Unfiltered Story #66968

Unfiltered | October 9, 2015

(I work as a trainer in a fast food restaurant, and we’re about to close down when a female customer approaches our trainee’s till, looking a bit lost, so I step a bit forward in case I am needed. Note, I’m a female myself.)

Trainee: Hello what–*gets cut off by the customer*

Customer: *to me* Why are you coming here when I’m ordering? Why are you coming? Are you a lesbian?

(at this point I can tell the lady is intoxicated, but am a bit too stunned about her comments)

Me: Excuse me? No, I was just–

Customer: Why are you coming when I’m ordering? *to my trainee* Why is she coming when I’m ordering?

Trainee: Ma’am, I am a trainee and she’s just trying to see I’m doing okay.

Me: Yes, I’m simply trying to see if there’s anything I can help with.

(After telling her that, I can see she’s almost ready to start yelling so I slink back into the kitchen as I know my trainee can handle it. I was merely trying to see if I could have started on her burger or something, which I actually had to do before we closed!)

Unfiltered Story #27881

Unfiltered | October 9, 2015

I worked at Picadilly Cafeteria for a while. The restaurant would take in people from a halfway house not far away, giving them a job to help get them on their feet. One of the men that worked with us was Robert. He was African American, but had some of the prettiest green eyes I have ever seen.
Our busiest days were always Sunday, when church would let out, we would have a line of people all the way out the door with nice, elder, white folks. I was working on the line this day. (You pointed to the food you wanted, I got it for you, you slid down the line to the next worker).
The door to the kitchen was behind me. On this particular Sunday, my older sister and Robert were daring each other to do crazy stuff.

Me: good morning, ma’am, what kind of bread can I get for you?

Elderly lady: I think I would like a wheat roll.

The door behind me swings open and Robert steps out, throws his hands in the air and yells “KILL WHITEY!” Before turning and running back into the kitchen.

I can hear my sister and Robert laughing hysterically.

I turn back to the elderly lady and see she has gone pale white and shaking just slightly. I smile and say: you wanted a roll, was it, ma’am?

She just stared at me before taking her tray and moving to the checker without getting her bread. I slid under the line and broke down laughing.

Unfiltered Story #47579

Unfiltered | October 9, 2015

‎(Dad is playing Dead Island for the first time, he encounters the first zombies which you’re supposed to run from) Character on Radio: LOOK OUT, IT’S THE INFECTED! RUN!

(Dad is on level one)

Dad: (charges in at zombies punching wildly)





(Dad’s character dies)

Dad: Aww.


Dad: Trying to get past the zombies!


Dad: So?


Dad: …Oh.

Unfiltered Story #56607

Unfiltered | October 9, 2015

(It’s probably obvious that I am female-to-male transgender, and I know that some coworkers have been talking behind my back about it. I present as male and have finally grown facial hair, so there are fewer mistakes about my identity. I am also very flamboyant and open about my queer-ness. This might pertain to the following story with a very rude and inappropriate coworker:)

(Even though I am usually a cashier, they have me on the floor zoning that day. I am zoning the war zone that is cosmetics when my rude coworker walked by me. Note that I am hiding behind a shelf that you would have to walk through the area to see me, so he had to have been looking for me.)

Coworker: Hey! Doing some shopping?

Me: (looks into my basket that has misplaced items and my floor items which indicate I am working) No? I’m on the floor today. They have me zoning E’s and D’s today for closing.

Coworker: Oh! They have you doing the girly shit! (He laughs as he walks off.)

Me: Really!?

(Needless to say, I reported him as soon as I could.)

Unfiltered Story #32152

Unfiltered | October 8, 2015

I teach supply chain management to MSc students. It is the first week of the new year, and I introduce myself and the subject to the students. Both is clearly displayed on the screen. Most students have first degrees in engineering, several years of experience in industry, and many of them are already teaching in their home countries. We discuss this, and they even give them time for a group activity. At the end of the first hour, two students approach me. They had finally just realised that they are in the wrong room: they are first year undergraduates in political science. Apparently, it didn’t occur to them that I was the wrong person, teaching the wrong subject, to the wrong kind of students.