I work as waitstaff at a busy downtown restaurant. I am trans, and apart from the occasional odd glance, I usually get by each day unscathed. Usually…

As a group of customers is leaving my table:

Customer: “I’ve left you a tip, and considering your life choices, I think it’s something that will save you more than any money ever could.”

I sigh, as I know what this means. Instead of a tip, the customer has left a religious tract, this one — judging by the title as I never read them myself — condemning “worldly lifestyle choices”.

That weekend, I am volunteering at an LGBTQ event, and who do I see across the street but the same customer who stiffed me on the tip?! They’re working for a religious charitable organization, ringing a bell, and asking for donations. I recognize the “charity” as one that is known to discriminate against LGBTQ people.

I walk up to them, smiling, and at first, they think I am going to donate money to their collection box.

Me: “Considering your life choices, I think this is something that will save you more than any money ever could.”

I stuffed a pamphlet about our trans charity into their collection box and went back to my volunteering duties. The look on their face from across the street for the rest of the day warmed me up on that very cold day!

I work in a hardware store. I am also trans and transitioning from female to male. Sometimes customers can tell, and sometimes they can’t.

A customer is asking me for advice about some construction methods and has been directed to me since this is my department.

Customer: “Oh… uh… I need to ask a man about this stuff.”

Me: “I can help you, sir. This is my department.”

Customer: *Looking around* “No… can you get me a real man?”

Me: *Staring him dead in the eyes* “I can’t currently see one.”

He got the hint and slunk away like the waste of oxygen he is.

An older lady storms up to me and casually tosses her expensive-looking phone at me.

Customer: “The email isn’t working. Make it work.”

Me: “Do you use the built-in email app or a third-party—”

Customer: “I don’t know what any of that means. I don’t do computers. Just make it work.”

I open the phone’s native mailing app and see that she’s logged herself out.

Me: “If you like, I could show you how to—”

Customer: “I’m too old for these new things. All you young people, making up all these new things like email and homosexuals!”

Me: “Uh… homosexuals?”

Customer: “They didn’t have email and gays back in my day! We all just sent letters and kissed the right people! They’re all stupid modern inventions.”

Me: “The ancient Greeks might disagree with you.”

Customer: “The ancient Greeks had email?”

Me: “…no.” 

I quietly sorted her out and tried not to question why she would group both email and “the gays” as that particular hill for her to die on today.

CONTENT WARNING: Harassment/Stalking
 

When I was in college in my early twenties, after classes, I went grocery shopping for my mother. As always when I’m outside, I was listening to music full-blast and kept daydreaming, which is why it took me some time to notice the white van that kept driving until it was next to me and stopping when it reached me — rinse and repeat until I noticed the driver.

The guy, once he had my attention, made kissing gestures and started licking his lips while looking me dead in the eyes. Very peeved at the unwanted attention, I crossed the road in front of his truck and dived into the store. Once in the shop, I shrugged the encounter off as another creep that I wished I’d never meet again, and I started browsing, still listening to my favourite tunes.

As I was looking through the store aisle for the Items I needed, something caught my eye. It was the creep.

He. Actually. Followed me. Into the store.

Astonished by the audacity of the guy, I took out an earbud.

Me: “What the h***?!”

Creep: “Hi, miss. I saw you outside, and I tried getting your attention. Didn’t you see me?”

Me: “…”

After an awkward silence, he kept going.

Creep: “Yeah… So… I’d like to get to know you better. You wanna go out for a drink?”

It took a few seconds for me to process what was happening. Creeps were nothing new, but this guy was on another level. Then, I started smiling the sweetest smile I could.

Me: “Oh, so sorry, but I don’t think my wife will agree. She’s the jealous type, you know?”

Creep: *Disgusted* “Your wife?!”

And with a revulsed look, he finally left me alone.

While I was glad to be left alone, I was angry with myself. The a**hole was in his company’s van, and I didn’t think of taking a picture of him or at least writing down the name of the company to complain to them and get the guy fired.

My best friend had a good laugh at the story. I’m not a lesbian (I’m ace), but it worked so well that we decided that if either of us had that kind of trouble again, we’d call one another and play lovebirds. The trick is still very efficient ten years later.

I am a waiter at a restaurant, and I am currently transitioning (female to male). The vast majority of customers don’t notice or don’t care, but of those that do…

Customer: “Are you one of those… those he-shes?”

Me: “I identify as transgender if that’s what you’re asking.”

Customer: “I do not want to be served by someone who is mentally ill! Get me another server.”

When this happens, I have been advised to call my manager over, so I do. Usually, I run a tight ship, so when my manager comes over for me, he knows it’s most likely the bigotry thing. I’m in my early twenties and my manager is in his late twenties.

Manager: “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I do not want to be served by someone who is mentally ill.”

Manager: “As far as I am aware, all of our staff are mentally fit enough to work here.”

Customer: “A person who thinks they can choose their own gender and then mutilate their God-given body to try to make it fit isn’t right in the head. I don’t want them dripping their… hormones all over my food!”

Manager: “Ma’am… you think… you think being transgender is something you can catch?!“

Customer: “I’ve made my request. Will you honor it?”

Manager: “I will not move my staff around to cater to your outdated and, quite frankly, vile ideas, ma’am.”

Customer: “Your generation invented this! We didn’t have all this trans stuff when I was younger!”

Manager: “You did, but they were all miserable. Now they get the chance to be happy, but it’s making you miserable. They didn’t have a choice to be miserable, yet you’re choosing it, and you say they’re the mentally ill ones?”

Thankfully, the customer broke down into Biblical rhetoric and escorted themselves out. I hope they’re happy choosing to be miserable elsewhere…