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…

My employer has a line of Pride-themed products for June. We have had a bit of backlash because of this line, but unlike other companies, we have not removed it from our store. A woman struts in, sees the display front and center, and turns to me at the nearest register.

Customer: “What is that?“

Me: “That is our Pride collection. It’s—”

Customer: “I am not interested in the homosexuals.”

Me: “Okay.”

She stares at me expectantly.

Me: “Is there something—”

Customer: “What are you going to do about this?” *Points at the display*

Me: “Are you looking for a specific product?”

Customer: “I want this gone.”

Me: “Okay.”

She stares at me again, so I keep my customer service smile on.

Customer: “Why do you favor two men putting their things in each other? How can you be a family store when you promote women kissing women? And the drag queens assaulting the children! And—”

Me: “I thought you said you weren’t interested?”

Customer: “I am not!”

Me: “Well… you know an awful lot about something you have no interest in.”

Customer: *Turning bright red* “Get this sin out of this store! Now!”

Me: “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I turn away and busy myself with tidying the already straightened shelves near the register. I can almost feel her staring into the back of my head.

Customer: “I will never be back here!”

Me: “Okay.”

She left us a negative review online. My manager called me into the office to tell me she had named me specifically. We had a good laugh about it when I straightened it all out.

I am working at the checkout. Our card payment screens offer customers the chance to round up their payment and donate to a particular charity. A customer has just seen this prompt.

Customer: “It’s asking me if I want to round up and pay $0.13 to a charity.”

Me: “Yes. You can opt out by pressing the X button at the bottom.”

Customer: “I don’t donate to foreigners, disabled people, gays, that environmental crap, and democrats. Which one should I choose?”

Me: “Uh… there’s a local animal charity on the list, sir. It’s [Animal Charity].”

Customer: “Are they gay animals?”

Me: “I don’t think they’re anything, sir. Just animals.”

Customer: “Can you check? I need to tell my pastor I donated to a charity, but I need to make sure it doesn’t go to any gays.”

I call my manager over because, honestly, I don’t know what to say, and this guy is being so offensive that I am recoiling a little bit. The customer explains his “predicament” to the manager.

Manager: “Do you support veterans, sir?”

Customer: “Of course, I always support the troops!”

Manager: “Pick [Veteran Charity], then.”

Customer: “Thank you! I can tell everyone at church I gave to a good charity.”

The customer leaves happy with himself.

Me: “[Manager], you know that [Charity] is the veteran support offshoot of [LGBT Foundation]?”

Manager: *Sarcastically* “Really? Wow. I didn’t know. Crazy…”

My mother recently got a puppy, and most of said puppy’s toys and accessories are pink. It wasn’t by design; they just bought her a pink collar and lead, and then my mother ended up just associating her with pink, so a lot of things that dog has are pink.

Her boyfriend refused to take the puppy out for walks until we got a different colour lead, because, and I quote:

Mother’s Boyfriend: “People will see me and think I’m gay.”

Me: “Do you seriously think that people will assume you’re homosexual purely because you’re walking a dog with a pink collar?”

Mother’s Boyfriend: “Yes!”

Me: “And why would that be such a devastating assumption?”

Mother’s Boyfriend: “It would be humiliating for strangers to think I like c**k when I don’t! It isn’t me who’s being unreasonable; it’s society!”

I gave up trying to make him see sense.

So, because this grown man in his fifties is afraid that strangers might think he’s anything but a heterosexual, the entire family uses one lead to take the dog on walks, and he has his own special black manly one.