When we are out walking with our four-year-old son, we sometimes encounter an older gentleman in the area. He hasn’t done anything specific that would be cause for alerting authorities, but he gives us a very bad feeling.

The first time we noticed him was when our son was not yet walking but aware of the world around him. The man came up as he was walking in the opposite direction.

Man: “Oh, what a cute little boy! You are so cute!”

At first, we didn’t think much of it other than being a bit awkward as we aren’t very socially outward. But the man kept mentioning our son’s cuteness, to our son, without ever looking in our direction. I tried to think positively, that it was my social difficulties that made a bad feeling about this man grow, and I tried to calm down and smile. However, once I noticed that my son looked terrified, we firmly walked away.

This kept happening. We avoided eye contact and didn’t slow down our walk, yet the man always took whatever seconds he managed to get to talk to our son, even to the point where my husband told him to stop. He didn’t; it was as if we didn’t exist. He never followed us or anything; it was only that creepy behaviour when we happened to walk past each other.

Since then, our son has forgotten his first fright of the man, but he does notice that we don’t like to linger when approached by that man specifically. On an unrelated note, but relevant to the story, this man was not of Scandinavian ethnicity looks-wise.

One day, my son came home from kindergarten.

Son: “Mom, we are bad people.”

Me: “Really? Why?”

Son: “It is bad to avoid someone with darker skin.”

At first, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but once I understood he meant that man, I explained to him that, yes, you shouldn’t avoid people because they have darker skin, but that we avoided him because he had scared him when he was little and given Mommy and Daddy bad feelings about it. Since we have friends of different ethnicities, even family members, he seemed to understand that we only avoided that man, not dark-skinned people in general.

Of course, we used much simpler terms, but I tried to explain the difference between avoiding someone with dark skin and avoiding someone BECAUSE they have dark skin.

Later, there was a reminder to all parents sent from kindergarten about their policy that they didn’t accept any discrimination of any kind, among some other policies they mentioned. We did not think much of it until we had a meeting with one of the teachers.

Teacher: “I must say, I am worried about what your son is learning. He has told us that you avoid dark-skinned people because they give us bad feelings.”

Husband: “What? That’s not true!”

Teacher: “Look. I need to remind you that we do not accept discrimination here. Your son has several friends of different ethnicities, and that is a good thing.”

Me: “Is this about that man? My son thought we avoided a man because he had dark skin. Did he get that from kindergarten?”

Teacher: “We teach the children not to discriminate…”

Me: “And so do we.”

Teacher: “Then why are you teaching him to avoid a person with dark skin?”

Me: “We avoid that man because he scared our son on several occasions when he was younger and doesn’t listen when we tell him off.”

Husband: “Why would he think it is because of his skin? I don’t even know why he would get that idea?”

The teacher grew quiet for a moment and then excused herself to make a phone call. Coming back, she explained that there had been a misunderstanding. Apparently, our son mentioned the man once after we had met him, and one of the teachers had asked what he looked like. Then, when our son proceeded to say that we always avoid him, she jumped to the conclusion that we were racists and then had a talk with all the children about how it is bad to avoid someone just because of their skin colour. Unfortunately for our four-year-old, he didn’t quite grasp all the reasoning and took that as us being bad people.

We never found out which teacher it was, and I am sure she had noble intentions. But next time, I hope she talks to us before teaching our son that he is a bad person.

We have this one creepy customer who likes to come in and just watch all the waitresses work. We know what he’s doing because we always catch him watching and he never hangs around long when the guys are working.

One day, he’s feeling brave after thinking my being polite means he can open up to me.

Customer: “Ya know, I love my wife, but I also love staring at all you beautiful women. In the biblical sense, of course.”

He’s looking me up and down with his creepy grin as he says it.

Me: “Since we’re being biblical, the Bible also tells you to pluck out your own eye. Matthew 5:29-30.”

He didn’t talk to me much after that…

Related:
Don’t Quote Scripture Unless You Quote All Scripture

I work in a hotel. Today, while I was doing my pre-arrival planning for the day on my morning shift, I noticed a very particular name on my check-in list: Marivel Smith. That’s not her real name, obviously, but you get the gist: Spanish first name, aggressively WASP surname. And she was on my Do Not Rent list.

Shortly before I started working at the front desk, Ms. Smith was put on the DNR list for “harassing the staff” — a grievous charge from our old management, who were kinda wimps about that stuff.

Wanting to avoid an issue, I called her and confirmed that she was the Marivel Smith who had stayed with us before. And then I told her that she was not allowed at our hotel, that she was on our Do Not Rent list, and that I’d be canceling her reservation for no penalty or charge, but she was not going to be staying at our property.

She did not like that.

Ms. Smith: “What do you mean, you can’t rent to me?”

I sighed, trying to project an image of “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Me: “I mean, you’re on our Do Not Rent list. So, we will not be renting to you in the future, or today.”

Ms. Smith: “Why?”

