(Our company buys and leases houses. Although we try to keep tenants left over from the previous owners, we sometimes have to evict them, for which we offer compensation.)

Accountant: “Hey, [Name]. I have the check here for Messiah.”

Manager: “What?”

Accountant: “I have the check… for Messiah?”

Manager: “You mean Mesia? As in the name of street?”

Accountant: “What did I say?”

Manager: “You said Messiah… as in, the Lord descending from above to come to earth.”

Accountant: “Well, we’re kicking him out.”

(I’m the owner of a yarn shop. We’re open Tuesday through Sunday, and closed on Mondays.)

Employee: “Hey, Boss. I have a question. I’d really like to work on Mondays.”

Me: “Sorry, but we’re closed Mondays. So, that won’t work.”

Employee: “Well, since I’m willing to work Mondays, I think I should get paid for Mondays.”

Me: “I’m sorry? We’re not open so no-one works and so no-one gets paid, right?”

Employee: *irritated* “No, I want to work. If you won’t let me that’s your problem. I think I should get paid for any day I’m available to work.”

Me: “Seriously, no. Now can we go back to actually working, since it’s Tuesday and you’re getting paid?”

Employee: “But I don’t understand why you won’t pay me for Mondays?”

(She never did let it go. Eventually we fired her.)

(My eight-year-old friend and her stepfather go out shopping. She is white Asian, and her stepfather is African-American.)

Cashier: “Hey, thanks for shopping at [Name].”

(The cashier sees my friend playing with an action figure.)

Cashier: “Like going out with your friend?”

Friend: “Yeah. He’s my stepfather!”

Cashier: *confused* “Really?”

Friend: “Yeah!” *to stepfather* “Can I get a lolly now?”

Stepfather: “Sure, darling.”

Cashier: “Could you just stay for a sec? I need to check some stuff on your purchase.”

(They wait a few seconds while the cashier pushes a button. A manager comes along.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Cashier: “This man seems to be with this girl and she says she’s related to him. I think he’s abducting her.”

(My friend’s stepfather is horrified. The manager looks closely at him.)

Manager: “Are you related to this child?”

Stepfather: “I’m her stepfather. Look, I can call her mother—”

Cashier: “That won’t be necessary.”

(The cashier starts speaking into the radio.)

Cashier: “Security, close the main doors.”

Manager: “Listen, [Cashier]. This is stupid. Just because a black person is with someone who isn’t black doesn’t mean it’s criminal.”

Cashier: “Well, I’ve already pressed the 911 button, so they’re on their way.”

Stepfather: “Please, I haven’t done anything wrong. She REALLY is my stepdaughter!” *to the manager* “I swear, I’m telling the truth.”

Manager: “I understand, sir.” *to cashier* “Just please call them off.”

Cashier: “I called 911, remember? I can’t call them off.”

(When police arrive, they question my friend and her stepfather. The policeman asks my friend questions like her stepfather’s first name, birth date, and their address. After a call comes that the information is checked out with my friend’s mother at her home, the policeman looks at the manager.)

Policeman: “Well, this is accurate. She’s eight years old; a little kid wouldn’t know a strange adult’s date of birth. Plus, we don’t have any issues of missing children her age in the state. So, I think that he hasn’t done anything.”

Stepfather: *to cashier* “I TOLD you! You just have to go ahead and don’t let anyone get a word in!”

Manager: *to Cashier* “I’ll be seeing you round back.”

(Even twelve years later my friend has never gone back in the store, even though the cashier was fired.)

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(I have taken my van in to rotate the tires, but I also need my other wheels inflated.)

Me: “Excuse me sir, but could you—”

Employee: “Just pull it in and we’ll take care of it.”

Me: “But, sir. I need to get—”

Employee: “Just pull it in the bay and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

Me: “Sir, I just need some air—”

Employee: “Just pull it up on the rack!”

Me: “FINE!”

(I roll my little sport wheelchair up on the rack, cross my arms, and wait for him to notice. It doesn’t take long for other employees to notice and burst out laughing. The laughter makes the first employee pay attention and turn around. The look on his face is priceless! My wheelchair uses bicycle tires, which they inflate for me. They are very nice folks who will now let a customer finish a sentence!)

(I am at my local gym when I see a sign-up for children to have free activities over the Christmas holidays. These include hockey, soccer and ballet. I sign my daughter up and the next day I get a package from the gym with a gymnastics costume in. When I get back to the gym I go to the sign-up stall.)

Me: “Excuse me. When I signed my daughter up yesterday, I signed her up for hockey. I got a gymnastics outfit.”

Clerk: “Yeah. We got overloaded with names for hockey so I put her in gymnastics.”

Me: “Why wasn’t I contacted?”

Clerk: “Guess we forgot.”

Me: “Well, can I pull my daughter out if you’re overloaded.”

Clerk: *angry* “Christ! You women are so picky! That’s the THIRD time today I’ve had to withdraw a child from an activity! You b****** are just so ungrateful! We’re doing this for free, you know, where other places would CHARGE. You lot are just ungrateful.”

(I also see my daughter’s friend’s mother there. Turns out, she had signed up her daughter for soccer and got a ballet outfit and was told the same thing. We complained to the manager after we finished our session.)

Me: “Excuse me. I have a complaint. Your employee at the stall downstairs said that the hockey Christmas activity was full and put my daughter in another group. Then he swore at me when I withdrew her.”

Manager: “Funny, the hockey group isn’t over-running. In fact, it’s a ratio of one adult to three children. Only 11 children are signed up and we have three adults willing to take part. In fact, the ballet and gymnastics have 17 girls and I think three girls have been pulled out. Come to think of it, at least HALF of these girls were signed up for other sports!”

(The manager storms out of the office and we follow him to the clerk, who is putting papers away.)

Clerk: “Oh, hi, [Manager]. I needed to talk to you about—”

Manager: “Why have you signed up ALL the girls for ballet and gymnastics when some signed up for the other activities?”

Clerk: “Because if girls play aggressive sports, they look ugly. They need to learn their place. Anyway, I need to talk to you about this woman who is threatening to sue us.”

Manager: “F*** it! [Clerk], I want to know why you did this. Women have lives OUTSIDE the home!”

Clerk: “Yeah. But these little b*****s gotta learn they have to use these moves to impress a guy.”

Manager: “You are not only FIRED, but I will tell that woman I presume you insulted that she won’t NEED to sue because we’ll get her daughter in her chosen sport.”

(I find out the mother is another mom of my daughter’s friends. When I see her in the parking lot, she and her daughter look distressed and she is crying. Turns out the clerk had called her a ‘f****** b****’ and told her she ‘better stay inside the home or he’d hit her stupid.’ The clerk was fired. When I next heard about him, I was told he had a sexual assault charge on a woman just down from my children’s elementary.)