Caller: “I get my Internet from you, and it’s not working right!”

Me: *Looking at the caller’s details* “I’m not seeing an outage in your area. Could you—”

Caller: “No! It’s not an outage thing! But your stupid Internet won’t let me post my s***!”

Me: “Oh, are you having an issue with a particular website?”

Caller: “All of them! Facebook! Twitter! I keep posting, and then they keeping taking them down!”

Me: “Oh! I see. Well then, it sounds like your Internet service, which we are responsible for, is working just fine. We’re not responsible for the actions of Facebook and Twitter.”

Caller: “I pay you for Internet! I expect my Internet to do what I need it to do!”

Me: “I would recommend contacting Facebook and Twitter about your issues, ma’am.”

Caller: “I tried! They got no phone number like you do!”

Me: *Trying to be helpful* “Maybe it’s to do with the nature of what you’re posting? I know that Facebook and Twitter have policies that—”

Caller: “All I’m posting are the f****** facts! The facts! They keep coming at me with their f****** fact-checkers!”

Me: “I… see. Well, ma’am, I do know that sometimes, if what you post can be interpreted as misinformation, they can apply fact-checkers to… uh… make the message a bit clearer?”

Caller: “I don’t need their f****** fact-checker! The Bible is my fact checker!”

Oh, Lord…

Me: “I’m afraid there’s still nothing I can do, ma’am.”

Caller: “Useless libt*rd!” *Click*

Yeah… there was no saving that conversation.

I am a Hungarian transgender woman in transition. In 2020, the government decided that being transgender is a sin, it’s evil propaganda from the West, and it harms children. I am also a desk officer in the police, and only my superior officer knew that I had started to transition.

A man from the ministry came in to give us the new rules.

Ministry Man: “From this point onward, [Special Group] will give orders on what people are to be arrested for being or suspected of being [transphobic slur]s.”

Superior Officer: “Excuse me. Can you check the door again for me?”

[Ministry Man] peeked at the door, which said “Police” on it.

Ministry Man: “What about it?”

Superior Officer: “Oh, for a moment, I thought we had turned into the KGB.”

Ministry Man: “What?

Superior Officer: “Arresting people on suspicion of being transgender?”

Other Officer: “I don’t know… [Ministry Man] looks too much like a woman to me. Permission to initiate arrest?”

Ministry Man: *Instantly angry and shouting* “You must follow the rules!”

Me: “Can I see some of those rules?”

Superior Officer: “Yes, let us see those rules.”

We checked. It was a badly written paper trying to give full power to some office to call the cops everywhere they wanted, to install a hotline we must work with, and to generally put someone above the police in rank without the necessary training.

Superior Officer: “Come back when the rules make sense. We are not the KGB, and we have actual emergencies to worry about. Good day.”

I was very happy with this, and the whole department agreed that this was a powergrab.

Sadly, two years after that, I got fired by the top level for being an openly asexual woman, because it seems that was also corrupting children somehow. I moved abroad anyway.

I am the author of this story. As promised, here is another story of working in this American bookstore in Paris thirty years ago.

One day, I notice a client behaving in an odd manner. He is staying around the table where we have the recommended books and picking them up, covering part of the book with his hand, mumbling something while shaking his head, and then putting the book back.

I approach and offer the usual friendly request:

Me: “May I help you with anything?”

The client looks at me and then looks back at the books. He grabs one them.

Client: “It’s unbelievable, isn’t it?”

He puts his hand on the cover, removes it, and puts it back again. I do not remember the book precisely, but I think President Bill Clinton was on the cover.

Client: “They really seem human — until you cover half their face!”

He puts back his hand on the cover and removes it again, and I notice that he is actually covering the bottom part of Clinton’s face.

Client: “It’s only when you do this that you can notice the lizard eyes. They are well camouflaged.”

Me: “…”

He does the same thing with another book while mumbling and shaking his head.

Me: “Ah, I’m sorry, someone is calling for me.”

And yes, I beat a hasty retreat.

The client was not bothering anyone and not doing anything untoward, so I left him on his quest — but I made sure to stay safely away while keeping an eye on him.

Related:
At Least It Isn’t Blue This Time

A post in Pride Month reminded me of a similar experience. I was a sixty-two-year-old woman with white hair and was conventionally dressed when this happened. I had moved into my very elderly parents’ home to take care of them. They lived in a relatively quiet, middle-class neighborhood in Queens, part of New York.

I shopped weekly in the local stores that my parents had frequented for decades. The woman who owned the bakery that I shopped in weekly was always complaining about something, usually the government and taxes.

My girlfriend/spouse “commuted” bi-monthly between our home abroad and my parents’ house. When the NY legislature passed the Marriage Equality Act in 2011, I proposed, and we got married on her next trip to NY.

On my next shopping trip, the bakery owner was complaining again about the stupid government.

Owner: “Gay marriage! Who needs gay marriage?! They should do something about…”

Me: *Interrupting* “I needed it. It enabled my long-time partner and me to get married. We’ve been together for years, and we finally have the same rights that you do.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, mouth hanging open, while the employee did all she could do to stop from cracking up and did manage to grin from ear to ear when she caught my eye. 

The owner eventually started stuttering an apology — after all, I was a good customer. I don’t think she ever got over it.

It is flu season, so we are asking elderly-looking customers who come in to get their prescription medication if they’d like to book a flu shot.

Customer: “Oh! No! No more vaccines for me!”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “I know how the government works, you see! They almost got me with that C19 vaccine!”

Yes, she said ‘C19.’ I enquire against my better judgement:

Me: “What do you mean by ‘got you’?”

Customer: “That C19 vaccine had that chemical that killed only Republicans! It’s so the government can turn the red states blue. But we won’t let them! No flu for me!” 

Honestly, after a few more flu seasons like this they’re going to all turn those states blue all by themselves!