My area is extremely diverse. It is impossible to go anywhere and not encounter a non-white person. As such, racism in my area tends to be very minimal, since it is very difficult to live here if you’re a racist old cow. Unfortunately, some people don’t seem to care. I’m doing my own thing when this woman comes up. She doesn’t greet me or anything; she just blurts out:

Customer: “Why are all your tomatoes Mexican? Do you not have any tomatoes grown in the US?”

Me: *Shocked* “Uh… Let me go ask the produce manager. She knows more about this than I do.”

I walk over to the produce manager, who is Hispanic.

Me: “That woman over there is wondering why all of our tomatoes are Mexican.”

Manager: “Seriously? Mexican tomatoes? Tell her to complain to the government about that. I don’t have any control over where our produce is grown. It’s about supply and demand versus cost.”

Me: “Right.”

Manager: “Actually, I might have one or two types of tomatoes grown in the US right now. Let’s see…”

She starts checking all the tomatoes.

Manager: “This one says, ‘Product of America.’ And this one is also grown in the US. Oh, this one is Canadian if she’s okay with that. But you can tell her we have some patriotic tomatoes.”

Me: “Okay… where’d she go?”

I look all over the produce department, but the woman is gone. I wonder if it’s because the produce manager is Hispanic, but I say nothing.

Manager: “That’s weird.”

Me: “Yeah. If I see her again, I’ll let her know.”

Manager: “Mexican tomatoes. They’re freaking tomatoes! Just eat them!”

I finish what I am doing and then head up front to give customer service a heads-up in case she decides to complain. The customer service manager is of Egyptian descent, but she’s mistaken for Hispanic all the time. As I’m telling her about what happened, the customer finishes up at the registers. She starts to approach the desk, but she stares at the customer service manager for a minute before leaving the store.

Customer Service Manager: “Was that her?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer Service Manager: “I’m not even Hispanic! I hope she’s not from here. She can go back to wherever she came from.”

I work in a very Christian store though I am not Christian myself, and around the holiday season, all my coworkers say, “Merry Christmas,” to each customer that comes through. Of course, I’ve got no problem with that, but being that I don’t celebrate Christmas, I just say, “Happy holidays!” Usually, this is fine, and no one says anything about it. But one day, I’m bagging while a coworker rings up items. I hand the customer their bag.

Me: “You have a happy holiday!”

Customer: “Thanks. You, too!” *Leaves*

Coworker: “[My Name], why do you say, ‘Happy holidays,’ and not, ‘Merry Christmas’?”

I don’t want to start any kind of argument.

Me: “Um, well, New Years is coming up, too.”

Coworker: “Well… Christmas is first so you should say, ‘Merry Christmas.’”

My coworker looks very smug and proud of himself.

Me: *Fed up* “You know, it is currently Chanukah, so shouldn’t we be telling the customers, ‘Happy Chanukah,’ then?”

He instantly looked uncomfortable and confused, and I took the opportunity to go on break.

Related:
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 5
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 4
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 3

I used to work at a grocery store but got a different job and left. I’m still on good terms with everybody there, so when I go in I chat with them. The store also has a sub station that my family loves.

One evening, we’re feeling lazy, so I offer to go to the store to get subs and milk since we’re out. I place my sub order online since that’s the easiest way to make sure everyone gets what they want on their sub. My brother and I have the same base sub, but they’re on different kinds of bread and I have more toppings on mine. My dad has a completely different kind of sub but the same kind of bread as my brother.

Once I get home, I realize they gave me the wrong kind of bread on my sandwich. It’s not the end of the world, but I don’t particularly like that kind of bread. Having worked there, I know what a formal complaint does at the store level, but I also don’t want to just ignore it, so I decide to call the store and explain what happened.

Brother: “You’re really going to complain?”

Me: “Yes, they messed up my order.”

Brother: “Entitled.”

Me: “It’s not being entitled to inform them of a problem so they can be mindful in the future.”

Brother: “No, you’re being full-blown entitled. You complained to someone yesterday and you’re doing it again today!”

Me: “You mean when I ordered breakfast and my food was left off the order because of an app issue?”

Brother: “Yes!”

Me: “That’s different. That was a technical issue.”

Brother: “Don’t complain over nothing.”

Me: “They messed up my order!”

Brother: “Deal with it.”

Mom: “[Brother], imagine if they put onions on your sub. How would you feel?”

