(I used to work for an energy supplier. Because I work in arrears, I am used to abusive calls but one day I have one that takes the cake. A colleague comes to me saying he has a woman on the phone asking for me by name claiming I sent an inappropriate letter. We get a lot of customers who don’t like being told they owe money. Thinking this is just such a case, I tell him to put the caller through.)

Me: “Hello, you’re speaking to [my name]. I understand you have a query about a letter?”

Customer: “You’re [my name]?”

Me: “That’s right.”

Customer: “Who in the h*ll do you think you are sending my husband letters?”

Me: “The letter you received was addressed to your husband?”

Customer: “That’s right. I’m his wife.”

Me: “I may not be able to talk to you unless I have his permission. Is he there with you? Or are you named on the-”

Customer: “Now you listen here, b*tch. How dare you write to my husband you wh*re! You think you’re the first woman I’ve chased away? You stay the h*ll away from my husband you filthy wh*re. He’s MY husband, not yours.”

Me: “You’ve called a utility company. Any letter sent out would have been in regards to his electricity account and would in no way be personal. Now please stop using that language or I will be forced to terminate the call.”

Customer: “Yeah well if this is a utility company why did you sign the letter?”

Me: “Because I work for the company. Now, what does the letter say? Does it have an account number on it?”

Customer: “You wrote it. You tell me.”

Me: “Madam, I write to countless customers every day. Now what does the letter say?”

Customer: “Well that just makes you a filthy sl*t. Stop writing letters to my husband! You f*ck your own husband and leave mine alone.”

Me: “Madam, this is your final warning.”

Customer: “B*tch you think you can take me? I’ll tear your f*cking wh*re face off! Leave my husband the f*ck alone, stop sending him dirty letters, stop calling him – I don’t ever want to see your name again, you hear me [my name]?”

*As per our policy I advise the customer that due to her language and threats I am terminating the call. She screams over me the whole time, continuing to make threats until I hang up. It’s worth noting that the only letters that have agent names rather than manager names signed on them are letters confirming payment plans we’ve set up, and they’re a mail-merge letter – we don’t actually write them.*

My brother’s fourth grade teacher was married in a society wedding. She married a high ranking politician.

The teacher invited her entire class. I suppose as props, she was like that . However my brother, being a fourth grader was more interested in baseball practice than a church wedding.

My older sister was 13 and she was all over this. She treated the wedding invitation as though it were a golden ticket. Her reasoning was she had previously been a student in this lady’s class five years prior . Our next door neighbor was also invited, so my sister got a ride from the kid’s mom. She put on her Easter outfit and off she went.

The only thing in her favor was that she is petite and hopefully didn’t tower over the other students.

My uncle and grandfather were both leaning back in recliners with their arms crossed behind their heads. My uncle (who has been putting his thumb and forefinger around each of his wrists absentmindedly for a while) says to my grandfather “Hey Dad, is one of your wrists smaller than the other?”

My grandfather proceeds to do the same thing, putting the same two fingers around each of his wrists. “No,” he says, “I can make my fingers touch on both wrists.” My uncle says, “That’s weird, I can’t.”

They continue this way for a while with my grandmother staring at them both as though they are the dumbest people ever born until she finally goes, “[Uncle]! You are missing half of one thumb!”

My uncle was in a factory accident. A coworker of his tried to pull something on a conveyor belt through a machine too fast and it sucked my uncle’s hand in and shredded his thumb to the middle joint. He had been this way for decades at the time of this story.

(A few years ago I worked as a bus boy and general assistant to the chefs. I usually go out into the dining area to get the dishes and bring them back to wash them. I’m a tall, chubby guy and I was 15 at the time being. The shirts I wore were black so I could fit in with the staff’s outfits, but most of the time the shirt was a size too small. This was one of those times. I pick up plates near an old couple.)

Old Man: “Hey, kid!”

Me: “Yes?”

