(This takes place as I answer the phone.)

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Jewelry Store]. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “God d***, f******…!”

(This stream of cursing goes on for a couple seconds as it is evident that the customer has not realized I answered the phone.)

Me: “Hello? How may I help you?”

Customer: “Oh, God, did you just hear all of that?! I am so sorry! You shouldn’t have heard that. I didn’t realize you had picked up the phone! What’s your name, ma’am?”

Me: “It’s [My Name], sir, and it’s okay! I’ve heard it all before.”

Customer: “However, I am still sorry. I shouldn’t have been cursing.”

(I direct his call and about a week passes. I am at work when I hear a customer ask if I was in today, and he is carrying a huge bouquet of flowers.)

Customer: “Here you go, ma’am. I am so sorry you had to hear that. A gentleman should never curse in front of a lady. Please accept these flowers as my apology.”

(The flowers were beautiful, whoever you are! Thank you for making my week!)

(I am deaf, and so I communicate mostly by reading lips and using BSL (British Sign Language). I frequent a coffee shop every day on my way to work, but since the place is always busy and in a rush I usually have my order written down to speed things along. This time however, was different.)

Me: *hands barista my order on paper*

Barista: *looks down at the paper, and then up at me, and then beams a huge smile*

(All of a sudden, the barista starts talking to me in fluent BSL!)

Barista: *in BSL* “Hi, I was hoping I’d catch you today!”

Me: *replying in BSL* “You know BSL?”

Barista: “Just a little. Ever since you’ve been coming in and felt like you had to write your order down on paper, I didn’t feel comfortable with it. I think you should be able to order just like everyone else, so I started learning BSL. How am I doing?”

(At this point I start tearing up, and am so emotional I can barely sign.)

Me: “I think… that’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.”

Barista: “It is absolutely my pleasure. Now, shall I get you your regular?”

(It has been years since that encounter, and every day the barista was there we would have a small chat in BSL. She has since left but we remain in touch and I always thank her for that day when someone learnt a whole language just to make me fit in.)

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(My friend and I are both copy editors on our college newspaper, which makes us significantly more interested in grammar than the average Joe. I’ve found a newspaper column dedicated to the minutiae of grammar.)

Me: *reading from the newspaper about gendered pronouns* “Last month a chatter said, ‘If the person is a she, a prostate exam is not an issue.’ This is not always true. See–” *a link to a medical page about trans people* “The columnist’s reply was ’But, but, but …’”

Friend: “I don’t get it.”

Me: “What are prostate exams known to involve? Don’t worry; you’ll get it in the end.”

Friend: “Yeah, okay. Your number two joke is pretty good, sir. I guess I deserved it; my pun account was in arrears.”

(I teach English to Spanish speakers. Some of the students couldn’t pronounce “circumstance”. They keep pronouncing the first syllable as in “seer”. This class in particular was mostly composed of men.)

Me: “It’s ‘circumstance’, as the ‘sir’ in ‘Yes, sir! No, sir!’.”

Student #1: “Like in ‘circus’?”

Me: “Yes, exactly!”

Student #2: “Like in ‘circle’?”

Me: “Very good!”

Student #3: *very excitedly* “Like in ‘circumcision’!!!”

(I’m getting my first driver’s license at 16. My mom sends me in with the required stuff — birth certificate, social security card, etc. — and waits in the car for me. I have an unusual middle name, with a small difference between it and something more traditional, like “Kinderly” instead of “Kimberly.”)

Employee: “Number 26!”

Me: *approaches counter with form filled out, which I pass to the employee. All my documentation is in a folder I am holding* “I’m here to get my first driver’s license.”

Employee: *looks over form, pushes it back to me* “You spelled your name wrong. You need to redo this.”

Me: *shocked pause* “…I’m sorry. What?”

Employee: “Right here. Your middle name. That should be an ‘m’, not an ‘n’.”

Me: “…No, it’s correct. My middle name is spelled with an ‘n’.”

Employee: “No, it’s not.”

Me: *completely unsure how to respond to that* “Uh… but… it is, thou—”

Employee: *interrupting* “Go get a new form and stop wasting my time!” *shoves form back across the counter at me* “Number 27!”

(In a daze, I walk out to the car and explain what happened to my mom. She’s FURIOUS. She takes my form and folder of paperwork, marches up to the counter, and interrupts the employee with the next customer. Luckily, the customer sees how pissed she is and just steps aside.)

Mom: “Did you tell my daughter that she spelled HER OWN NAME incorrectly on this form?!”

Employee: *stone-faced* “Yes. Because she did. That should be an ‘m’, not an ‘n’.”

Mom: *whips out the copy of my birth certificate & social security card in the folder* “So, I guess these are wrong too, then?!”

Employee: *glances at the certificate and card* “Yep.”

(I see the customer we interrupted stifle a giggle. My mother looks like her head is about to explode.)

Mom: *pulls it together enough to manage a very tight…* “Manager. Now.”

Employee: *rolls her eyes and hollers for a manager*

(The manager comes over, and my mom relays the story. The manager looks completely baffled.)

Manager: “Did you seriously tell this girl she doesn’t know how to spell her own name?”

Employee: “It’s supposed to be with an ‘m’!”

(I never put my middle name on forms anymore – just the first initial, just in case.)

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