I’m the author of “Totally Speechless“. Remember that I am mute.

One day, I went to the mall with my friend, who is deaf. We were having lunch in the food court and signing to each other when a woman walked past and dropped this gem.

Woman: “You f****** invalids shouldn’t be in public.”

She didn’t even keep her voice down. She just casually said it as she walked by, obviously under the assumption that neither of us would hear it.

My friend saw how mad I was and signed in question. I keep a pen and notepad in my purse in case I need to say something that cannot be conveyed with hand gestures.

After writing my message, I excused myself and walked up to the woman, who was waiting in line for her own lunch. She seemed very confused by my approach. I handed her the note.

Note: “Hi. My voice may not work, but my ears do. Would you like me to relay what you just said to my fellow f****** invalid?”

The woman turned bright red and stammered an apology before scurrying away, dropping the note. When I got back to my table, I explained the situation to my friend and showed her the note. We had a good laugh about it.

Related:
Totally Speechless

I am sitting at the train station, waiting inside before going to catch my bus. A man comes up to me, and I know he’ll beg for money as I recognise him.

Man: “Can you spare some money?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry.”

Not only am I a student with very little income, but I also do not have any cash as cash isn’t valid in most stores anymore.

Man: “Please, I need some money.”

Me: “I don’t have any cash, sorry.”

Man: “I know you do!”

This goes back and forth a couple of times, and I am starting to feel threatened as he hangs closer and closer over me. I don’t know why, but I end up taking out my wallet, opening it, and showing him that I have no cash whatsoever.

Me: “See, no cash!”

Man: *Pointing at my debit card* “You can take out money and give me.”

I hurriedly put my wallet back into my bag.

Me: “No, you can’t take out bills less than a hundred.”

Man: “You can give me that!

Me: “No!”

Having gotten my things in order, I stood up and hurried away, with him yelling after me that I had money. The truth was that if I had given him 100, I’d have given him more than a third of the money in my account.

I have later understood from others who try to get me to give money to charity that I look like someone who has money. My coat apparently looks expensive; however, I got it on sale, and the price was lowered further because the pocket was damaged and had to be sewn. My jewellery, which costs less than 100 SEK (around 10 USD or 8 GBP), apparently looks like it should cost at least a thousand. It’s made of plastic!

I am quite tired of people trying to guilt me for not giving of what little I have to every poor person and charity out there, but he will always be remembered as the scariest one.

I live in Los Angeles, so there are lots of people here trying to “make it” in the entertainment industry, whatever that means for them. Most people start by trying to find events to network, etc. However some people… take a different approach. 

I was just standing at a crosswalk when a woman with a guitar slung over her shoulder came running up to me. 

Woman: “Hey! Do you know anyone in the music industry?!”

Me: “Uh… no?”

Woman: “Oh. Well, who do you know who does?!”

She stormed off before I could answer. I was completely taken off guard and bewildered, but I guess that’s one way to do it!

CONTENT WARNING: Harassment/Stalking
 

When I was in college in my early twenties, after classes, I went grocery shopping for my mother. As always when I’m outside, I was listening to music full-blast and kept daydreaming, which is why it took me some time to notice the white van that kept driving until it was next to me and stopping when it reached me — rinse and repeat until I noticed the driver.

The guy, once he had my attention, made kissing gestures and started licking his lips while looking me dead in the eyes. Very peeved at the unwanted attention, I crossed the road in front of his truck and dived into the store. Once in the shop, I shrugged the encounter off as another creep that I wished I’d never meet again, and I started browsing, still listening to my favourite tunes.

As I was looking through the store aisle for the Items I needed, something caught my eye. It was the creep.

He. Actually. Followed me. Into the store.

Astonished by the audacity of the guy, I took out an earbud.

Me: “What the h***?!”

Creep: “Hi, miss. I saw you outside, and I tried getting your attention. Didn’t you see me?”

Me: “…”

After an awkward silence, he kept going.

Creep: “Yeah… So… I’d like to get to know you better. You wanna go out for a drink?”

It took a few seconds for me to process what was happening. Creeps were nothing new, but this guy was on another level. Then, I started smiling the sweetest smile I could.

Me: “Oh, so sorry, but I don’t think my wife will agree. She’s the jealous type, you know?”

Creep: *Disgusted* “Your wife?!”

And with a revulsed look, he finally left me alone.

While I was glad to be left alone, I was angry with myself. The a**hole was in his company’s van, and I didn’t think of taking a picture of him or at least writing down the name of the company to complain to them and get the guy fired.

My best friend had a good laugh at the story. I’m not a lesbian (I’m ace), but it worked so well that we decided that if either of us had that kind of trouble again, we’d call one another and play lovebirds. The trick is still very efficient ten years later.

This is my favorite car accident. A snowstorm had just begun, and the roads were unplowed and slippery. I had just stopped behind a car stopped at a red light. A few seconds later, I was rear-ended — not very hard, but with the slippery snow, I was pushed into the bumper of the car in front of me.

I got out. It was dark and snowing. A teenage girl was getting out of the car that had hit me, and she looked scared. I looked at the bumper of the car in front of me, and they had gotten off without a scratch.

A middle-aged woman got out of the car I had been pushed into, and just as I opened my mouth to tell her the good news, she started a non-stop, barely coherent screaming rage at me. I won’t try to recreate it, but among many swearwords, phrases like, “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” and, “I’LL SEE THAT YOU NEVER DRIVE AGAIN IN YOUR LIFE!” were bellowed.

Meanwhile, the teen was now literally cowering behind me as this woman just laid into me.

The thing about me — and this helped me when I worked in customer service— is that I find adults throwing temper tantrums (especially unjustified ones) extremely amusing. In retail, I had to try not to laugh out loud, but I had no such restraints in this situation.

I just lost it, full-out howling, doubled-over, can’t-breathe laughing at this woman. When I finally got control of myself, she had stopped yelling and was looking at me like she wanted me dead.

Woman: “You think this is funny?”

I stepped to the side and pointed at the teen this woman had not even noticed in her rage.

Me: “I think you want to talk to the young woman who rear-ended me and pushed my car into yours?”

To say this woman’s face turned as red as a ripe tomato would be an understatement. She finally looked at her car for any damage and saw the same thing I had.

Woman: *Mumbling* “There’s no damage…”

And then, she hopped into her car and drove away, never to be seen again.

It turned out that the teen had just gotten her license and was driving her father’s car. I drove a beat-up old VW Rabbit, and I couldn’t tell the dent she’d put in the rear from any of the existing dents in that beater.

Me: “You got lucky. I don’t need to take your information or report the accident.”

Teenager: “What should I do?”

Me: “Drive the car home to your dad and tell him what happened. It’s snowing and slippery so, hopefully, he’ll take that into account. Then, he’ll decide if he wants to leave the damage, pay for it to be fixed out of pocket, or go through his insurance.”

I guess that middle-aged woman and I just have different ways of dealing with strangers who run into our cars.

And that’s my favorite accident.