Don’t Hold Him To It

, | Working | December 24, 2013

(The lights in the restroom have failed. I call mall security to let someone know.)

Me: “Hi, I’m calling because the lights in the men’s room outside [Store] have failed.”

Security: “Ah. Thanks for letting us know. Please hold.” *to someone else* “HEY! Bulb’s blown in the s***in’-room by [Store]! Get one of the maintenance sons-of-b****es down there ASAP!” *to me* “Hi. Thanks for hold… Uh. We’re going to pretend that we live in a universe where I hit ‘hold’ instead of ‘speakerphone.’ Okay?”

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Giving Them A Sporting Chance

| Working | November 29, 2013

(My grandma, two brothers, little sister, and I are at the mall. Grandma is signing us up for children’s sports teams. I am female and really want to play football, as I used to play it everyday with my grandpa.)

Grandma: “Two of my grandchildren would like to play football just like their grandpa did.”

Registrar: “Names?”

(My grandma gives our names, and the registrar writes them down. I see I’ve been put down for ballet.)

Me: “Um, you put me in ballet. I want to play football.”

(The registrar looks at the paper and his eyes widen.)

Registrar: “I am REALLY sorry. It’s just that all girls that come here want to do ballet, so I got a habit of putting down girls for ballet.”

(The registrar rubs my name from ballet and re-writes it in football.)

Registrar: “What about the other two?”

Grandma: “Well, [Sister’s Name] here wants to do ballet and [Brother’s Name] wants to play basketball.”

(Their names are put down. The organizer looks over the registrar’s shoulder.)

Organizer: “Wait, you put a girl down in the wrong place. You put her in football. She should be in ballet!”

Me: “Actually, I’m the girl in football. I like football and want to follow in my grandpa’s footsteps.”

Organizer: “Oh, don’t be stupid. Girls hate football! They hate all sorts of sports!”

Me: “Really? Watch this.”

(I pull out my phone and show the organizer and registrar a video of me playing football against the toughest boy in school. Even though he is five grades higher than me I manage to beat him.)

Registrar: *smiling* “So I guess this strong, young lady will stay in football right?”

Organizer: “Fine, we start this Saturday. If you can survive the tests, you can join.”

(Surprise! I survived and played great!)

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Be Careful What You Wish For

| Related | November 16, 2013

(I have grown up on air force bases or small towns, and I never got out much. So when my mother takes me to a large and busy shopping mall in a big city, it is quite a thing. Thus, when I see Sikhs for the first time, I can do nothing but stare at them.)

Mother: *nudging me* “What is it [My Name]?”

(I point at the two gentlemen in full turbans, and reply loudly.)

Me: “Look mommy… GENIES!”

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Not Making A Valid Pointe

| Working | November 6, 2013

(I am a mother of three children, and I go to the local mall to put my younger daughter’s name down for soccer in some Christmas activities there. The person at the registry is a man.)

Me: “Hi, I’d like to put my child down for soccer.”

Registrar: “Sure. Name?”

Me: “[Unisex name].”

Registrar: “Okay, and where are they? I need a picture.”

(I show him my daughter. He frowns and then writes a form after taking a picture. A couple of weeks later, I come back. The same registrar is there, setting up some Halloween banners.)

Me: “Uh, excuse me, I think you made a mistake. I put [Daughter’s Name] down for soccer, but you put her under the ballet registration.”

Registrar: “It’s simple; I just put her down for what she wanted.”

Me: “No. I definitely put her down for soccer. She hates ballet.”

Registrar: *gritted teeth* “Gymnastics then.”

Me: “No! I wanted to put her down for soccer!”

Registrar: “Hey. If you can’t read the sign, don’t register your b****** child.”

(I look. The sign simply says giving children a happy time, and stuff about making sure every child has a fair game.)

Me: “There’s stuff about fair game. How many children have you registered that are playing over the vacation?”

Registrar: “35.”

Me: “How many are girls?”

Registrar: “18.”

Me: “How big are the soccer, football, and hockey teams?”

Registrar: “Nine each.”

Me: “And the ballet and gymnastics, how many girls in each?”

Registrar: “Nine each.”

Me: “How many girls are in the sports teams?”

Registrar: “None. Look, girls can’t handle that s***. They don’t want to get dirty or hurt. If they do, they f****** cry and it’s annoying. Anyway, boys don’t do ballet and gymnastics, so I have to only put the girls down. We got fewer girls than we expected. Otherwise, there’d be too few and we’d have to cancel them.”

Me: “You do know you’re being sexist?”

Registrar: “You want to argue with it, [then] take it up with [Organizer].”

(The organizer is behind the kiosk, signing up another mother with a girl and boy.)

Me: “Excuse me; your employee put my daughter down for ballet when I chose soccer.”

Organizer: “I know he did. We have to put some girls in ballet and gymnastics; otherwise there wouldn’t be much to teach.”

Me: “Not every girl that comes here!”

(The other mother quickly looks at a form for her daughter.)

Mother: “I put [Girl’s Name] down for hockey!”

Organizer: “We just do our best. We need to make sure every class we teach this vacation is equal and fair. Read the sign. We’ve had to divide them into different numbers.”

Me: “I don’t care WHAT you say; you two are being sexist; plus, it’s hardly ‘equal’ if you put EVERY girl in these lessons and not allow them to take part in the sports! My daughter wants to play soccer and you put her down for ballet.”

(The organizer lifts up some plastic packaging; it’s bright pink with a pattern of fairies, stars and cakes.)

Organizer: “Remember to pay $3.50 for this on your way out.”

(The other mother and I immediately leave. We tell our friends’ children and other children from my children’s school about this, and soon, they completely boycott, with only 16 of the original 37 children signed up for sports. They were all boys, I might add. I don’t think they can divide that by five.)

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Baby Talk To Make You Balk

| Right | October 28, 2013

(My neighbors have gone out for the day, and have asked me to babysit their youngest daughter, who is about two years old. I bring her to the mall so we can do a little shopping. I have her strapped into her stroller, and am pushing her around through the clothes racks. As I pause to look at some tops, a rather large customer walks past a rack, and knocks off some of the merchandise. She bends over to pick up the clothes.)

Two-Year-Old: “D***! That lady got a fat a**!”

(The customer rounds on me with a death glare.)

Customer: “What did you just say?!”

(I point at the two-year-old girl, completely mortified.)

Me: “I am so sorry! That was her!”

(The customer opens her mouth to berate me when the two-year-old girl pipes up again.)

Two-Year-Old: “D***! What a fat b****!”

(The customer stares at the little girl in shock before glaring at me again.)

Me: “She’s not mine! I’m just babysitting!” *to the child* “You shouldn’t say things like that! It’s very mean, and rude! Who taught you that anyways?!”

Two-Year-Old: “Big sister! Now buy me candy, b****!”

(I quickly wheeled her away under the glaring gaze of the customer. I didn’t babysit her ever again!)

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