I’m both black and foreign, and I’m living in Spain. I went to a bus stop where a woman was sitting, and I casually sat down in the seat next to her. She immediately bounced up and walked several paces away from me, yelling, “Can I not have two seconds without some [racial insult] trying to get at me? What is wrong with you people?”

Here we go again, nothing new here. I pulled out my phone and pretended to be more interested in it than her ranting.

Woman: “Why are you even here, anyway? Did someone invite you? How would you like it if everyone in my country went and flooded your country and took up all your jobs and got your women pregnant and made a bunch of mixed kids, and none of us speak your language?”

I kept ignoring her.

She continued this rant for a good five minutes before suddenly growing quiet. She stayed quiet briefly before reaching into a shopping bag she had, removing a juice bottle, and trying to remove the cap. After twisting futilely, she got a look of defeat on her face. She slowly handed the bottle to me.

Woman: “Can you open my bottle, please? I’m feeling really dizzy.”

I gave her an ice-cold look at first, but then I decided to be the bigger person. I opened the bottle and silently handed it back.

Woman: “Thank you.”

She sat down and then spoke again after a few moments of silence.

Woman: “I’m sorry. I lost my job because of the health crisis, and I found out they gave my position to a Japanese girl who wasn’t even there for six months. I’m just so mad.”

Me: “Sorry to hear that. But blaming me for your problem isn’t going to solve anything.”

Woman: “I’m sorry.”

My bus eventually rolled up, and as I boarded and rolled away, I couldn’t help but notice the woman burying her face in her lap. It was interesting to hear from the other side of racism and bigotry, and to see one of the many pieces of the puzzle — this instance being misplaced anger.

We were about halfway through our self-catering holiday and we found a fantastic café; the food was good, the prices were very cheap, and the staff was lovely!

Tipping isn’t customary in the UK, and not knowing what the locals do, I tipped around 15-20% on our meal.

We ended up coming back several times, and we tipped every time, as the service was faultless. We reckon we saved as much as we were tipping going to the bigger restaurant, so everyone was happy.

On our last day, we couldn’t think of anywhere we would rather eat but our favourite little cafe. The bill came and the waitress told us, in broken English, that our bill had been discounted by the manager.

It was a generous discount. Unfortunately, as we had quite a lot of small euro bills to use up, I ended up emptying what I had left; it paid for the bill in full and another tip.

The waitress seemed very confused, probably about the strange English family who didn’t understand a discount.

I work in a lab, and part of my job is to process biohazard residue to be safely discarded. I am at my workstation when a coworker comes by.

Coworker: “Could you please come and take one of the residue bins? It does not have a lid, so I cannot close it.”

We tell the cleaning staff not to touch those bins unless they are absolutely clean and with the lid properly snapped shut, so I follow my coworker.

Me: “How come you do not have lids to close the bin? Are there none left?”

Coworker: “Yes, there are some, but the bin I am talking about is square-shaped.”

That is odd, because the room that is assigned the square bins is one floor above us. Thinking that maybe the cleaning staff made a mistake, I say nothing else. When we arrive at the lab, my coworker points to a lidless bin… that is round-shaped.

Me: “Uh… That is not a square bin.”

Coworker: “No, but none of the round lids fit it.”

I take a random round lid, put it on the bin, and press down. It snaps shut immediately. I look at my coworker.

Me: “You do see that I just closed it, right?”

She stares at me with a blank look.

Coworker: “Yeah… but that is not its lid.”

Me: “Lids are interchangeable. All the round lids fit all the round bins.”

Coworker: “Yeah, I know. But that is not its lid.”

She keeps staring at me as if that is the most logical explanation possible. I simply take the bin and go for the door.

Coworker: “But that is not its lid! Thank you!”

Hey, at least she said, “Thank you!”

I am travelling for business: a supplier day-visit turned into a week-long event. It isn’t the holiday people think; I see the inside of a factory until it is dark, sleep in a hotel, wake, and go straight to the factory again. It isn’t fun. I barely sleep, and all the work I would be doing is waiting for me when I get back.

The hotel is pretty nice, at least. The rooms are okay and the food okay, but the staff try way too hard. I constantly have to stop them from topping up my drinks and even bringing me food I haven’t ordered. They still expect me to pay, and it all goes through work. I get a big telling-off if I spend or drink too much.

One afternoon, I return to the room to find the clothes I had laid out for the next day arranged with the towels into an animal. It’s late, but I stay up to re-iron everything again for the morning. On my way out the following morning, I stop by the front desk.

Me: “Sorry, but could housekeeping please not arrange my clothes?”

Receptionist: “Sorry?”

Me: “The towel animals — please don’t do that anymore. My clothes were creased and folded.”

Receptionist: “It’s all part of the service.”

Me: “Yes, but I… Look, please stop.”

Receptionist: “Oh, okay. I will let them know.”

I get back again, late. My room has not been cleaned and the toiletries are empty. I go down to reception, thinking there has been a mistake.

Me: “My room hasn’t been cleaned. Can I get some toiletries, please?.”

The receptionist checks her computer.

Receptionist: “You asked for housekeeping to not replace the towels?”

Me: “Yes, not for the room to be cleaned. Can I get some toiletries?”

Receptionist: “Sorry, we asked them not to do your room as you asked.”

I gave up. Her English was perfect but she couldn’t understand that I didn’t want people messing with what was clearly my work stuff. I couldn’t get them to clean my room, so I ended up buying what I needed instead. I made sure work knew not to book there again.

Back in the early 2000s, I return some DVDs I’ve borrowed from my university library’s media counter. A few days later, I try to borrow some books from the main counter, but I’m told that there’s a block on my account because I didn’t return some DVDs. I say I did return them, and they ask me to speak to someone at the media counter.

Me: “Hi. According to the system, I didn’t return [DVDs], but I think whoever was working the desk when I returned them forgot to scan them or something.”

Librarian: “And I’m supposed to just believe you?”

Me: *Shocked* “Or… You could check if the DVDs are in the drawers behind you?”

Librarian: “Oh! Right.”

They were there. She didn’t say another word or even apologize. She just looked very embarrassed while she made sure to scan each DVD.

Related:
The Contrarian Librarian Runs Out Of Time
The Contrarian Librarian: The Childhood Years
Softening Of The Contrarian Librarian
The Contrarian Librarian: Looking For Work
Re-emergence Of The Contrarian Librarian