Client: “Listen, you f***ers, our website is all fuzzy. I don’t know what you’ve done, but it is totally f****** fuzzy.”

Me: “I think you might have problems with your Internet connection. What you’re seeing is some of the images progressively downloading, and—”

Client: “Don’t give me any of that nerdy, numpty, nancy-boy mumbo jumbo. All of the pictures look like s***. If you don’t believe me, go on the site and you’ll f****** see.”

Me: “No, you’re confused. You see, if the images—”

Client: “Listen, f***er, I’ve got better things to do than…”

A long, long pause follows.

Client: “Oh, wait, you’ve fixed it.”

I am driving to work, and another car breaks a whole range of laws at an intersection. Long story short, I end up with a huge dent on the side of my car and a snapped-off mirror. I’m about to get out of the car to swap insurance details, but the driver of the other car screeches away once they’ve composed themselves.

“Great,” I think. “Just what I needed.”

I get to the fast food place where I work and start taking orders. Later in the day, the planets align for me, as a very recognizable yellow SUV pulls into the parking lot. I even notice the slight dent on the vehicle from where it collided with mine.

A stereotypical soccer mom type steps out of the car, yammering on her phone (gee, it’s a wonder she didn’t have an accident!), and walks into the store.

Customer: *Still on her phone call* “I’ll have a [chicken sandwich meal].”

Me: “Do you have a rewards account with us?”

Customer: *Between her call and me* “No, what’s that?”

Me: “Oh, it allows you to get discounts on meals with us. All we need is your phone number and your email, and the first meal is on the house.”

Customer: “Sweet! Sign me up!”

I wrote down her details, and off she went with her free meal. I might have had to pay for her meal out of my pocket, but my insurance company is going to be charging her a lot more when I pass on her details along with her license plate number!

My high school was in a three-story building in the middle of downtown, and one side of the school faced an old apartment complex. I was admittedly zoning out when I noticed someone coming onto the balcony with a huge trash bag. This immediately caught my attention as I thought that was weird.

The woman glanced down and then dropped the bag over the side. Ah, she was throwing the bag into a dumpster on the ground. She went back in.

Then, she came out with a TV; it was a CRT, so probably about fifty pounds at minimum. She surely wasn’t going to…

She was.

Down it went.

CLANG!

BAM!

Then, the wailing of a car alarm caught the attention of everyone in class as the woman hurriedly ran back inside and slammed the door. Everyone ran to the window to see what had caused the noise. There was a dumpster, and in front of the dumpster was a car, with the TV making a big dent in the trunk of the car.

The teacher managed to somehow corral a bunch of rubbernecking teenagers to finish what was left of the class before sending us on our way.

I never saw the woman on the balcony for the rest of the semester.

This was seven or eight years ago before I quit smoking. The place I worked at had an outdoor smoking area where most people gathered to socialize. At the time I, a woman in my late twenties, had my bag with a bunch of geeky pins, including several Marvel pins. A new guy came up to me, looked at my bag, and scoffed.

New Guy: “Are you even a real fan?”

Any girl into geeky stuff knows where this is going.

He started quizzing me on Marvel but in a weird, obscure way. Like, “In which issue of ‘X-Men’ was Kitty Pride first introduced?” kind of obscure — pedantic statistic kind of questions. When I didn’t know, he rolled his eyes.

New Guy: “I knew you were just another fake fan.”

My turn. I put on my best “clueless girly-girl” voice.

Me: *Faking confusion* “Aren’t you going to answer some questions, too? You know, to really root out any fake fans, since you seem so concerned about the concept.”

The guy was wearing a Deadpool shirt.

Me: “What’s Deadpool’s full name?”

New Guy: “Wade Wilson.”

Me: “No, his full name. What’s his middle name?”

He didn’t know. I asked if Deadpool had any kids. He didn’t know. A few more (actually) basic Deadpool questions later, he hadn’t gotten any right.

Really upping the girly-girl voice, I said:

Me: “Huh. You asked me all those weird questions, and I just asked for the name of the guy on your shirt and whether he had kids or not. I guess both of us are fake fans, then?”

And then, I just beamed at the guy. His face turned red, and he stormed out. He didn’t even finish his cigarette.

He never talked to me again. There’s no “…and then everyone clapped,” but I did get a high-five and a smirk from another smoker who had been watching.

Pulling an Uno Reverse while ramping up the girliness has become my go-to move against gatekeeping a**holes, and it is AMAZINGLY effective. I highly recommend it!

I’m working in the produce section, stocking some new bananas, and a customer comes over to me.

Customer: “Did you know that humans eat more bananas than monkeys?”

Me: “No, sir, I didn’t know that.”

Customer: “It’s totally true. Think about it. When was the last time you ate a monkey?”

Me: “That’s… I…”

Customer: “This is why I shouldn’t shop without the wife…” *Wanders off*