, , , , , , | Friendly | March 17, 2019

For several years I lived directly above a pub. It was incredibly noisy, but I loved being able to watch people coming and going. There were frequently stag dos dressed in elaborate fancy dress, such as blue body paint to look like Smurfs or mascot costumes.

Around midday on a Saturday, I suddenly heard a very loud horn blast followed by cheering from the pub. I looked out my window to see a man in a full fox costume, including a giant head and tail, sprinting down the street. He was soon followed by a yelling group of men, half dressed as dogs and half wearing tweed suits, high socks, and caps and running with children’s toy stick horses between their legs. One man carried a bugle and repeatedly blew on it as the group ran down the street after the fox, presumably going to the next pub.

A Garbage Excuse

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 16, 2019

(A guy on the bus throws some garbage on the ground.)

Me: “Do you really need to do that?”

Guy: “Huh?”

Me: “Throw your garbage on the ground? It’s really inconsiderate.”

Guy: “It might be inconsiderate, but think of it this way: if nobody did it, there would be no jobs.”

Me: “That’s really not true… like, really not true.”

Guy: “It might not be true, but you can see where I’m coming from.”

Me: “I really can’t. It’s just plain rude.”

Guy: “Okay, sorry about that.”

(He still didn’t pick it up, and he kept apologizing the rest of the time he was on the bus. He didn’t even use the thing he was unwrapping; he just threw it back in his bag!)

Change The Stall, And Their Attitudes

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 15, 2019

(I have a disability that is invisible quite a lot of the time but does mean that I need to use the accessible toilet when out in public. I’ve come directly from work to meet a friend for dinner and I’m still wearing my uniform. I walk through the back half of the dining room to use the restroom, passing a table of four women on the way, one of whom has a baby in her lap. This occurs a moment after I’ve sat down.)

Someone: *rattles door*

Me: “Occupied.”

Someone: *knock knock knock knock*

Me: “Yes, just one moment.”

(I complete my business and leave the stall to find nobody there. As I am finishing washing my hands, the lady holding the baby comes into the bathroom with a female manager. The female manager asks if I was just using the accessible stall and I confirm that I was. I suspect at this point I know where this was going — those of us with invisible disabilities face this nonsense regularly — but I really have no clue the turn it will take.)

Manager: “In the future, please leave that stall for those who need it. It also has the changing table, and this lady—” *points to the woman with the baby, who is silently but visibly seething* “—needed to change her baby.”

Me: “I needed it, actually.” *gives boring medical history*

Manager: *looking surprised* “Oh, I’m sorry. Of course—“

Woman:No!  Do not apologize to her! I needed to change my baby!

Manager: “Ma’am, she had a reason to use that stall. We—”

Woman: *sneering and turning red in the face* “THAT STALL IS FOR MOTHERS! SHE’S OBVIOUSLY NOT A MOTHER! LOOK! SHE WORKS!” *gestures toward my uniform*

(As someone who has always wanted children and can’t have them, that is enough for me, and I walk out while the manager is still trying to calm the woman down. I have to pass the table with the woman’s three friends, who stare at me as I am passing. Just as I get past the one sitting on the far side, she gets brave.)

Woman #2: “Yeah, she needed that changing table.”

Me: *completely done, stopping dead and walking back to a table of women who are now all tense and not so smug* “AND I NEEDED THE ACCESSIBLE STALL, SO MAYBE TELL THE RESTAURANT TO TAKE THE CHANGING TABLE OUT OF THE STALL AND PUT IT ON THE WALL ACROSS FROM THE SINKS!”

(I walked back to my table, where my friend jokingly asked if I’d fallen in, as I’d been gone so long and he had no idea what had happened. We paid our tab and left. Two months later, when I returned to the restaurant, the changing table had been moved out of the accessible stall.)

Hips Don’t Lie, And They’re Telling Me She’s A B****

, , , , | Friendly | March 14, 2019

(I have bad hips due to working too hard as a mail deliverer, meaning I had to quit my job and can only take desk jobs now. My bad hips are worst in winter, but in summer I can be lucky and have less pain. I take the tram home and it’s rush hour. A woman and I both enter the tram at the same time via different doors and reach a single empty chair. I reach it slightly before her. Since my hips are being nice to me, I decide to stand for a while and offer this seat to the sweet old lady before me.)

Me: “Feel free to take this seat, ma’am.”

Lady: “You’d better! I was here first!”

Me: *ticked off* “Well, pardon me for offering you this seat, ma’am!”

(The old lady huffs while she sits down and I take a standing spot. And what do you know, my hips start acting up and the pain slowly increases with time. Meanwhile, the old lady keeps on staring at me, giving me a stink eye. After a few stops, a seat finally empties and I can take that seat. A few stops after that, the old lady leaves, but not before stopping at my seat.)

Lady: “Well, are you sitting nicely now, at your own little seat?!”

Me: “Ma’am, this is saying more about you than it does about me.”

Lady: “Yes, it does! It says you are a rude little b****! You must be very proud of yourself!”

(She leaves the tram in a huff.)

Other Woman: “What was that all about?!”

Me: “Oh, I offered my seat to her and she told me off.”

Other Woman: “Pwah! She’s lucky she even had a chair! If she was this rude to me, I would have taken that chair and let her stand. Would’ve probably taught her some humility!”

Not Up-Lifting Examples Of Humanity

, , , , , | Friendly | March 13, 2019

One summer I fell over quite badly, resulting in a severely sprained ankle. For about two months I was on crutches, with my lower left leg encased in a solid, bulky, black boot for support and protection. I had physio appointments at the city centre hospital, after which I usually went to the food court in the shopping centre on my way home.

This shopping centre has two main levels with stairs, escalators, and lifts between them both. The food court is on the first floor, overlooking an entertainment and display area on the ground floor. I couldn’t handle stairs at that time, for obvious reasons, and I was wary of trying to go up the escalators on crutches, as well. This meant I had to use the lifts, an experience I usually try to avoid.

One time, I went to the lift nearest the entrance where I came into the shopping centre. I was tired and wanted to sit down, and I knew there were seats near the lift upstairs. There were about half a dozen parents with pushchairs waiting to use a lift that can carry four at a time, so I knew I’d have to wait. The first group went up, and while waiting for it to come back down another pair of pushchair-wielding mothers joined us.

When the lift opened again, these new arrivals physically pushed me out of the way in order to get in the lift first. “Mothers before cripples,” one announced, with the other rebutting, “She’s probably faking it, anyway.” The lift was gone before I could get back up off the floor.

On another post-physio visit, I decided to use the lift nearer the food court. Like the other lift, it can hold four pushchairs with accompanying adults. There was only one pushchair waiting when I limped over. The lift arrived, disgorged its occupants, and the man with the pushchair got in and immediately turned the pushchair sideways across the entrance. He was completely blocking it, preventing me from getting in the lift myself. He didn’t explain himself or say anything; he just blocked me from getting into the lift so he could have it to himself.

After those two incidents, I started coming into the centre via the street entrance of one of the shops, and using their lifts to get up to the first floor instead of hoping that the centre lifts would be usable first time.

Page 2/9612345...Last