I work at a 125-room business hotel. We have contracts with a variety of construction companies for discounted room rates, and because I always work the third shift, I’m usually the one checking these guys in. I’ve gotten to know a lot of them really well, and we’ve got a good bond. I took a week off and three of them went to my manager concerned that I’d quit.

One of these guys is some kind of engineer in his sixties. If you’re from the upper Midwest, you’re familiar with the type: rangy, windburnt, a couple of sad whisps of grey hair. He grew up in a small town in the middle of nowhere, stolid, friendly, and not super expressive.

He always checked in on Mondays, and at first, he irritated me because he always paid with cash for his $600 stay, but I warmed up to the old guy. He would always take a smoke outside with my coworker when she was there and sometimes offered me a cigarette even though he knew I didn’t smoke.

Once, he brought up a bottle of some Canadian whiskey to the desk and asked if I’d like it. I love whiskey, so I took it, and we got started talking, first about how you absolutely need the egg white in whiskey sours, then about other liquor preferences.

Me: “Well, look. If I wanna get drunk now, vodka. But if I wanna enjoy my drink? Old fashioned, whiskey sour, or something fruity. I love fruity drinks.”

He laughed, cleared his throat, and said:

Guest: “Hey, speaking of fruity. Uh. Can I ask you something?”

At the time, I had neon purple hair, with my fingernails painted to match, and large rainbow earrings. So, I braced myself for an extremely awkward question about my sexuality.

Me: “What’s up, man?”

Guest: “Well…” *Cough.* “…you see. My nephew, he’s twenty, about your age, he, uh. Well. He just came out to the family.”

I nodded, prompting him to keep talking.

Guest: “And, uh, well. I… look, I love the kid. Is there anything that you guys… that I should, yunno. Do for him?”

I cocked my head.

Me: “Whaddaya mean?”

Guest: “Well, I mean, you, y’know, you guys, uh. Should I, say anything to him?”

Me: “I mean, I doubt you’ll get him to change his mind—”

Guest: *Face flushing.* “No, no, not like that. Like. Is there a card? I was thinking I’d maybe bake the kid a cake?”

Me: “Bake… him… a cake?”

Guest: “Yeah, a cake. With, ah. With rainbow icing. And on the top, I’d write “Uncle [His Name] Loves You” or something, so he knows I love him no matter what. Something like that?”

Me: “I… I’m not sure the cake is necessary. Just keep… keep treating him like you always have, okay?”

Guest: “No card?”

Me: “No, dude.”

Guest: “Oh.”

He paused and stared at our shelf of Doritos.

Guest: “I’ve always made fun of him for not having a girlfriend. Can I start making fun of him for not having a boyfriend?”

Me: “You absolutely can.”

Guest: “Cool. Cool. You know, he’s about your age. Nice kid. Maybe I could—”

Me: “Are you trying to set me up with your nephew?”

Guest: “I… well. Aren’t you single?”

Me: “Yes, very recently.”

Guest: “How long were you two together?”

Me: “Long enough to get engaged.”

Guest: “Oh.”

Me: “Yeah… did you need to talk about anything else?”

Guest: “Nah, no. Thanks, buddy, enjoy the whiskey.”

He left, and I went into the office and laughed. To this day that’s one of my favorite guest interactions.

May 17th has just rolled around, which is the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, and Transphobia. As a straight ally, to show support for this, I am wearing some LGBTQIA+ pins on my uniform (management approved).

I am stocking shelves at a grocery store when a customer storms up to me. I am sure you know where this is going.

Customer #1: “People like you should not be handling food!”

Me: “People like me? You mean employees?”

Customer #1: “No! Gays! You think you can just wear your pins and think you can spread your ways!”

Me: “Well, not that it makes a bit of difference, but I’m straight. I’m wearing this because today is the International Day Against Homophobia.”

Another customer perusing the shelves nearby joins in the conversation.

Customer #2: “I agree with this guy; you shouldn’t be wearing those today.”

Customer #1: “*D*** straight!”

If that was a pun, it was unintentional. Puns require a semblance of a brain to intentionally put together.

Customer #2: “Yeah, I agree. We should be against homophobia every day, not just today!”

I smile while the homophobic customer glares.

Customer: “You’re all a bunch of [gay slurs]!”

As happens during a NAR story, the customer stormed off. [Customer #2] was actually shopping for drinks for a birthday party for his brother, who falls under the “T” part of “LGBTQIA+”, and I ended up getting invited!

This awesome customer was able to step in when the employee probably couldn’t defend themselves. It’s allyship like this that should be celebrated among many other things during Pride Month! Here are 17 Stories That Will Have You Bursting With Love And Pride – For International Pride Month!

We have a small LGBT section in our bookstore. A show about a gay teen romance (“Heartstopper”) is exploding in popularity on Netflix at the moment, so we’re cashing in by stocking the series of graphic novels the show is based on. They’re selling quite well, but as to be expected, there is always that one customer…

Customer: “Do you know what these books are about?! The ladies at my church told me you were selling these, but I simply had to see it for myself!”

Me: *Not giving a f**** “The ladies at your church have good taste! It’s a great book series!”

Customer: “No! It’s about [gay slurs], and what is worse, it’s made to look like a comic so it can turn children gay! You need to remove them, now!”

I call the manager over, who tries to speak to the woman in a calming and polite manner. The customer is still loud enough for me to hear, however.

