I’m a cis female. I go with some friends of mine to an LGBT bar to celebrate my friend’s birthday, and we’re all dressed up for it. The bar is also a popular place for LGBT people to hook up. I’m at the bar to order a drink when another woman approaches me.

Woman: “Hey, listen, you’re really cute. I know you’re here with a group of people, but do you want to hang out with me, instead? See where the night goes?”

Me: “Thanks, but I’m not interested.”

The woman very quickly gets put out.

Woman: “Wait, are you straight?! Because these bars are supposed to be a safe place for gay people.”

Me: “One, I’m not making it any less safe. Two, I’m not straight.”

Woman: “You’re not straight?”

Me: “No.”

Woman: “But you’re not a lesbian?”

Me: “Bit of a jump from ‘not interested’ to ‘not a lesbian,’ but no. And I’m not bi, either, before you guess.”

The woman is looking very confused by this point, but the bartender who is returning with my drink nods to my wallet: a flag made of black, grey, white, and purple stripes.

Bartender: “She’s ace, love.”

Me: “Aromantic, as well. Shoot for the moon if you want, honey, but you’re going to be lucky if you make it to Wollongong.”

But seriously, who sees that someone who is clearly there with a group of friends and celebrating, and decides, “Surely this individual will want to hook up!”?

It is my brother’s tenth birthday, and we’ve decided to hold a surprise party. My dad wants everyone out of the house so he can set it up, so while my mom takes my brother and his friends to the movies, I take my seven-year-old sister to the toy store to buy a present. My sister is an above-the-knee amputee. We are in the board games area when a little boy walks up to us.

Boy: “Wow! Do you have a robotic leg or something? That’s so cool! How does it work? Do you send your brainwaves down and control it, or are you like a cyborg or an android or something?”

Sister: “No, it’s not a robot. It’s just kind of… there.”

Boy: “How does it work, then?”

Sister: “I just move my thigh, and then the mechanical knee and leg move with it.”

Boy: “Oh, that’s cool. Do you go to [Elementary School]?”

My sister nods.

Boy: “Are you gonna be in third grade in September?”

My sister nods.

Boy: “Oh, cool! So am I! I just moved here from [State], and it’s really cool here. My name is [Boy]. What’s yours?”

Sister: “[Sister].”

The boy’s grandmother comes in.

Grandmother: “Are you making friends, [Boy]? That’s good. It’s good to make friends before the school year.”

She pauses, and then she realizes my sister has a prosthetic leg.

Grandmother: “Now, dear, remember what I told you about people like her. You don’t want to be friends with people like her, or else you’ll end up wearing noise-cancelling headphones and with two r*****ed legs.”

Me: “I don’t really think you understand how physical disabilities work. I don’t think you understand how disabilities work at all.”

Grandmother: “I’ll tell you what I do understand. If my daughter turned out r*****ed, I’d have her put up for adoption rather than poison the rest of the family. You seem like a sensible teenage boy; you understand.”

My sister looks like she’s about to cry.

Me: “Well, someone did put her up for adoption. They didn’t want a girl missing one leg. But we adopted her, and she’s the best little sister I could have ever had. Adopting her is the best decision our parents made.”

Grandmother: “You know what?! I don’t need to put up with this. Come on, dear. We’ll get your toys somewhere else where there aren’t so many r*****s.”

Boy: “Bye, [Sister]! See you at school!”

Grandmother: “And I’ll be having a talk with your mother about what types of people you make friends with.”

My sister is pretty upset about the whole situation, but I am able to calm her down enough that we can buy the present.

Manager: “Is that card game for you?”

My sister shakes her head.

Manager: “Oh, I see. In that case, I’m going to do something that I don’t do very often. I only do this for the most awesome customers, but I think you’ve shown that you’re one of them. I’m going to give you a $10 gift card for our store. You can go now and buy anything you want for $10 in this store, and then you come here and I’ll activate the card for you. Sound good?”