Me: “On the list, your entry says that you harassed the staff—”

Ms. Smith: “That is ridiculous! That’s a lie! I’m calling corporate. I have never— I have never behaved that way! I have always been a model guest, I’ve always cleaned up after myself, and I have never harassed anyone at your hotel! That is a lie!“

Deep breath. Don’t get into a fight. Pretend you’re not shaking like a leaf.

Me: “Well, be that as it may, unfortunately, I cannot and will not rent this room to you — nor any future room unless cleared by our management. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Ms. Smith: “Oh, you’re gonna— Who are you? Are you the general manager?”

Me: “No.”

Ms. Smith: “Are you the front desk manager?”

Me: “I am the manager on duty.”

That’s technically the truth. Whoever’s working the front desk is the manager on duty if the general manager and assistant general manager are away.

Ms. Smith: *Sarcastically* “Mmhm. You’re the manager on duty. Well, when the real managers are there, I want a call.”

Me: “Certainly, you can feel free to reach out to them on Monday when they’re here.”

Ms. Smith: *Seeming triumphant* “Actually, no! I’ll just reach out to [Hotel Chain] corporate and see what they think.”

I fiddled with my keychain and shook my head at a woman who couldn’t see me.

Me: “You’re more than welcome to do so, ma’am, but they’re going to punt it down to us and give you whatever answer we give them. Your best bet will be to reach out to our general manager on Monday.”

While I was talking, I went and canceled her reservation in our system.

Ms. Smith: “This is insane. This is ridiculous. Harrass— I have never harassed anyone at your hotel! I am a [Hotel Chain] member! You can’t ban members!”

Actually, most of the people on our DNR list are members.

I gave my night auditor — who was lingering while he waited for his ride home — a despairing look before I continued with Marivel.

Me: “Look, Ms. Smith, I’m sorry. But the fact of the matter is that I’ve already canceled it, and you don’t have a room here. If you show up here, you’ll be removed by police. You’re more than welcome to call our general manager on Monday, but I cannot guarantee that your status will change. Have a lovely day.”

Ms. Smith: “You little—”

I hung up and looked at my night auditor.

And the b*****d laughed at me and did an exaggerated hand-shake-motion.

Night Auditor: “Guess who I am?”

Me: “Shut up.”

He laughed at me and went back into our office, where he kicked his feet up and sat on the Good Chair before I could get there — probably the worst part of my day so far.

I told my manager what had happened, and his response was to text me a thumbs-up emoji, so I feel pretty good, but wow, that was a great way to start my day.

As I wrote this, another guest just came to my desk and gave me a handful of Werther’s Originals because I “looked stressed”. This is my best day at work ever.

Related:
No Means No, And No More Friends For You
No Means No Means ABSOLUTELY THE F*** NOT
No Means No, Even When You’re Three
No Means No (And No Beer)
No Means No Means No Means No Means…

We have this creepy older guy who always tries to flirt with the woman working the checkouts, even the part-time new starters who are around sixteen. It’s totally gross.

I’ve rejected him so many times that he’s become a bit bitter and cruel whenever he sees me. This is fine by me, as he usually tries to avoid my checkout lane, but for some reason, I get him today.

Customer: “Oh! It’s you! I didn’t recognise you as you’re actually wearing makeup today! No wonder. It’s amazing how much better you girls look in makeup.”

I try to ignore the remarks and just scan his items.

Customer: “Make sure whoever you’re wearing the makeup for knows what you really look like, eh? Don’t want him to be too shocked when it all comes off!”

My checkout manager has seen who I am currently serving and has wandered over. She strikes up a conversation with me, loud enough for the customer to hear.

Manager: “I’m always concerned for men who complain about how different women look without makeup. Like, do they think eyeshadow is permanent?”

Me: “I know! Like, do these people get scared when people change clothes?”

Manager: “Well… babies have no concept of object permanence.”

And with that, my manager stared pointedly at my customer for a moment before smiling at me and wandering off.

He was noticeably silent for the rest of the transaction.

When I was working part-time at a chain pharmacy in the 1990s and 2000s, there seemed to be a wave of teenage boys with very toxic masculine traits. I don’t know where they all came from, but I recall one.

Customer: “Where are all y’all’s condoms?! I need like, a hundred!”

Me: “They’re all on display there, near where you came in.”

Customer: “I need like, the largest y’all got. I be f*****’ my b****es all night, every night! They’re always satisfied.”

Me: “Like I said, they’re all there. You don’t need me to help you find them or pick the ones you need.”

Customer: “Don’t be all like that, baby girl. You can get some, too, if you know how to treat me right.”

My manager came charging around the corner. He was a huge tank of a man, and he was very protective over us.

Manager: “Okay, you! Shoo! Out! Stop harassing my girls!”

I know we’re women, not girls, but he meant it endearingly, and it was a different time back then. My manager shooed the obnoxious kid out of the store and checked on me.

Me: “Oh, I’m fine. I was enduring him just to make sure he could get his d*** condoms. I don’t want him breeding.”

Manager: “Oh, don’t worry about that. No contraceptive he can buy will be as potent as his personality.”

Over twenty years later, he’s still the best manager I ever had!