An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 10

, , , , , | Right | February 23, 2021

I manage a coffee shop that is part of a larger company — and thus subject to corporate customer service rules — and is currently open for takeout only. We are very strict about mask-wearing: no mask, no service, and it must be worn correctly over the mouth and nose for the entire time you’re in the café. Most of our customers are good about following policy. Others… less so.

A male customer comes in with his mask tucked under his nose. It’s a quiet afternoon, so he’s the only customer at the moment. My male coworker starts to take his order and I step in.

Me: “Could you pull your mask up a little, please?”

I mime covering my nose.

Customer: “Oh, sure.”

He rolls his eyes a little but does pull his mask up. It’s not quite covering his nose properly, but it’s much better than it was, and we have a plexiglass barrier between us and him, so I consider letting it go, until he opens his mouth again to my male coworker.

Customer: “So, what did you study in college? Microbiology, some other science?”

I know where this is going already and am preparing to defend the mask policy and refuse service if I have to. He’s obviously angling to get us to agree that masks are unnecessary so he can pull it down again.

Coworker: “I mean, I took some biology classes in college and high school. But my focus was psychology.”

Customer: “Oh, so you took some science. You know how this works. You have to keep your mind sharp.”

He turns to me, sounding condescending.

Customer: “And what did you study, performance art? Marketing, liberal arts?”

Being female and/or asking him to wear his mask properly must mean I’m not capable of understanding science, apparently. I am immediately furious and don’t bother to keep my customer service voice up.

Me: “Why do you ask?”

Customer: “I’m just curious.”

I bite back the many things I would love to say if I thought I could get away with it and keep my job.

Me: “Yeah. Pull your mask up, please.”

He did. My coworker handed him his order and he left. It infuriates me that he probably walked out thinking he was right.

Related:
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 9
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 8
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 7
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 6
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 5

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A Well-Bread Agent

, , , , , , | Working | February 23, 2021

I am flying out to visit my parents several states away. My husband can’t come with me but sends a gift: a loaf of his homemade holiday bread. Since I don’t want to pack the bread in my luggage in case of loss — or crumbs — I tuck it into my carry-on bag. The security line is super-busy, and I get waved aside.

TSA Agent: “Ma’am, we’ll need to look through your bag.”

Me: “I understand.”

The agent opens the bag and lifts out the loaf, which is wrapped in foil and still faintly warm. He looks profoundly confused.

Me: “Oh, that’s holiday bread. My husband baked it.”

TSA Agent: *Taking a slow sniff* “It’s… bread.”

Me: “Yep. It’s got raisins and dried cherries in it.”

TSA Agent: *Smiling* “I’m terribly afraid I have to confiscate this.”

Me: “Confiscate some warm melted butter to put on top of it, too!”

He waved me through with a smile, and the bread got safely to my parents, who enjoyed it.

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The Mac Versus Windows Battle Rages On

, , , | Legal | February 23, 2021

I receive a phone call from an unrecognized number. I know it’s likely a scam, but I’m bored so I answer.

Scammer: “Hello, this is [Generic Caucasian Name spoken in a foreign accent] and I’m calling because we received an alert that your computer has been infected.”

Me: “Oh, no! What will I do?”

Scammer: “You have to log onto your computer immediately and I’ll remotely access it to remove it for you.”

Me: “Okay! Which computer?”

Scammer: “Your Windows computer.”

Me: “Which one?”

Scammer: “The one with Windows on it.”

Me: “I have two computers. They both have Windows on them.”

Scammer: “…”

Me: “Just kidding. I have an iMac and MacBook. Can I still get a Windows bug, though?”

He hung up.

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Those Hoodlums Just Love To Steal The Flannels

, , , | Right | February 23, 2021

I used to work at a craft store but left to work at another company. I’m still friends with a lot of the employees and still do sewing projects, so I’m in often. I also have several piercings and two full-sleeve tattoos.

I’m talking with a friend while they’re cutting my fabric and a customer storms over.

Customer: “Oh, just move her s*** and serve me! She’s just gonna steal all of this, anyway!”

Friend: “Ma’am, you need to wait.”

Customer: “No, I don’t! She’s just some punk b****!”

I just look at this woman making a scene in public.

Friend: “Ma’am, I’m gonna call my manager.”

Customer: “JUST CUT MY D*** FABRIC!”

She suddenly yanks what I’ve had cut already off the counter and throws it on the floor. She slams her bolts down, barely missing my hand.

Friend: “Yeah, no.”

She calls the manager. When the manager arrives, the customer glares at me.

Customer: “This b**** is just trying to get me banned! I want her out!”

The manager laughs.

Manager: “Her? I doubt it. She’s never caused trouble here before. You, on the other hand, have. Every single time you’re in.”

Customer: “But… she’s gonna steal! That’s all these punk kids do!”

Me: “Ma’am, if you’re gonna judge on appearance, then expect to be wrong.”

Customer: “SEE?! SHE’S HARASSING ME!”

Manager: “All right, I’ve had enough. I’m asking you to leave.”

Customer: “YOU CAN’T KICK ME OUT! I’M A PAYING CUSTOMER!”

Manager: “You’re harassing a customer, you’ve made it a habit, and you’re causing a scene in the store. Leave.”

After yelling about how I am a thief, she finally leaves. The manager looks back at me.

Manager: “[My Name], I’m giving you half off of your total… as long as you don’t steal.”

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Some People Are A Real Mystery

, , , , | Right | February 23, 2021

I am browsing the mystery section of a used bookstore and I pick up a book by an author I really like. The lady browsing beside me takes notice of the book I’ve picked up: a cozy mystery about a member of a knitting club being accused of murder. I should point out that I am twenty-two years old. I am also barely five feet tall and have what I call “baby cheeks,” making me appear younger.

The lady speaks to me as though speaking to a small child.

Lady: “Oh, sweetie, you don’t want that book. That book’s for big girls.”

I look around for a little girl, see no one else in that section, and realize that she is talking to me.

Me: “Uh, excuse me?”

Lady: “That book you’re holding. I know it has cute little kitties on the cover, but it’s a grown-up book. I’ve read it, and it’s full of mean people and scary things.”

I am completely dumbfounded. I have often been mistaken for a teenager, but a little kid? That’s a new one. It really doesn’t help that I am wearing a low-cut top and have rather large breasts. I don’t know how she could have missed that.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m twenty-two. Besides, I’ve read the other books in the series, and—”

Lady: “Do you want me to take you to the children’s section? You’ll find lots of great books there!”

The worst part is that I can tell that this lady is sincere; she seems to genuinely believe that I am a small child. I’m so confused that I don’t even react when she takes the book out of my hands, puts it back on the shelf, and takes a few steps away, trying to get me to follow her. I finally snap out of it, still wondering if I’ve somehow entered the Twilight Zone, and grab the book again.

The lady smiles like I’m an adorable toddler.

Lady: “Ah, sweetie—”

I had meant to look around some more, but at this point, I just want to get my book and get out. I fast-walk to the checkout, the lady following me the whole way, chastising me even as I pay! I don’t know what my face looks like, but it must be enough for the cashier to have some idea of what is going on. I should also mention that the cashier is a pretty big guy.

Cashier: *Leaning in and whispering* “Want me to block the door?”

Me: *Relieved* “Thank you.”

I slipped a few dollars in the tip jar and bolted the moment he gave me my book and receipt. I got in my car as fast as I could. I saw the cashier watching me, the crazy lady still trying to get past him. He didn’t move until my car left the parking lot. Thank you, cashier, for saving me from whatever that was. I did enjoy the book, by the way.

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