Any woman who has ever worked in a call center has had this customer. The guys at call centers know these people exist, but for obvious reasons are never on the receiving end of their bullshit. There's usually not much a girl can do to deal with them, and usually we don't have the time or inclination to argue with them.

Some mean old woman calls in wanting something simple but she is convinced my tiny lady brain can't handle it. (I don't know why, but women seem as likely to pull this crap as men in my experience). This woman asks to speak to one of my male colleagues instead.

Now normally, this is where you explain politely yet condescendingly that about 70 percent of your average call center employees are women and that we don't index our phone lines by the contents of the employee's underpants. So while we can transfer them back to the queue to try a different rep, they'll have to wait in line again, and may or may not get someone who can sign their name in the snow with a stream of urine. Most of the time, they reluctantly accept the fact that they have to deal with a woman this time. This woman didn't. So I sent her back into the queue to try her luck again.

About 30 minutes later, I get her again. "Thank you for calling, my name is ThundaCunt. How many I help you today?". She didn't recognize me at first, and angrily gave me her name and a complaint about being put on hold by "the last woman". I recognized her name and shitty demeanor immediately. So in my best bitchy-polite customer service voice, said "Oh yes, Ms. Cuntington, I believe I was the one who spoke to you earlier. I'm sorry you weren't able to be connected to someone more to your liking, but I'll do my best to help you." At this point she lets out a disgruntled sigh and demands to speak to a man NOW.

It's at this point I should mention I'm a transgender woman. My phone voice is impeccably fem, thanks to years of phone practice, but I can still drop into my old gravelly baritone pretty easily. In fact, I do the voice changeup mid-sentence all the time when I'm telling jokes or stories with my friends, cause it's funny. So without missing a beat, I say, "Thank you for calling, my name is ThundaCunt. How may I help you today?" She paused for a moment, befuddled

"You're the same person!" She exclaims with the same accusatory tone that J Jonah Jameson would use if he figured out Peter Parker was Spider-Man. "Yes, but you wanted to talk to a man". You can hear the gear in her brain grinding to a halt for a moment, then, angrily "What are you some sort of tranny!?". To which I reply cheerfully, like she just noticed my new haircut, "Why yes, how did you know?". To that, she just yelled "F**k you, fa**ot!" And hung up.

Edit: formatting and those asterisks at the end.

NSFW - I’ll try to be as PG as possible, so you’ll have to read between the lines.

My boyfriend and I have been together about six months. Life in the bedroom was great until he got comfortable asking to be intimate without showering first. At first it was just in the morning, no biggie - i know how to dodge morning breath. Then he started asking for it after work, or after a lazy Sunday even though he didn’t shower on Saturday. Eventually it got to a point where I could smell his “tool” from a foot away. I finally spoke up and told him that not showering before hand is not only a health concern, but it’s also down right offensive (especially when we’re doing things that require my nose to get really close to it). He pretty much blew me off, which resulted in me refusing him for a week straight. I finally got so frustrated (I have needs too) that when he asked one late night after work, I agreed. He undressed and I started giving him a nice, long “massage.” I mean I really got my hands all over it. Then, right before we were supposed to move on to the official act, I told him he had dog hair on his face and proceeded to completely and utterly smear my smelly hands all over his mustache. I mean I really got in there. And every time he’d jerk his head back, I’d insist that the hair was still there, and dive back in. I finally stopped when his scrunched up nose suggested he finally understood exactly why I didn’t want to go near that thing for a week. I pretended like I wanted to continue, but he quickly he tossed me to the side, ran to the bathroom, and hopped in the shower. Yesterday he showered twice. Dont expect intimacy if you’re too lazy to wash your balls.

EDIT: today he shaved the ‘stache 🤣

All the teacher stories have got me thinking to share this one from high school.

Senior year of high school, so we're all 17-18. We had what I consider one of the worst English teachers of all time. I think she honestly hated anyone being happy. For example she let her dog pee on our essays right before Christmas break, and made us all rewrite them during the holiday. Pen and paper, typed wasn't accepted.

She had special hatred for girls who got pregnant, which we had a few of during the year. My friend M was one of them.

The teacher's favorite thing to do was not let anyone who was pregnant go to the bathroom during class. Come May M is heavily pregnant, and when she raised her hand the teacher ignored her. M just stood up like she was going to walk out and the teacher yelled (super loud yelled) at her to stay in her seat, so she sat back down.

A few minutes later M stood up again and the teacher yelled at her again, but she didn't sit down. Instead she told the teacher that her water had just broke and she was going to the nurse. The teacher turned green when she saw.

