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Nothing Civil About This War

, , , , , , | Working | November 6, 2017

(My partner and I have been waiting for months to see “Captain America: Civil War,” and going to the movies is a very special occasion for us due to finances. We decide on a theater located on the top floor of a rather nice mall that is surrounded by a food court, since prices are fair and the location is close. We pay and take our seats in the front, and not too long after the previews start someone sits directly behind us and begins noisily eating out of a paper bag. My partner turns and informs me they are eating a burger out of a paper bag and I figure they will be done soon. Except, they have an entire large backpack FULL of burgers, and they proceed to eat them as noisily as possible all the way through the credits and half an hour into the movie itself! My partner confirms that they are eating burger after burger like their backpack is a dispenser, and the paper on each burger is crinkled so loudly and purposely that I cannot hear most of the dialogue. I’m talking continuous and endless loud crinkling, like an Internet troll decided to come to the movies. Fed up, I decide to do what I never do and complain. This theater is two stories, and to get to the desk I have to go down an escalator and across the lobby. When I get to the concessions desk, a very nice guy calls a manager when I explain the problem, and whispers quickly that he had the same issue a week ago and not to expect any real help. A female manager arrives and I explain to her my issue. She looks incredibly bored.)

Manager: “What do you want me to do about it?”

Me: “You have a no outside food and drink policy.”

Manager: “Yeah, but it’s not like we can enforce it; we’re right next to the food court.”

Me: “So, what am I supposed to do? I can’t hear, and have missed a big part of the movie.”

Manager: *sighs* “I can come up behind you and talk to them, but that is really it.”

Me: “That’s fine.”

(I went back upstairs and into my theater, where the guy was STILL eating noisy, paper-wrapped burgers and continued to do so for an additional twenty minutes. I could hear everything behind me and looked back several times, and the manager never came into the theater, at all. When we left after the credits, we counted over a dozen burger wrappers thrown all over the aisle behind us. I was upset that nothing was done and that the manager lied and never came to check, so I decided to write a formal online complaint on the company website. Apparently those complaints go directly to the managers, and the manager I talked to decided to answer and state that I was making too big of a deal out of this. Then she lied and said she did come to the theater, and that their was no evidence after the show of outside food or drink. Then she offered me free passes to shut me up! I was pretty upset that my complaint got brushed aside twice by the same awful manager, who apparently just liked to lie. I decided to not push it further, as I had clearly hit a wall, and refused the passes. Who wants to go to a movie they can’t hear? I went back about eight months later and didn’t see her, so hopefully she works somewhere else now.)

Some People Have The Nerve

, , , , , | Learning | November 6, 2017

(One of my friends at college has a hidden disability. Her nerve endings send pain signals so she is in constant pain; however, walking is doable. On top of that, she needs a hip replacement at the age of 18, which makes stairs impossible. This means she takes the lift just going up a single flight of stairs. I’ve started going with her because she’s told me people often make comments. We get the lift with a group of guys who are on the sports degree. I press the button for floor one.)

Guy #1: *condescendingly* “That’s lazy, don’t you think?”

Me: *smiles* “My friend’s nerve endings don’t work properly, which means she’s in constant agony. Plus, she needs a double hip replacement due to a birth defect.”

(There’s silence.)

Guy #2: *to [Guy #1] in a light jovial tone* “Bet you feel like a right d*** now.”


This story is part of our Invisible Disability roundup!

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What The Truck?

, , , , , , | Working | November 6, 2017

(I am the customer. I recently purchased a truck and am going in to finish the payment set-up at the bank. I am female.)

Banker: “Okay, so, according to this statement, your payments are going to be $305.00. Do you want that directly from your savings or checking?”

Me: “Yeah, checking, please! I am really excited. I have never owned my own car before!”

Banker: “What sort of vehicle did you decide on?”

Me: “I got an F-150.”

Banker: “What is that?”

Me: “A Ford?”

Banker: “I’ve never heard of it.”

Me: “It’s a popular truck.”

Banker: “You got a truck?”