Customer: “No! You will be removing these books, and if you have any concern for America, you will burn them!”

My manager speaks.

Customer: “Unacceptable! I will be letting everyone at the church know how much disrespect you show for the Lord and for America!”

The customer storms out, and the manager lets me know she needs a moment. I finish my morning and I go to lunch. I come back and find the manager in a flurry of activity, stocking books in our prime advertising spot near the entrance.

Me: “What are you doing?”

Manager: “That customer told me to take the Heartstopper books down, so I did. She never said anything about putting them back up somewhere else.”

I notice that our “newer” LGBT book section has now doubled in size, with a much wider selection of books in it than before. 

Manager: “So, I’m stocking every single LGBT book I can find! This place will be a f****** Pride parade in book form by the time I’m done!”

Every copy of “Heartstopper” we have is now on the shelf, along with the graphic novels dedicated to canonically LGBT superheroes. Books about Harvey Milk and a gay history of the USA share space with studies of gay art in ancient cultures.

By the next week, [Manager] has ordered in even more titles, and even though we can’t keep the new-and-improved LGBT section by the entrance for much longer, it still finds a new area in a prime spot and manages to keep it at its improved size.

A few weeks later, the manager tells me in passing:

Manager: “If they complain again, I will tell them that every complaint gets an extra shelf space added to the LGBT section.”

I have since left the store, but the section is still there and healthy every time I go in to browse the books.

Also, that customer made me look into — and buy — every volume of “Heartstopper”! Thanks for the recommendation, lady!

I’m asexual demiromantic. I don’t feel sexual attraction, and I only feel romantic attraction if I already have a deep emotional bond with the person. In total, one person knows I’m demiromantic. I told my grandmother, who I thought was a bit homophobic due to bits and pieces of conversation throughout the years, a couple of weeks ago.

[Grandmother] took my sister and me out to eat for lunch, having not seen me in almost a year. While she was dropping me off at my house after lunch, my sister went inside, but I stayed to chat a bit before [Grandmother] left.

My ADHD kicked in and the conversation went from phones to mobile games, to mobile games based on a well-known book series, to said well-known book series, to the rather transphobic author of said book series, to transgender acceptance, to TV shows — all in less than five minutes.

Grandmother: “I just started this new show about a young trans kid that was born one gender but realized they were the other gender at four. And the parents automatically accepted them and helped them dress like the gender they felt, instead of the one they were born as.”

Me: “Really? What show?”

Grandmother: “[Show]. It’s really good; I’m almost done with it. It’s actually why I broke up with [Grandmother’s Ex-Boyfriend].”

I didn’t even know they were dating.

Me: “How come?”

Grandmother: “He kept saying that it’s against God, that the Bible says it’s wrong, and that they are all going to Hell. Same with other people like them. The Bible may say that in some parts, but I just don’t believe that my God would do something like that — would make them like that and then hate them for it.”

Me: *Surprised* “‘Love thy neighbor’ and all that. I have friends that are trans. And all of my friends are part of the LGBTQ+ community.”

I decided to take a chance. She wasn’t as homophobic as I thought. If she was accepting of a TV show character, I hoped she would be accepting of me.

Me: *Hesitantly* “I’m asexual and demiromantic myself.”

Grandmother: *Frowning* “Demiromantic?”

Me: “Essentially, I don’t feel sexual attraction, and only feel romantic attraction if I already have a deep emotional bond.”

Grandmother: *Smiles* “That’s like the main character. They have to already have a bond with the person to have feelings for them.”

The conversation continued, but I honestly kinda did the thing where you say, “Uh-huh,” “Yeah,” and, “Hmm,” to everything. I was happy that someone accepted who I was. If only the rest of my family was as accepting.

I worked at one of the smaller government departments for about three years before fully transitioning to female. After my driver’s license was updated, my manager told me to complete a form so that my employment record was updated.

There wasn’t a spot on the form to update your gender, so I completed the “Other” field and sent it off. A few days later, I got this phone call.

Me: “Good morning, [My Name] speaking.”

Employee: “Good morning. I’m [Employee] from Human Resources. I’ve got a form from you about updating your records and just needed to clarify some things with you. Is this a good time to speak?”

Me: “Yes, it’s my work-from-home day and I’ve no meetings. Go ahead.”

Employee: “Great. So, I can see that you’ve said you need to change your gender. I need to check if that’s correct, or if that was an error.”

Now, I was nervous and defensive.

Me: “No, that’s correct. My driver’s license was updated, and it needs to match my legal records, and—”

Employee: “Hey, it’s okay. That’s all fine, then. I just need to make sure it’s not a misunderstanding or if you really want us to do something else. It looks like you want us to change your record to female, yes?”

Me: “Yes. Yes, I meant to do that. I’m sorry, I’m just used to…”

Employee: *Quieter* “Do you wanna push the button?”

Me: “…sorry?”

Employee: “I’m not meant to do this, but I can share my screen with your desktop, and you can move the mouse if I do that. We can both see your record — no one else’s. I’ve made the change, but I haven’t put it through yet. Do you want to push the confirm button and make it official?”

Me: “Do you usually offer this to people?”

Employee: “No, but I thought you might like to be able to say you officially changed and made the government change it all on your own.”

I pushed the button!

This story is part of our Highest-Voted-Inspirational-Stories-Of-2023-(so far!) roundup!

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