My dad likes to tell me this story of how he took part in Swedish history. Before 1979, Sweden considered homosexuality as a mental disorder. My dad was aware of this but didn’t think too much about it until his boss came into the office angry one day and started shouting at all of them.

Boss: “All of you! If any of you are f****** [gay slurs] or friends with [gay slurs], you’re f****** fired!”

Office Worker: “Are you okay, [Boss]? Where is all this coming from?”

After some cajoling, it was discovered that the boss had just caught his son kissing his boyfriend, and he’d then kicked him out.

Dad: “So… wait, where is he now?”

Boss: “F****** on the streets for all I care! No [gay slur] is a son of mine!”

My dad was very disheartened to see this, and for the first time, he realised what homophobia was and how ugly it could be. My dad is also quite petty and inventive, and he inadvertently got involved with a movement he didn’t realise until later that other Swedes were doing at the time.

In protest to the boss’s behaviour, (he was taking his anger out abusively on all the staff) my dad decided he’d had enough and called in sick, but what he said was:

Dad: “I’m calling in gay.”

Boss: “You’re what?!”

Dad: “I’m calling in gay. You said if anyone was gay, they’re fired.”

Boss: “That’s not funny, [Dad]. I know you just got married.”

Dad: “Yes, but I’m feeling a little gay today. I might be coming down with something.”

The boss played it off as a prank and thought my dad was just hungover and gave him the day off. When my dad didn’t go in the next day:

Boss: “Where are you?”

Dad: “Oh, I’m even gayer than I was yesterday. I don’t think it’s going away any time soon.”

Boss: “Are you trying to get fired?”

Dad: “Of course not, but since you said—”

Boss: “I know what I said, but you’re obviously just trying to make a point, and I don’t appreciate you doing it at my expense! Come in today or you’re fired!”

Dad: “So, just to be clear, you’re firing me because I have what the law calls a mental disorder?”

His boss tried to backpedal but it was laid out clearly that my dad was effectively calling in sick, and the boss was firing him for it, which was illegal. The boss actually tried to apologise, but my dad said it was his son he needed to apologise to.

My dad eventually found a new job after claiming a few months of benefits from social services who had to fork out money because, under their laws, he had a “mental disorder”. Sweden saw the light in 1979 and changed the law so that no one had to “call in gay” anymore.

It wasn’t until decades later that my dad realised he was doing the same thing the Swedish gay movement was doing at the time. He was just trying to prove that his boss was an a**hole and get paid while he looked for another job!

An older gentleman comes into the store with his digital camera.

Customer: “It’s broken; it’s not powering up. Can you repair it for me?” 

Me: “Let me have a look.”

It seems like it’s out of power, so for troubleshooting, I replace the batteries, and it seems to work just fine.

Customer: “Oh! What did you do?”

Me: “It just needed new batteries.”

I play around with it a little and test a few functions.

Me: “I think you’re all set.”

Customer: “Thank you! I was worried because I thought it was broken. How much do I owe you?”

Me: “Nothing, you’re all set. There’s no repair job to pay for.”

He hands me a twenty.

Customer: “Here. Take this, then.” 

Me: “Seriously, no charge.”

Customer: “Son, let me tell you: I am paying you for your expertise. It might have been a simple fix to a young man like you, but to me, that is knowledge that I am willing to pay for. Never undervalue yourself and your knowledge in this world, ya hear me?”

Me: “I hear you, sir.”

Customer: “Good. And if you really need more justification, I’m paying for those nice new batteries you put in my camera!”

And with that, he was gone. My all-time favorite customer.

We went to a chain restaurant once after church — just my husband and me. Another group of five came in behind us. We knew them, and I can’t remember if they or we requested that we sit near each other because we knew them, but we weren’t with them. My husband and I were at a table by ourselves, and the other five were at their own table.

The food was cold, and our silverware and cups were dirty (lipstick and dried food). I had to ask for clean cups and utensils. We had to get our food remade or heated. The waitress had an attitude throughout.

At the end of our meal, this rude waitress dropped off our check with a 25% tip added. I went up to the register to pay and asked the manager who was cashing me out:

Me: “Why is there a 25% tip added to our check?”

The rude waitress spoke up.

Waitress: “Because you’re with them.”

She waved in the general direction of the other group.

Me: “No, we’re not. We just know them from church.” *To the manager* “I want the tip removed. I’m not paying that. The food was cold, the utensils and cups were dirty, and her—” *pointing to the waitress* “—attitude was horrible. I’m not tipping — and that much — for bad service.”

The manager took off the tip, and we paid the rest of the bill. He didn’t even take off anything for the bad service. We never went back.

I’m finishing my shift at the checkout, and my coworker is taking over so that we don’t have to close the lane. I was about to serve an older male regular before my cover arrived.

Coworker: “Have a good night! I can’t wait to see how different you’ll look tomorrow!”

Customer: “What does she mean? How will you look different tomorrow?”

Me: “I’m cutting all my hair off tonight! Going for a new look!”

Customer: “Oh. Men don’t like very short hair on girls.”

Me: “Well, I am a woman, and I’m not doing it for men.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, I don’t like very short hair on girls.”

Me: “And I don’t like very short guys, but I’ve managed to not be an a**hole to you about it for the last few years.”

Customer: *Angrily* “I’m 5’7″!”

Me: “Honey, you’re 5’5″ on a good day, and I can see that you’re wearing elevator shoes. Okay, byeeeeee!”

The customer complained, but my manager said I was off the clock the moment my cover arrived, so there was nothing he could do. My new hair came out great, by the way!

We’re going back in time to 2004 when I worked at a chain department store. I was twenty-two years old at the time and floated between the departments.

One evening, I was covering the kids’ department by myself, facing and folding, fixing the tables, checking the changing rooms, etc. A woman with three small children (three, five, and seven, if I had to guess) was at a table, pulling out shirts to hold them up and then tossing them back in crumpled heaps, forming a pile. Her kids joined in, making a mess, as well. Ugh. I’d have to straighten and fix the entire table.

The woman and her kids moved along. I fixed the table, which took some time, before returning to the counter. I heard kids laughing and shrieking.

Close to the counter in the kids’ section, we had a little round sitting area facing a wall of TVs. Various kid-friendly shows played on low volume on each screen. It was a chaotic scene to behold.

The three kids were there jumping and climbing all over the short benches. No mother in sight. I did a quick search and couldn’t find her. I got my manager next. Loss Prevention was pulled in. We talked to the kids, who were super hyper, to get their mother’s name. We called her over the loudspeaker. We waited. No one came.

Loss Prevention contacted mall security. They called the kids’ mother over their loudspeaker. Ten minutes later, she came storming in, furious, a bag from another store and a huge cup from the food court in her hands.

Mother: “Why did you call me?!”

We explained the situation with her kids being left unattended in our store. She flipped out.

Mother: “That girl—” *points at me* “—is there to watch kids in the kids’ section! That’s why there’s a big wall of TVs there. It’s so mothers can go shopping stress-free!”

Loss Prevention: “That’s not how it works.”

Mother: “Do you have any idea what it’s like to go out shopping with three young kids in tow?”

At that point, her kids were tearing up tables again, running and screaming, having a blast.

Manager: “Ma’am, you and your kids need to leave.”

She threw her cup of soda on the floor, grabbed up her smallest child, and shrieked at them all that they were leaving.

Mother: “[Store] is the most horrible place ever! I will be calling corporate about your misconduct!”

It’s been twenty years. Sometimes I still wonder how those kids turned out.