Me: “Yes. I love it.”

Banker: “But you are a girl!”

Me: “Yes… Yes, I am.”

Banker: “Why didn’t you get a car?”

Me: “I have had a car before, but I really liked the truck.”

Banker: “Girls can’t drive trucks.”

Me: *pauses* “What?”

Banker: “Girls can’t drive trucks! Those are meant for boys!”

Me: “No offense, but that is absurd. It’s just a truck.”

Banker: “Are you a lesbian?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Banker: “Are you a lesbian? Lesbians drive trucks.”

Me: “What is wrong with you? It’s just a car! And no, not that it’s any of your business, but I am not a lesbian, but I take great offense to your stereotyping people based only on the sort of car they drive. This is so wrong.”

Banker: “Are you sure you aren’t a lesbian? I mean, you look girly, but you never know….”

Me: “Do you have a boss?”

Banker: “Yes.”

Me: “Go get them.”

(I explained the entire situation to the boss, while the banker looked completely confused as to why anyone would find her offensive or wrong at all. The bank covered my first payment over it, and I have never seen that lady working there since.)

Arkansas That Coming

, , , , , | Right | November 6, 2017

(In Arkansas there are “dry counties” where no alcohol is sold. While returning home from a long drive along I-40, I stop at a gas station in one of these “dry counties.” The cashier is ringing up my order when a man cuts in line to ask a question. He is clearly from out of state.)

Customer: “Where is the beer?”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t sell alcohol in this county.”

Customer: “You’re kidding me. Are you all a bunch of redneck hicks or something in Arkansas? It’s just beer! That’s crazy!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, sir; it’s the law. We’re a dry county. In about 15 miles, Pulaski County is a wet county.”

Customer: “You’re all a bunch of idiots! I shouldn’t have to drive that far. It’s just beer!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry I can’t help you. You will have to drive about 15 miles.”

Customer: “Fine, a**hole!” *storms out the door*

Cashier: *to me* “I’m sorry about that. Will that be all?”

Me: “You realize it’s Sunday, right?”

(No alcohol can be sold in all of Arkansas on Sunday in any county.)

Cashier: “Oh, crap! That’s right!”

(To this day, I’m not sure if he was being sarcastic or not.)

The Only Digging Is Into The Hole You Made Yourself

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 6, 2017

(My boyfriend and I are going out for dinner. I’m currently a full-time student, so we’re living on his salary until I finish school and start my job. The bill comes and he goes to pay it when another customer, who’s been glowering at us all this time, decides to jump in.)

Stranger: “Letting her man pay for everything! Gold-digger.”

(We both freeze, and I look over at him.)

Me: “Not that it’s really any of your business, but I’m still in school. I’ll start paying for things as soon as I start making money.”

Stranger: *mocking* “Oh, and what are you studying? Flower arranging? Interior design? You’re going to be mooching off your man forever. This is what’s wrong with the world! You need to go out and get a real job instead of being a gold-digging freeloader!”

(My boyfriend decides to jump in.)

Boyfriend: “Actually, she’s a medical student. We’re out celebrating because she just found out she got her residency at [Prestigious Local Hospital], and she’ll be starting there as soon as she finishes up her last round of rotations. Give it a few years, and she’ll making… probably four times what I do.” *laughing* “If anything, I’m the gold-digger; I’m just doing it preemptively!”

(The guy goes red and can’t make eye contact, while my boyfriend and I start affectionately arguing about whether it’s possible be a preemptively gold-digger, or whether that’s just investment in your partner’s career. When the waitress comes to collect our check a minute later, she brings us a couple slices of chocolate cake, as well.)

Boyfriend: “Oh, we didn’t order these.”

Waitress: “Yeah, I know. On the house. Congratulations on getting a good residency, and good job handling that jerk! That was the best laugh I’ve had all night.” *raising her voice just a little, and winking at us* “Some people just can’t keep their noses out of other people’s business.”

(The guy went even redder, and we both thanked her profusely. Great way to end the night!)