That Tattoo Should Say, “Look, Don’t Touch”

, , , , , | Friendly | November 26, 2019

(My friend and I are killing time wandering through a local “farmer’s market”-style setup that also has some booths selling art, jewelry, and things of that sort. We stop to admire the crafts and trinkets being offered by one booth and the seller comes over to greet us. It’s worth noting here that I have several tattoos, including song lyrics on my upper left arm. I’m quite used to people asking to read what the tattoo says and will happily turn my arm so they can get a better view. This lady, however, takes a more… direct approach.) 

Seller: *seeing my tattoo* “Oh, let me see!”

(She then GRABBED my arm and twisted it toward her, holding onto it hard enough that I’m not entirely confident I could’ve yanked it out of her grip if I’d tried. As it was, though, I was shocked enough that I just froze until she’d finished reading the text and let me go. My friend and I made a hasty retreat to another booth after that. The most surprising thing is that the seller had tattoos and piercings herself, so you’d think she’d be familiar with the tattoo etiquette of ASKING before touching someone else’s tattoos. Or, you know, the general nicety of asking before touching someone at all, ever.)

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That’s What They Think Discrimination Is?!

, , , , , | Right | November 19, 2019

(It’s a slow day in my marine supply store when an older man comes in wearing a backpack. We have many signs posted saying we do not allow backpacks and other large bags into the store due to theft issues.)

Me: “We can hold onto your backpack here behind the cashier station.”

Backpack Man: *while taking off backpack* “This is the first time anybody has ever asked me to take off my backpack here.”

Me: “It’s just a policy and we do have signs posted.”

Backpack Man: “I know, but nobody has ever asked me before.”

Me: “Okay, well, I am now and I’m putting it here.” *places it in the backpack area*

(A few minutes later, I leave for lunch and forget about the guy. I’ve forgotten about backpack man and return from lunch. He shows up at my till later and buys one item of minimal value. I go through the usual cashier autopilot mode and then remember to hand him back his pack.)

Me: “All right, there you go.”

Backpack Man: “You know, I’ve been shopping here for years and nobody has ever asked me for my backpack. And just so you know! I saw four women with very large bags. If you’re going to enforce that policy you need to do it for everybody and not just discriminate against me!

Me: “Sir, I’m not discriminating against you. And I just got back from lunch and haven’t seen those ladies. Sorry they weren’t stopped by my coworkers, but I do stop everyone.”

Backpack Man: “Well, you didn’t get their bags and you’re discriminating against me!”

Me: “I’m really not. Plus, you already gave me your backpack, so I don’t get what your problem is.”

Backpack Man: “Well, what if I didn’t give you my backpack?! Then what?!”

Me: “Then we don’t let you shop here, and I take your items away.”

Backpack Man: “That’s discrimination! YOU CAN’T DISCRIMINATE AGAINST ME LIKE THAT!”

(I’m too tired to care anymore and I just tell him he can leave now. Before he leaves, a very tall lady behind him comes up and places her items on my counter, towering over the guy, and very loudly states:)

Lady: “I want you to discriminate against me right now! And if you don’t I’ll be very angry!” *turns and glares at the man*

(The backpack guy leaves after that without any more fuss, but I’m still fuming. Thankfully, that wonderful lady came to my rescue, and before she leaves, she says:)

Lady: “Also, did he even realize who he was talking to? You’re a person of color; you know all about what discrimination is. What a dumba**.”

(Bless you, lady, for understanding my daily suffering.)

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Unfiltered Story #177720

, , , | Unfiltered | November 18, 2019

(The store is pretty slow at this moment and I am putting a few carts away and have to walk past the checkstands to put them away. We have three registers but only use one unless it gets busy. At this point, there are only two people at the register.)

Customer: Are you a checker?
Me: Sometimes…
Customer: Are you open?
Me: Well I am not at a register right now so no…
Customer: Can you ring me up? They are doing WIC and I don’t want to wait. (the customer gestures at the very short line.)
Me: Okay, let me put these carts away first.
Customer: OK
(I put the carts away and the by time I come back, the line is empty, but the customer is still waiting for me at the next checkstand over. I rang her up, but I just couldn’t believe she thought she just didn’t have to wait in line like everyone else. It would have been faster for her to just get into the other line!)

We Don’t Know Who Juices Lettuce, But They’re Probably Like That

, , , , , | Right | November 17, 2019

(We have a small shelf near the cash registers with a few candies and juice boxes and all that. One day, when I’m working at the register, a lady comes charging up to me.)

Customer: *very angry* “LETTUCE JUUUICE!” 

Me: *gives confused expression* “Sorry, ma’am, what?”

Customer: *now triggered* “LETTUCE JUICE! WHERE’S MY LETTUCE JUUUUUICCEEE?!” 

Me: *thinking she’s talking about the shelf, I point to it* “Erm, ma’am—”

Customer: *slaps my hand* “NOOOO! LETTUCE JUICE!”

(I now give up and let her keep going.)

Customer: “LETTUCE JUICE! This is ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE! I’m calling corporate!” *storms out of store*

(I’ve never actually figured what she was trying to say.)

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Never, EVER Hire Her As A Babysitter

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 16, 2019

(I’m in beauty school, currently in the hairdressing program. For those who don’t know, this is a program that comes with quite a bit of equipment — everything from combs and a hairdryer to a “mannequin head” on which to practice haircuts and styles. I have a suitcase that I can fit most of my tools into, but my mannequin head doesn’t quite fit. Picture a young woman with hot pink hair carrying what is essentially a disembodied plastic head around on the bus every morning and evening. On this particular occasion I’m gathering up all my stuff to get off the bus, and I pick up my mannequin head by the hair, as that tends to be the easiest, most secure way to hang onto it. As I lift the head, the woman sitting across from me makes this cheerful comment:) 

Woman: “I like your baby!”

Me: *thinking* “It’s actually a severed head, but okay.”

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