(I am a ‘meter maid.’ My job is to ticket cars that have not paid for their meter. I am putting a ticket on a parked car when the driver, a big, long-haired guy, comes up to me, furious. His mousy little wife is following him but is very quiet. He yells at me that he was only parked ‘for two minutes’ and I have no business giving him a ticket.)

Me: “Sir, I have been on this block for ten minutes so I know that your car has been here longer than that.”

Driver: “How dare you call me a liar! I just pulled up here and went inside to get change and pick up my wife. Can’t you even give an honest person a break!”

(He’s looming over me and rather intimidating, I’m wondering if he’s going to actually hit me, when suddenly, his wife steps right in front of me and starts yelling at him.)

Wife: “How dare YOU! She’s just doing her job and you’re yelling at her because you screwed up! You know full well you could have put money in the meter but you were just trying to be cheap. You apologize to her right now and take your ticket like a grownup!”

(He looked absolutely stunned and froze completely. She glared at him until he muttered “Sorry” and wouldn’t meet my eyes. She then apologized calmly to me and held out her hand for the ticket. I let her off with a warning!)

(I grew up across the street from a family of seven kids; I was best friends with their youngest. Their second oldest was born with cerebral palsy. Although the doctors at the time urged his parents to institutionalize him, they ignored them and treated him like all the other kids. He had a severe speech impediment, and had to walk with a cane, but his brain was fine, and he was just one of the gang. He was never allowed to use his disability to get away with anything. One day, I am over playing with my friend, and her brother is sitting in the living room watching TV. As we go back and forth through the house, he tries to trip us with his cane, every. Single. Time. Finally, after about the sixth time, his sister grabs his cane and puts it in his bedroom two rooms away, and we bolt. He has to make his way very, very slowly down the hall to his room, holding onto the wall the whole way. On the way, he passes his mom, who is doing dishes in the kitchen.)

Brother: “Mom! [Sister] took my cane!”

Mom: “You tried to trip her. You had it coming.”

Brother: “Can you get it for me?”

Mom: “Nope. Leave your sister alone next time.”

(She went back to her dishes, and brother continued his trek. He grumbled, but he never did torment us that way again. I found that whole family the world’s best model for how to interact with folks with varying abilities: treat ’em like everyone else!)

(I’m out with a friend and his daughter, who, thanks to complications and sheer medical bad luck, is just now learning to properly speak at the age of seven. Despite this, my friend loves her to the point of giving her anything she wants. We’re shopping, and I’m tagging along to help out, both of us having her read boxes and signs.)

Friend: “All right, [Daughter], what’s that?” *points to a bag of cat food I’m lifting*

Daughter: “Kitty! Kitty!” *jumps up and down*

Friend: “Good! It’s food for the kitty. Kitties have to eat, too.”

Daughter: “Kitty!”

Me: *to a passing woman* “Hello.”

Woman: “Why is it out here?”

Me: “What?” *puts down cat food*

Woman: “The [disabled slur]! It needs to be put up!”

(My friend’s head snaps up so quickly and I see a certain hate in his eyes that scares me.)

Friend: “Listen here—”

Woman: “Why don’t you let your poor wife deal with it? Lord knows she’s probably brain dead if she wanted to keep it.”

(I grab my friend’s daughter and immediately take her with me as I get a manager in hope they can diffuse the situation while keeping [Daughter] away from it. I return with the manager to find that the woman is near tears and my friend is red in the face from anger.)

Me: “Uh… Should I take [Daughter] away again?”

Friend: “No. We’re leaving.”

(He walks out quickly and I hesitate before following.)

Daughter: “Dada! Lady sad.”

Friend: “I know.”

Daughter: “Why, Dada?”

Friend: “I got onto her like [My Name] does when his sister is being mean. The lady was very mean and said some bad stuff. So I got onto her.”

Me: “What did you say to her?”

Friend: “Don’t worry about it. She won’t be insulting innocent children anymore, though.”

(I was both terrified and respectful of my friend after that. The look in his eyes when the woman called [Daughter] a hurtful slur for a disabled person was enough to make me know that [Friend] is not to be messed with.)

(A customer walks up to my lane with a reusable bag. She’s purchasing several canned items and a loaf of bread. I start ringing her up.)

Me: “So, a layer of cans on the bottom, and I’ll put the bread on top?”

Customer: “No, thank you.”

Me: “So, I’ll bag the bread separately?”

Customer: “No, they can all go in one bag.”

Me: “…?”

(I just bagged her items as I initially said.)

(I work at an alternative smoke shop. We sell glass pipes among other things, and I always ask if people would like their smaller pieces wrapped to save bubble wrap.)

Me: “Would you like me to wrap that up for you?”

Customer: “It doesn’t matter. Why do you ask?”

Me: “Sometimes people prefer to not waste the packaging. You know, save the dolphins.” *trying to be humorous, as it’s a hippy store*

Customer: “Oh.” *stares blankly with the pipe in her hand*

Me: “So would you like that wrapped up?”

Customer: “Uh… yeah.”

Me: “Okay.” *slightly stunned*

(I wrapped up the pipe and she left.)