(I am a Mexican male, born in Mexico but living in New York. I am working in a fast food chain for the summer, before I enter university. My English is not broken, and my natural accent has almost faded, so I sound like I was born in New York, but I still look Mexican. I am ringing up a customer when two young customers in their mid-20s enter the store. They really look and sound Mexican. Suddenly, they glance at me and speak in Spanish. I still speak flawless Spanish.)

Customer #1: *in Spanish* “Look at that idiot, dude.”

(The other customer looks at me.)

Customer #2: *in Spanish* “Yeah dude, he’s one of those [slurs] who think they’re American just because their daddies crossed the border.”

(I came to America legally, and I wasn’t even planning on staying.)

Customer #1: *in Spanish* “Tell you what; we order everything in Mexican to piss him off. Let’s see how good he thinks his Mexican is.”

(They walk up to me and the only thing they say is:)

Customer 1#: *in English* “Good morning.”

Me: *in Spanish* “Hi there! What would you like to order today?”

(The customers go silent and stare at me for five seconds. Suddenly, [Customer #2] goes red.)

Customer #2: *in Spanish* “YOU’RE NOT MEXICAN! YOU’RE NOT AMERICAN! YOU’RE JUST A F****** [SLUR]!”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “Okay, are you going to order anything?”

Customer #2: “F*** YOU!”

Customer #1: “I’m sorry… We’ll never do that again.”

(They both leave. This would’ve been a good ending to the story, with two bigots owned and me happy, but it gets even better. Two days later my manager takes me into her office.)

Manager: “So… [My Name], I customer told me yesterday that a bigot told them that they were… [slurs]… Do you have anything to say about that?”

(I then tell her what actually happened and who called who what. She starts to laugh and tells me to not worry, then. Later on, [Customer #1] comes in and walks up to me.)

Customer #1: “Yeah… Sorry about my friend… Did he really complain about you?”

Me: “He did, but don’t worry; it’s all fine.”

Customer #1: “Well, if it makes you feel better… I punched him in the face when he told me.”

Related:
So Much Lol in Español

(My older sister and I are visiting the various monuments and sights of Washington DC. Today we are at an art museum, and my sister happily chats with the security as we go through their metal detector and such. We are about fifteen minutes into the visit, looking at a section which displays “The Art of War,” including items such as weapons and armor. While looking at an amazingly decorated shield, this happens:)

Sister: “Ooh, wow! This is amazing. [My Name], let’s get a picture.”

(As she is taking out her camera, a security guard loudly clears his throat to catch our attention. He points at small sign on the entryway to the room, about the size of a large index card, at waist-height that says, “Please, no photography.”)

Guard #1: “You can’t take any pictures.”

Sister: “Oh, I’m sorr—”

Guard #1: *condescendingly* “Can’t you read?”

(My sister has moderate to severe dyslexia and always struggled with reading in school, so this statement really gets to her. Disheartened, she puts her camera away and starts to leave.)

Sister: *quietly to me* “Let’s go. I don’t want to stay anymore.”

(While I’m usually non-confrontational, this situation has emboldened me, so I approach the guard.)

Sister: *louder* “[My Name], please, let’s just leave.”

(I stop, but can’t help but the notice that the guard is smiling smugly. I take note of his name-tag. As we leave, the security personnel we chatted with at the entrance comments:)

Guard #2: “Hey! Leaving so early?”

Sister: *purposefully leaves without speaking*

Me: “I’m afraid [Guard #1] killed our interest.”

(The second guard’s face turned sour; it seemed to me that they’d had issues before. The rest of the trip was amazing, but we never went to another art museum.)

(My maternal grandmother and my mother look very much alike, to the point that they are sometimes mistaken for each other. One day, it leads to this gem.)

Woman From Church: *to my grandmother* “Hello, dear, and how is your mother?”

Grandmother: *realizing she’s been mistaken for my mother* “I am my mother!”

Me: “Hey, you guys keep asking me to be in charge of the time sheets.”

Boss: “Yes, you’re very responsible.”

Me: “The thing is, I don’t like that. I have to get to the job site before everyone, I can’t leave until everyone else does, if someone is late I’m expected to snitch on them, and I have to drive out to the office on my own time to turn it in or no one gets paid.”

Boss: “Ah, I understand. How about if we give you a bonus for handling it?”

(I’m in college, where even $10 can mean a great deal to my finances.)

Me: “That would be great. Thanks.”

(The next time I got paid, I did, indeed, receive a bonus. Ten cents. Not ten cents an hour. Just one dime. I found work elsewhere soon after.)

(I work in a high-end clothing store. On this day a customer I served a few days earlier walks up to my register with an expensive dress.)

Customer: “Hey, I bought this from you and it didn’t fit me. I’ve got the receipt and spoke with the person who served me, and they said you’d give me a full cash refund?”

Me: “Uh, actually, I’m the one who served you, and no, I didn’t say that.”

Customer: *pauses* “Uh… Really?”

Me: “If you look at the top of your receipt, it says who served you.” *points out where* “See? my name’s right there.”

Customer: “Really? That was you?”

(I tap my name tag.)

Me: “I am, indeed, the one who served you, and I’m afraid that, no, we can’t give you cash back for this, as you purchased the item with a gift card. If you want to return it, we’ll have to give you your money back the same way.”

Customer: “Uh… Well… You know… You guys all look the same to me, so I thought… uh… I mean… D***, guess that’s dead in the water now.”

(She slunk out in defeat. For the record, I have olive skin and black hair from my Italian heritage, and my coworkers include a pale redhead, two Asians, and an African American. Still not sure whether it’s good or bad that a customer apparently deemed us all to be no different from each other.)