(I’m taking a class on the history of animation. One of our assignments is to go to the library where there is a video reserved for the class to watch in our off time, featuring various old theatrical cartoons that were banned from television for various reasons, mostly due to being politically incorrect. After this, we have to write a paper on it. On the day that the assignment is due, we end up having an in-class discussion on the cartoons that we saw. One cartoon, in particular, looks like it came out either in the late 1920s or early 30s, and everyone keeps talking about the beginning that had a rather blatant Jewish stereotype.)

Me: “Wait a minute. So, we’re discussing a cartoon that ended with piles of dead bodies, many of which were dismembered, and there was even an on-screen decapitation, but the part everyone here is hung up on is the Jewish stereotype that was on screen for about three seconds?”

(I work at the drive-thru. It’s already stressful, busy, and the managers are breathing down our necks.)

Me: “Thank you for choosing [Fast Food Place]. May I take your order?”

Customer: “Let me get a six-piece.”

Me: “Would you like any sauce?”

Customer: “NO! I said a six-piece.”

Me: “Okay… Can I get you anything else?”

Customer: “Let me get an ice cream cone.”

Me: “Okay. Will that be all?”

Customer: “No, let me get a McFlurry.”

Me: “All right, which flavor?”

Customer: “M&M… Why do you have me rung up for an ice cream cone?! I don’t want that!“

Me: “Sorry, sir, can I get you anything else?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “Can I get you anything else?”

Customer: “One moment, ma’am!”

Me: “Okay…”

Manager: “Why are your order times so d*** high?!”

(I am working for a well-known coffee chain. A woman comes in to place her order.)

Woman: “Can I get a skinny cinnamon iced latte? Please make sure you use fat-free milk and sugar-free syrup. I have to watch my sugar intake.”

(I make her order exactly as she asked for. She takes a sip and makes a funny face.)

Woman: “Umm, this doesn’t taste sugary enough. I’ll just fix it myself.”

(I watched as she walked over to where we keep cream and sugar for people who order plain coffee. She dumped out most of her drink and refilled it with about half a canister of half-and-half and about ten packets of sugar.)

(Our town has a school for the deaf, so we get a lot of deaf customers in the store. I don’t know sign language. This evening we get a regular deaf customer but this is my first experience with him. He makes it clear to me that he’s deaf, so I start to try and take his order by pantomiming what I’m asking for. I ask him what he would like to drink, and he then proceeds to point at the word “tea” on the menu. We have sweet or unsweet tea. I proceed to ask him whether he wants sweet or unsweet, but he keeps pointing at the word “tea.” I decide to get him a sweet tea because that’s the most popular among our guests. When I deliver his drink, he takes a big gulp and starts making a disgusted grunting sound, and continues to point at the word “Tea.” I decide to bring out an unsweet tea and he seemed happy about it. His drink order took about a half an hour. For ordering his food, he points at the word “hamburger steak”, which is basically a hamburger patty with nothing on it. I proceed to try and ask him how he wants it cooked, but he just doesn’t understand what I’m saying. One of my coworkers, who is legally deaf, decides to try and help me take his order by signing to him. She proceeds to try and take his order for about ten minutes: she’s finally successful.)

Coworker: “He wants a hamburger steak, medium rare, with a side of greens and mashed potatoes.”

Me: “Why did that take so long?”

Coworker: “This guy seems like he knows sign language, but everything he signed to me was just gibberish.”

(After I delivered his food to him, he was pretty self-sufficient. The only downside was that he nursed his drink and his food and sat at that table for almost five hours total.)

(My husband and I are having lunch with his elderly parents and their friend at a small, family-owned Chinese restaurant. This restaurant is noted for using reusable chopsticks — more on that later in the story. The purpose of the lunch is for me to help their friend get her cable bill lowered. I have worked various call center and debt collection jobs over the years, so I am very good at negotiating with these companies. Although this friend is in her 60s, she has been very sheltered her entire life and doesn’t understand much about the world. Her husband also left her a very significant sum of money when he died.)

Me: *to friend* “All you have to do is tell the cable company that you are an elderly widow on a fixed income and that you are having a little bit of trouble paying the bill.”

Parents’ Friend: “But that is a lie! My mama always taught me that you tell the truth at all times!”

Me: “It’s not a lie: you are an elderly widow who is on a fixed income.”

Parents’ Friend: “But a white lie is still a lie!”

(The restaurant owner has brought out our food. My husband and I both ask for chopsticks because we spent a lot of time in Asia while he was in the military and we both love chopsticks. Much to our surprise, the in-law’s friend decides to ask for chopsticks.)

Me: “I didn’t know that you learned how to use chopsticks?”

Parents’ Friend: “No, I’m not going to eat with them; I want them to use as a pokey stick for a sewing project that I am working on.”

(The restaurant owner hands us the chopsticks.)

Me: “You know those are reusable…”

Parents’ Friend: “But I want them!”

Me: “Uh… no. I’m not going to let you steal from a restaurant that [Husband] and I go to all the time!”

Parents’ Friend: “But my sewing book says to use a chopstick to poke out the corner of a seam!”

Me: “You still can’t take them!” *this sheltered old lady looks like she is about to cry* “Anyway, how is taking something from a small business any different than telling a borderline white lie to one of the biggest cable television providers in America?”

(My mother-in-law, who I really don’t get along with, decides to pipe in.)

Mother-In-Law: “Why can’t you let [Friend] just take the chopsticks? You know she has depression!”

Me: “Yeah, and I have Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, Asperger’s Syndrome, and ADD. So, your point is? Mental illness isn’t an excuse for stealing! Plus, if she has enough money to continue paying her cable bill, she definitely has enough money to go [Major Retailer] and buy one of those sticks for $5! I will not allow her to embarrass [Husband] and me at a restaurant that we go to all the time!”

Mother-In-Law: “But she needs it for sewing!”

Me: “And that matters why?”

(My mother-in-law then looked like she was about to cuss me out and stood up. I stood up also. My father-in-law decided to ask for the check and ushered his wife and their friend out of the restaurant. When my husband and I got out to the car, we both said that his parents’ friend shouldn’t be living independently because her decision-making is so poor.)