(The couple look disgusted.)

Old Man: “You need to get better shirts, you look like a f****** queer.”

(I’m taken aback by this, mostly because I’ve never experienced homophobes this straightforward before. He keeps on.)

Old Man: “D*** queers, always making such strapping young men f**s.”

(I just decided to leave, but the old man was persistent.)

Old Man: “I don’t want to see you in a short shirt again, cause I’ll know you’re a queer then. It’s a sin to be a queer!”

(I’ve had enough then.)

Me: “There’s nothing wrong with being gay, actually, it’s supported here. If you want to be an old homophobic a**-hole you can leave; I’m sure the bartender will help.”

(The bartender is a muscular man and is pretty protective of me. The old man turned pale and left, his wife apologized and left too. A few months later the restaurant closed. The best part of the whole thing? A few weeks ago I saw the old man and his wife, and he saw me with my handsome boyfriend and freaked out when me and my boyfriend made out in front of him.)

I’m sitting in a restaurant, and the only other occupant is a guy in a suit who hasn’t ordered anything. Instead, he’s reading a book. When I’m halfway done with my meal, a girl a few years young with badly done make-up comes in and nervously makes her way to his booth before speaking in a deep voice.

Girl: Um… Hi?

He looks up from his book and immediately blinks in shock. Slowly, he closes his book and tosses it to the side.

Guy: This isn’t a one-time thing, is it?

The girl says something that I can’t hear. After a moment, the guy points at the booth opposite him, and she settles down. I start to get worried because the guy’s face is completely even.

Guy: So, uh, are you going all the way with this?

Girl: I’m saving up for the surgery, yeah.

Guy: Ah.

There is a long pause before the girl speaks again.

Girl: I wanted to come out to all of you before my family.

Guy: Smart.

He takes a slow breath, and when he speaks, he sounds almost angry.

Guy: This is going to be hard for you. I cannot trans.

Girl: *Quietly.* I’m sorry.

Guy: I cannot at all. I’ve tried, and I can’t wrap my brain around it.

The girl lowers her head, and the guy remains silent for a little bit. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to chase a crying woman out of the restaurant to comfort her when he speaks again.

Guy: So. No trans. You’re a girl now.

The girl’s head snaps up.

Girl: What?

Guy: You heard me. I can’t help you with any trans stuff, and I got to ask that unless someone is threatening you, we don’t talk about it. You’re a girl now. I’ll help you with girl stuff, listen to you complain about sexist guys or catty girls or whatever. Other than that, the only thing different is that you have to put up with me calling you ‘Darlin’.

Girl: *Near tears.* But you said…

Guy: Oh, no! My dude buddy is now a dudette buddy! I can handle you being a girl, but I can’t figure out the… in between stage. You’re my friend, and you’re going to need someone who’ll treat you like the woman you are, not the dude you were that’s becoming a woman. So you’re a woman now, and that’s final.

Girl: Thank you…

Guy: Oh, don’t thank me yet! Dear God, woman! That jewelry! Is that costume jewelry? No. No! None of my lady friends wears that unless it’s on stage. No, we’re getting you some real stuff as soon as we have some cheesecake, do you understand me?

Girl: You don’t…

Guy: Nyet! Nein! Negative! This isn’t up for negotiation! Fight me on this, and I’ll help you with your wardrobe, too! *He calls out to the waitress.* I need two slices of cheesecake over here, stat!

Girl: You’re a jerk.

Guy: We’ve been friends for how many years now, and you’re just now learning this? Now, I think you’re more of a silver girl than a gold girl…

Until the two of them left, I couldn’t help but smile over his antics. By the time that I finished my meal, he was already coming up with the best way to inform some of their friends, warning her that just showing up in makeup wasn’t the best way for a few of them and offering to be there with her for support. While I don’t think that he reacted the best way, the fact that he was so excited about helping her warmed my heart. I only regret not having gotten their bill when I left.