(A good friend of mine is female-to-male (FTM) transgender, and because of consistent hormone use, he looks nothing like a female anymore. He even wears a big, bushy beard, and so is never mistaken for a female. However, transitional surgeries are expensive, and as such, he still has his original female organs.  One night he is stricken with abdominal pain, and I drive him to the ER to have it checked out. While his transitioning state is not necessary knowledge in all cases, he lets the intake nurse know, just in case it comes up as a culprit. Later in the evening, he is asked to drop his pants for one test, and the doctor is surprised by what she sees.)

Friend: “Nobody told you I was FTM, did they?”

Doctor: “No. No, they did not.”

(Amused, he texts me in the waiting room about this scenario.)

Me: “Maybe the intake nurse was punking the doctor.”

Friend: “LOL.”

(Later that morning, he is admitted and waiting the results of more tests when he texts me to come sit with him in his room. There, he tells me about the conversation that he had with the doctor who took his CT scans:)

Doctor: “Sooo… I got the images back from your scans and, well… we may have to have an awkward conversation…”

(My friend, who has been sitting in the ER with mysterious pain for a good nine hours at this point, is apprehensive.)

Doctor: “We have several possibilities as to what is causing this pain. It might be your appendix, which is ever-so-slightly inflamed. Or… it may be cysts… on your ovaries…”

(There’s a pause as my friend grins at the doctor’s strange tone.)

Friend: “Nobody told you I was FTM, did they?”

Doctor: “No, they did not. That’s a relief, though. I thought I was going to have to tell you that you have ovaries!”

(I still maintain that those ER doctors were punking each other!)

This story is part of the Transgender-themed roundup!

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(The store has renovated the teen section at the entrance to look like a club with TVs blasting music videos.)

Mom: “This music is too loud!”

Me: “Even I can’t stand this volume.”

Mom: “Excuse me, miss? Does this music really have to be THIS loud?”

Employee: “That’s how they do it now. The teens love it! I can’t change it.”

Mom: “Well, I’m the one paying for these clothes. I won’t be coming back if I can’t even hear myself think.”

Employee: *shrug* “…Okay.”

(Within a month the music volume was set to a tolerable level. I imagine the corporation figured out that drawing in teens didn’t spike their profits with the rest of the customers being driven out.)

(I work at a movie theater. It’s a lot of late nights, so sometimes I am pretty tired at work.)

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Guest: “Er, yeah, I would like a medium [soda].”

Me: *out of habit* “Would you like to add butter?”

Guest: “YEAH!”

Me: “Wait. No, I cannot offer butter in your drink. I am really tired, sorry. I can put butter in a small cup, if you like.”

Guest: “I thought it was weird, but I remembered that trend with butter in coffee so I thought this was something new and cool. But no butter, thanks.”

(I arrive at a sandwich shop for breakfast on my way to work and walk in to find an employee complaining to someone about a coworker.)

Employee: “…and she never cleans right! Now we’ve got wilted lettuce and slimy chicken!”

(They both suddenly stop and realize that I’ve been standing there for a large portion of the conversation.)

Employee: “Oh. Hi. What can I get you?”

Me: “Well, I was going to have food, but I think I’ll just get lemonade.”

(I moved to Germany quite recently and although I understand the language fairly well, I can only speak in simple sentences. I am also easily flustered. This happens at the university cafeteria, when I pick up a sandwich from the case and go to the counter to order a drink and pay for the items.)

Me: *holding up the sandwich and in my best German* “Here, please, and an orange juice to go.”

Grumpy Guy: *says something very fast in German, which I don’t understand*

Me: “Pardon?”

Grumpy Guy: *repeats the question equally fast, sounding irritated*

Me: *getting flustered, but doing my best* “Sorry, I don’t understa—”

Grumpy Guy: *cutting across me, still in German* “What. Kind. Of. SANDWICH, God d*** it!”

Me: “Oh, it’s the tomato and cheese. And an orange juice to go, please.”

(He glares at me, stomps off, and returns with the juice in a glass instead of a plastic cup.)

Me: *increasingly flustered* “Sorry, I’d like that to go, please.”

Grumpy Guy: “Argh, why the h*** didn’t you say so earlier?”

(He stomps off again, muttering to himself and finally returning with the juice in a plastic cup, which he bangs onto the counter. I move to pick it up but knock it over instead. Juice splashes all over the counter, my pants and the floor.)

Grumpy Guy: “You clumsy idiot! Now look what you’ve done! Bloody fool!”

Me: *very embarrassed and close to tears* “I’m really sorry! So sorry!”

(I grab paper towels and mop up the mess on the counter and the floor, apologizing profusely all the while. He just stands behind the counter, yelling at me, and I don’t understand a word he’s saying. Finally I finish cleaning up, pay for the items and rush out, very upset and getting stared at because of my wet pants all the way home. The next day, I’m relieved to see a different guy behind the counter. When I go to pay, however, I realize that I’ve picked up a sandwich with meat in it by mistake.)

Me: *hesitantly, in German* “Sorry, I’m a vegetarian and this has meat. May I put it back and get something else?”

(Before he can answer, the grumpy guy from the day before sees me and pipes up.)

Grumpy Guy: “Oh, she’s back with another problem, is she? Bloody fool, can’t do a thing right. So many people waiting behind her, too. It’s people like her who’re always causing trouble and holding up our work.”

Me: *speechless with anger which I am unable to articulate in German*

Second Guy: *looks shocked* “What are you saying? Shut up!” *to me* “No problem, ma’am, you can go pick out something else, and I sincerely apologize for my colleague’s rudeness. In fact, have any item you like for free.”

(He waited till I returned with a vegetarian option, even holding the queue for me, and refused to take any money for the order. As I walked away I could hear him arguing with the grumpy guy, who seemingly lost the battle and skulked off to the back. To the nice man who restored my faith in the cafeteria staff: Danke Schön!)