone; he’ll definitely like it.”

(I am not convinced, especially as she is referring to the afore-mentioned sausage, which is rather expensive and almost as big as the dog himself.)

Me: “Yeah, I don’t know. If he doesn’t like it, what am I supposed to do with it?”

Assistant: *giving me a condescending look* “Well, of course we have samples!”

Me: “All right, let’s give it a try!”

(She cuts a piece of the sausage which I give to the dog. She can’t see him from behind the counter, so she asks smugly:)

Assistant: “How many do you want? He’s eating it, isn’t he?”

Me: “Um…”

(The dog had had one sniff and decided to drop on the floor and ROLL AROUND IN A PIECE OF GOURMET FOOD… looking rather happy, I must admit. I fled the store and haven’t dared to come back yet.)

Trying To Transition Out Jerk Customers

, , , , | Right | November 9, 2018

(I am a transman; however, I am not on testosterone when this story takes place. Since I work in a busy, well-known fast food place and look fairly androgynous, I am used to being asked whether I am “a boy or a girl” constantly. I am working the drive-thru. A car arrives. I take their order over the headphone and ask them to move up to the next window to pay. I am sitting in said window. The car pulls up, and inside are three dudes in their 20s. They see me and start laughing immediately.)

Me: *with the biggest forced smile I can possibly produce* “Well, you guys look happy.”

Customer #1: “So… we… sort of have this question.”

Me: “Yeah?”

Customer #2: “We were wondering… uh…”

(I know what they want to ask, but don’t want to give them the satisfaction of getting around asking the question.)

Me: “Yes, go ahead.”

Customer #1: “Uh, no, never mind.”

Me: “Oh, please, go ahead. I want to give you the best service possible.”

Customer #2: “Nope, never mind. We’re leaving.”

Customer #3: “What about the food?”

(They sped off without paying and without their food. A coworker later told me that they came back and told him that they were betting on my gender and that whoever lost had to pay for the food. My coworker told them to f*** off.)

Out Of The Closet, And Now Raiding It

, , , , , | Related | February 17, 2018

(My father just recently came out as a trans woman to my sister and me. We’re in our twenties and, though we are both cis women, occasionally we like to wear comfortable clothes that are branded as masculine. My father opens up her closet and proudly shows us all the hidden skirts, blouses, pumps, and handbags, while also allowing us to take anything we want from her masculine clothing. It’s worth noting that her current style, contrary to the clothes she wore while closeted, is very cheerful and bright.)

Father: “Now you can finally take all my shirts as pyjamas, [Sister]!”

Sister: *grabs huge stacks of clothing*

Father: “You have to be quick, [My Name], or she will take everything.”

Me: “Hmm, have you got any flannel shirts?”

Father: “Did you ever see me wearing flannel shirts?”

(I take my time looking at her blouse, flowers all over it, and bright pink skirt.)

Me: “That’s really no longer an argument.”

(We had a good laugh!)

No Reservations About Reservations

, , , | Right | March 25, 2011

(The time is exactly 7:42 pm.)

Customer: “Hello. I’d like to make a reservation for two this evening, please.”

Me: “Absolutely. What time will you be back?”

Customer: “At a quarter to eight.”

(I wait to see if this is a joke.)

Me: “So, for right now?”

Customer: *completely deadpan* “Yes.”