My sister was shocked at first but soon became extremely elated at the gift. She was so excited that, even on the bus ride home after buying her gift, she wouldn’t stop talking. The gift really did a great deal for her mood and to cheer her up after what the woman had said. She didn’t ever end up becoming great friends with the boy, but she told me she talked to him once or twice and he said that his grandmother is no longer allowed to be alone with him or his cousins.

This story is part of our Best Of August 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of August 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of August 2021 roundup!

My city’s public transit system has had a rule since mid-2020 that people have to wear masks on the buses and trains. There are signs on each bus and train and at all train stations and the major bus stations, and there are automated announcements played while riding the bus and train explaining this. However, some people argue with the drivers about it. In May 2021, I overheard the most bizarre “reasoning” yet.

Woman: “I don’t need a mask; I’m already blind!”

I was midway down the bus while she was yelling at the driver, so I might have misheard her. She might have actually said, “I’m already black,” though if she was then her skin was light enough that it was not obvious, but neither of those things gives immunity to the contagious illness that caused the health crisis, as far as I’m aware.

Due to renovations made by the prior owner, the front door of our house is partially blocked on the inside, so we use the side door. We have gone so far as to put a large storage cabinet on the porch directly in front of the door and have posted a sign directing people to use the side door. We’ve never really had a problem.

I am puttering around in the kitchen when I hear a sharp pounding on the front door. I quickly finish pulling food from the oven, all while the pounding continues in a firm, steady beat. Our kitchen is right by the side door, so I exit and circle around to the stairs at the end of the front porch, where I find a well-dressed lady pounding on the door. She has obviously moved our large storage cabinet away from the door, and her face is roughly six inches away from our large sign directing people to the side door, but she is just pounding away on the door.

Me: “Can I help you?”

The woman glances at me before very obviously turning away in dismissal and continuing to pound on the door.

Me: “Ma’am, that door is blocked. Like the sign says, we use the side door.”

She doesn’t even bother to look at me, just continuing to pound on the front door. I am getting a bit steamed at the incessant banging and her ignoring me.

Me: *Stepping up onto the porch* “Oi! That door isn’t—”

At that point, she spun to face me, her face shifting from boredom to looking terrified, and she dashed to and vaulted over the railing of our porch, sailing over the bushes to land on the lawn, and sprinted for her car. I honestly have no idea how she managed to stick the landing when she was wearing heels, but she made it and proceeded to peel out and speed off down the street.

For my part, I grunted and heaved to shift the storage cabinet back into position — I seriously don’t know how a woman matching my size and build was able to drag it away without making any noise — and then headed back in to finish preparing dinner.

I’m finally catching up with a friend, now we are allowed to meet up outside. We walk around a local park chatting, and it seems that there are lots of people with the same idea.

I suggest grabbing a drink from the stall.

Friend: “Can I get a lemonade?”

Me: “I’ll have a diet cola.”

Cashier: “Oh, sorry, we don’t have any. Oh, wait! The last one.”

Me: “Lucky me.”

I pay for us and we turn to leave, but a woman next in line steps in front of us, her hands on her hips.

Woman: “Err, excuse me. I don’t think what you did was very respectful of others.”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “You! You took the last diet soda! Some of us are trying to lose weight, you know!”

She turns to what looks like her mother.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I like the flavour. I don’t like the regular one.”

Woman: *Dramatic sighing* “Oh, he doesn’t like the flavour. Well, what am I supposed to drink?”

I’m not very good with confrontation. I’m half-thinking about just going home when my friend speaks up.

Friend: “[Woman]?”

Woman: “What?”

Friend: “Your name is [Woman], isn’t it?”

Woman: “So what?”

Friend: “I recognise you; you used to bully us all back in school. Looks like not much has changed there. Still a nasty piece of work, huh?”

Woman: “I don’t know you.”

Friend: “Good, keep it that way. You’re not worth the breath.”

Woman: “Give me the soda!”

Friend: “Oh, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. F*** you, [Woman]. You can’t bully anyone anymore.” *To me* “Come on. We still have lots to catch up on.”

We had a great time after that. It turns out that [Woman] really was a nasty piece of work and made a lot of people’s lives h***. She kept on bullying people until she couldn’t keep a job or even a social media account.