(I’m legally disabled due to chronic illness, and I walk with a cane. I also find it funny when people behave awkwardly because of it. I’m standing behind the counter when a middle-aged woman walks in and comes up to the register.)

Customer: “I want three bags of [Cat Litter].”

Me: *smiling* “Not a problem!”

(The customer demands that I single-handedly deliver 120 pounds — 54.4 kilos — 100 feet from the shelf to the register. I step out from behind the counter and she spots my cane. Her demeanor changes entirely.)

Customer: *awkwardly* “Oh, actually, I can get it myself.”

Me: *cheerfully* “Nonsense! I’m happy to help!”

(At this point, I’m too far away for her to object so she stands there waiting. I come back struggling with the first bag.)

Customer: *sounding stressed* “Really, I don’t mind.”

Me: *still smiling* “It’s all right!”

(She stands there uncomfortably while I fetch the other two bags. By the time I reach the register to check her out I’m in a lot of pain but still smiling from ear to ear.)

Me: “Have a nice day!”

Customer: *rushes out of the store*

(I was bedridden the day after, but I still enjoy watching entitled customers get hit with guilt when they discover the lowly retail worker they were bossing around is disabled!)

(I work for an HVAC company. We have a deaf customer, but she can read lips. We send a tech out to her home.)

Coworker: “I just got a call from [Tech] saying that [Deaf Customer] is completely ignoring him! He’s trying to explain something but she won’t even look at him; she keeps turning away!”

Boss: “What? Why?”

([Coworker] and [Boss] are discussing this while I’m on the phone with another customer.)

Me: *getting off the phone* “Who did we send out to [Deaf Customer]? She usually loves [Usual Tech]!”

Coworker: “Oh, no, we sent [Other Tech].”

Me: “You sent a heavily-bearded man to a deaf woman who reads lips?”

Boss: “Oh… no…”

(I am a type-one diabetic and have been for 18 years. I am using an insulin pump, and to give myself correct amount of insulin, I have to calculate the amount of carbohydrates I have eaten. Note that carbohydrates represent a half of the weight of a piece of bread. This happens when I come home from school with hypoglycaemia when I’m 11.)

Dad: “What have you eaten today? Did you give yourself the right amount of insulin?”

Me: “Well, I ate a piece of bread and gave myself insulin for a third of its weight.”

Dad: “Why?!”

Me: “It had large holes!”

(It is several years ago in high school, on a small class trip from the USA to the Mediterranean. We have just arrived at the Vatican and are enjoying the tour when I notice a tiny spot on my best friend’s jeans; she has started her period, and is not prepared. At this point in her life she is incredibly shy. I discreetly point this out to her, and her face goes pale. We immediately excuse ourselves to the bathroom where she enters the stall to try and salvage what she can while I start to ask other patrons if they have spare pads or tampons. They each shake their head if they speak English, or ignore me with a sad shake of their head if they don’t. Desperate, I head out the door, and find a little Italian cleaning lady with her cart. I clearly look as though I have something to ask, so she looks at me, and I take a shot.)

Me: “Excuse me. Do you have a pad, or tampon?”

Lady: “…?”

Me: “For, um… for a period?”

Lady: *gives me an apologetic look, but still clearly has no idea what I’m asking*

(Not being as shy as my friend, I throw caution to the wind, put on the most desperate expression I can manage and point to my crotch. The lady’s eyes go big, and for a moment I’m horrified that I have offended her. She starts nodding vigorously, and laughs.)

Lady: “Si, yes!”

(Relieved, I returned to my friend with a pad, who thanked me profusely. She was mortified but amused by what I did, and she tied her jacket around her waist until we could get back to the bus and use her Tide pen. Today, I still say to her, “Remember when I broke the language barrier to save your jeans by pointing at my crotch? You’re welcome.”)

(I am on crutches due to a bad ankle sprain. I am headed through a shopping centre when a woman a few feet ahead of me stops and turns round to look at me.)

Woman: “Could you stop making that noise? It’s very annoying.”

(I keep walking, thinking she is talking to someone else.)

Woman: “Are you deaf? I said stop making that annoying noise. ‘Click click click.’”

Me: “You’re talking to me?”

Woman: “Obviously.”

Me: “That ‘annoying noise’ is my crutches. I can’t help it.”

Woman: “Then stop walking behind me. Just stop until I’m not there.”

Me: “Or you could walk a bit faster instead of meandering along like a zombie with your face buried in your phone, and then you’ll be out of hearing range quicker. I’m not going to stop and wait just because you’re a selfish cow.”