When I bought my current car in 1997, my husband (boyfriend at the time) and I had a bet going that the car salesman would approach him first. Alas, he got sick, and because I really needed a car and couldn’t wait for him to get well, I went car shopping by myself.

To the car salesman’s credit, he never once inquired about a husband or any other male relative.

Then, the manager started talking about add-ons — rustproofing, extended warranty, etc. When he got to the “rustproofing” part, I asked:

Me: “Do you really think we need rustproofing around here?”

I lived in a part of California with dry weather and never any snow. The manager just looked at me and closed the binder.

Manager: “You’re right.”

The car I bought was a 1995 Geo Metro, and I’m still driving it today.

I used to work for one of the major home printer companies, representing them at a big box retailer on the weekends. A few of our competitors also had representatives in the stores on weekends doing the same thing, with all of us vying for the attention of the same customers.

Probably the best competitor we had in terms of photo quality — so maybe hardest for me to sell against when they had a good representative in the store — got a new representative who was a pretty slick guy in his mid-twenties.

He was decent at the job, but he preferred to game the system in any way he could more than actually doing the job. This included going to a completely different store he wasn’t contracted at, writing down their serial numbers, and reporting them as his sales. He would also just peace out in general to go to a birthday party or whatever.

The store employees didn’t care one way or the other, so the only risk was that his field manager would stop by while he was out. We exchanged phone numbers, and I agreed to cover for him and text him if his manager ever came by. I couldn’t have been happier to help my competitor get away with not competing with me.

Sure enough, one day, someone wearing a company shirt showed up.

Manager: “Do you know where [Representative] is?”

Me: “Oh, sure. He literally just left for lunch before you got here. He should be back within thirty minutes.”

I texted him, and he managed to hightail it over and check in within time, and his manager was none the wiser. He kept his job, and I maintained one less serious competitor to worry about.

It’s Black Friday, and I’m doing my duty to keep our consumerist culture happy. As I’m meandering down the aisles to finish my list, a guy flags me down and says, “Hello, miss…” 

I stop, thinking he’s going to ask about the s’mores kits in my cart. (I’ve had several people ask about them already.) 

Guy: “What kind of wireless service do you have?” 

I finally notice that he’s stationed by a booth for a local cable company that offers Internet, crammed among the merchandise. Their salesmen are really pushy and won’t take “no” for an answer. 

Me: “None of your business.” 

The guy stared at me for a solid two minutes with his jaw hanging open as I walked away. I don’t like salesmen harassing me on a normal day, let alone on the busiest shopping day of the year and after my coffee has worn off.

For the record, I am a woman, and I’m the one in charge of the Internet service and bills of the house. I’m also a programmer and gamer. My partner is a man.

One night, our doorbell rings at home, and I open the door.

Man: “Hello. Is [Partner] home?”

Me: “Yes.”

Man: “Can you call him?”

I do.

Man: *To my partner* “Which Internet provider do you have? How much are you paying?”

Partner: “That’s not something I handle. That’s her.” *Gestures to me*

Man: “Oh. In that case, I think she can listen to our talk, as well.”

By now, I considered this the first strike. He has learned that the Internet in the house was under my name, but I can still only listen.

Also, sadly, my partner wants to keep him going, while I would have shut the salesman down way earlier.

Man: “Do you know that your Internet price is now [amount] and will be [higher amount] starting next year?”

Me: “Wrong. I have the contract here, and these are the values we have now and will have next year.”

Man: “No, that can’t be right. That’s a good deal.”

Partner: “Yeah, she knew how to negotiate with them.”

We go back and forth about three times; he doesn’t believe the prices we have, even though I’ve shown him the contract.

Strike two.

Man: “And what speed do you have?”

Me: “500 Mb.”

Man: “Hmm, I don’t have anything to offer with that speed. But if you lower the speed, you can get a cheaper price.”

Well, duh!

Me: “Not interested.”

Man: *To my partner* “Are you a gamer?”

Partner: “Yes.”

Man: “But probably you can get by with a bit of a slower connection.”

Partner: *Pointing at me* “Again, she handles that.”

Man: *Very condescending* “Why do you need such speed? Obviously, you don’t need that.”

Strike three.

Me: “I am also a gamer! We both work from home. If we both want to play online, 250 Mb makes us lag in games.”

Man: *Very shocked and frustrated* “Oh, well… then I can’t really offer you anything. But remember my offer for next year.”

And then he finally goes away.

Partner: “Why was he so fixated on talking with me?”

Me: “Welcome to being a woman when it comes to technology.”

One thing is for sure: we won’t even consider that provider if I can’t negotiate a good contract with my current provider.

Customer: “So, if these are 10% off, if I buy ten, then they’re free?”

Me: “No, that’s not how it works. It’s 10% off of your total.”

Customer: “But ten times ten is a hundred. So that’s 100% off, which is free.”

Me: “No, because following that logic, if you bought eleven then that would be 110% off, which means we’d be giving you money.”

Customer: “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that.”

Me: “Yeah, I—”

Customer: “So, how much would you give me if I got eleven?”

Me: “…”