Brother: “I’d just pick them off or give it to Dad.”

Me: “What if they gave you Italian seasonings because I had Italian seasonings on mine?”

Brother: “I’d throw it away, but I wouldn’t complain.”

I walk away and call the store. The manager picks up and I explain what happened and that I’m not mad; I just want them to be more careful in the future. She says she’ll talk to them and offers me a free sub in the future.

Me: “[Manager] offered me a free sub. I probably won’t take it, to be honest.”

Brother: “Entitled.”

I tried to eat the sub as intended, but I ended up just picking out the meat and toppings and throwing away about half of the bread.

My husband and I are driving home to New Jersey after visiting relatives in Mississippi. It is a long trip — about twenty-two hours straight through — that we have made many times. Our route home takes us through the interstate in Virginia.

On this particular trip, a large hurricane is approaching Florida. Many people are evacuating the state entirely and going to stay with relatives elsewhere. We are amazed at the number of Floridian license plates that we see on other vehicles on the road.

We stop at a rest stop. We get out of the car and see pallets and pallets of cases of water.

I walk up to the security guard standing near the pallets.

Me: “Excuse me. What’s with all the water?”

Guard: “The State of Virginia is aware that many people will be coming to Virginia or passing through Virginia to escape [Hurricane]. Anyone that comes through here can get a free bottle of water. We also have free coffee, instead, and some snacks for kids.”

Me: “Are you serious? That is just awesome! I love Virginia for doing this!”

Guard: “You are welcome to grab a bottle of water or a cup of coffee if you’d like.”

Me: “Thanks, but that’s okay. We aren’t coming out of Florida, and we’ve got drinks and snacks in the car already. I’m just so impressed that you guys are doing this.”

Guard: “Thank you, ma’am. Y’all have a safe trip.”

And so it was, for the rest of our trip through Virginia; every rest stop had free water, coffee, and snacks. Go, Virginia! You guys are definitely getting it right!

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for December 2020!

Read the next Feel Good roundup for December 2020 story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for December 2020!

I work as a barista at a small coffee shop. We have signs indicating which way the line forms, and yet we frequently have people get confused about where they’re supposed to enter it, and, therefore, we have a lot of line cutters. It’s store policy that I cannot tell a customer that they’ve cut the line, unless they ask me or another customer complains. It’s stupid, I know, but I’ve nearly been written up over it before.

We’re already rushed, and there’s a line stretching nearly to the back of the store. It seems impossible to miss, and yet a customer not in line waltzes up to the counter and starts ordering. No one makes a comment that I can hear, so I serve the customer as quickly as I can, move him along, and then take the next customer in the line.

Customer: “Did you see that he cut the line?”

Me: “Yes, sir, I did. Unfortunately, I’m not permitted to say anything to a customer who cuts the line unless another customer complains. May I get you started with one of our [seasonal drinks]?”

Customer: “What do you mean? You saw him and you didn’t say anything?”

Me: “Sir, I’m not allowed to tell a customer to get to the back of the line unless another customer makes a complaint that they cut the line. Now, what can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Well, I’m making a complaint now!”

Me: “Unfortunately, sir, the customer’s already been served, so I can’t do anything about it now. In the future, if you let us know in the moment, we’ll be sure to assist you with the issue. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “What do you mean, you can’t do anything about it?”

Me: “I can’t un-take his order, sir. May I please take yours?”

At this point, my coworker has moved beside me to start pulling the line, but since we’ve only got one register, she can just get orders started; she can’t ring people through.

Customer: “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t do something when you saw he cut the line!”

Me: “It’s store policy, sir. If you would like to make a complaint, there’s a survey at the end of your receipt, and you can mention that this store policy was not satisfactory to you. Now, what can I get started for you today?”

Customer: “The survey will be at the end of my receipt?”

Me: “Yes, sir. And I’ll give you your receipt at the end of your order. May I take your order?”

Customer: “It’s just not right. We were all waiting in line, and he held everyone in here up!”

At this point, the line is stretched out the door because no one else can cash out. But just as I’m not allowed to confront line-cutters, I’m also not allowed to try to hurry customers along when they’re at the register.

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir. I can assure you that your wait won’t be much longer, once you place your order.”

Finally, he does, grumbling the whole time. After he’s out of earshot, my coworker turns to me.

Coworker: “He took twice as long complaining as the line-cutter did ordering.”