(A customer comes up. She has dark skin, as do I.)

Customer: “I need some quarters for this.” *dumps a bunch of change in my hand*

Me: “Okay.”

(I get her quarters, give them to her, and then get the hand sanitizer and start rubbing it in. She looks up from putting the quarters in her purse.)

Customer: “Why are you doing that? Are you afraid that you’ll catch my germs?!” *scoffs* “Are you afraid of a [race]’s germs? You racists!”

(She is yelling and everyone is looking at me. I feel mortified.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m am not racist. It was the money. The money has germs, not you!”

Customer: “Whatever! I’m not stupid and you’re being so obvious!”

Me: “Anyway, I have dark skin, too. How do you know I’m not [race], too?”

(She blinks and looks at me like she hadn’t noticed. She then grunts and turns to leave.)

Customer: “Well… Then, you’re racist against your own race! That’s the worst kind of racist!”

Me: “Have a good day, ma’am.”

I work as a medical illustrator, drawing injuries and surgeries for legal purposes — used as courtroom exhibits, mediation materials, etc. Most of the time, the cases that cross my desk are the same run-of-the-mill kinds over and over, but every once in a while, we get very interesting and challenging cases to illustrate.

My most memorable case involved a man with a tumor that had grown in almost the exact middle of his head, sort of at the very back of his throat, near the base of his skull. It had grown monstrously and required a surgery to remove it to improve quality of life. But the only way to get to it required some extreme measures, and I’ll never forget the surgeon’s notes in which he described the procedure. This is a bit gruesome, if you’re squeamish.

It required lifting away the bottom of the face from the skull and cutting the mandible — jaw bone — down the middle, then prying the jaw apart to either side. While the surgeon provided no sketches to help me visualize this, he made it clear enough when he mentioned it was commonly known as “the Predator cut.”

They also then removed half the jawbone. It was surprising to learn how they reconstruct the face afterwards; they simply carve up segments from your fibula — the small bone in your lower leg — and make a new L-shaped jaw out of it!

I worked in a cafeteria-style restaurant. The owner’s new wife would come through and say, “Hi, how are you?” You could tell she never really listened to the replies, as she would say, “That’s nice,” and continue on without even pausing.

One of my coworkers one day decided to check out if she was really listening. So, when asked, “How are you?” she replied, “I’m dying.” The owner’s wife said, “That’s nice,” and continued on her way.

(At the store where I cashier, we put the items that people purchase in plastic bags, which are visible behind the counter. This conversation happens everyday.)

Me: *ringing up a small item for a customer* “Will you need a bag for that?”

Customer: “No, that’s okay. Save some trees, right?”

(I wake up one morning with a major migraine. I am incapacitated, vomiting, the whole nine yards. I decide to go to the emergency room to get out of it. I call my work.)

Me: “Hey, I’m going to be late; I’m heading to the emergency room.”

(Ten minutes later I get a call from my boss who is on vacation.)

Boss: “You need to suck it up and get to work.”

Me: “And talk to customers as I’m dry heaving? No. I’m heading to emergency room.”

Boss: “They aren’t going to do anything but give you stuff that you can get at the store like Pepto Bismol.”

Me: “Um, excuse me, but how am I supposed to do take that when I can’t keep anything down?”

Boss: “Well, figure something else out, then.”

Me: “I am heading to the emergency room so they can give me medicine via an IV.”

(My boss was left completely silent and just told me to hurry it up and get to work. Needless to say, I’ll be transferring very soon.)