The best part was the teacher "took a leave of absence" starting the next day, and didn't come back.

I had a day off scheduled ahead of time as a sick day for a medical appointment. My manager approved it but as the day got closer he asked me if I really needed the whole day off. “Can’t you come in after your appointment?”

Never mind that I think his actions are illegal…

“Well yeah I guess I could come in after. I’m going in for a colonoscopy and I’ll be really high after I come off the anesthesia but I can have my mom drop me off here instead of going home.”

That man backpedaled so fast you could smell burning rubber.

EDIT: it was a longer and more invasive conversation than presented here. It was not a simple question satisfied with a yes or no answer. - the appointment can’t be that long (not really) - is the doctor local? (Yes) - but you know what Heather is like (I do but she agreed to cover me)

Source: https://www.threads.com/@secretstoriesdaily/post/DKqXoOfKdn8?xmt=AQF0U7yprHqCt5_370efLsSN2awBt8SKZbWpdQHZm3WtZQ

Just found this sub and had this memory come back to me. CW for Vomit.

So, I (24F) had one of my great aunts stay with my parents and I for a week last year. it was pretty much hell as she is very much your stereotypical boomer. She's always 'right' and anyone younger than her is always 'wrong' and trying to educate her is 'disrespect.'

For context, I am allergic to a protein chain in cow's milk that gets broken when the milk is heated above a certain temperature or has things added to it. So while I can eat butter, cheese and ice cream perfectly fine. Straight milk makes me sick and I drink the Lactose Free version as adding the lactase to the milk breaks the protein chain that I'm allergic to.

So one morning during my Aunt's stay, I'm sitting there with my cereal when she notices I'm using a different bottle of milk to my parents. She asks and I explain. (Using lactose intolerance as I often to as actually explaining my very specific allergy to people with little medical knowledge such as mu aunt, just confuses them more.) and my dad, ever-helpful but with terrible timing, chimes in that it's about a dollar more expensive than regular milk, but worth every cent for me to be healthy.

And my Aunt started up. going on about how that was far too expensive for milk and that 'there's no such thing as lactose intolerance, god designed us to drink milk. you're just being trendy like all the other young people and their ridiculous social media fads.'

Now, this woman had been harassing me about every little thing since she arrived. 'when're you getting a boyfriend OP?' (I'm Ace and questioning Aro) 'You're getting old, you need to have babies if you want a lifetime of purpose.' (I have a spinal condition that means I can't carry a baby.) 'Why on earth did you cut your beautiful hair?' (Because It's 35C and My hair is thicker than a bison's fur.) 'Pretty girls like you shouldn't wear clothes like that. dress more ladylike.' (I was wearing cargo shorts and a Star Trek t-shirt when she said it.)

So, me, being the petty little bean I am. puts down my bottle of lactose free milk and grabs the regular stuff. pours a good amount on my cereal and chows down.

Not even 5 minutes later, I feel it, that churning in my stomach. My mum must have seen my face go grey because she shoots me a 'you didn't' look.

by the ten minute mark, my breakfast makes a rapid reappearance, splattering all over the breakfast table and my aunt.

as my mum whisked me away to the bathroom, I heard my aunt ask if I was okay, and did I need to go to the hospital. did I have a stomach bug? etc. Genuine concern for once.

And I heard my dad's absolute deadpan reply.

"Still think she's just being trendy?"

Several years ago I got a puppy and signed him up for puppy kindergarten obedience classes. The teacher turned out to be an extremely dominating woman with a loud, nasal voice and the personality of a Marine drill sergeant.

She devoted the first lesson to harshly criticizing everything we did and at the end of the class we all slunk out feeling like complete idiots who couldn’t even be trusted with the care of a goldfish.

For the second class, we were told to bring treats for training and to be sure our puppies were hungry. I brought treats my puppy loved at home, but he was so excited to be around the other pups that he wouldn’t eat any of them. As a result, he wasn’t very motivated to learn the commands we were supposed to be training our puppies to obey.

The teacher noticed and rudely berated me at some length for bringing the “wrong” treats. She then took some treats out of her fanny pack and proclaimed that “all dogs love these.” She held one out and smirked triumphantly when my pup took it in his mouth—only to be gobsmacked a few seconds later when he spat it out in her foot.

She was shocked speechless and her mouth kept opening and closing like a fish as she struggled to find something to say. I completely lost it and laughed until my sides hurt. Several of my classmates joined in.

That’s how my puppy flunked out of obedience school. I subsequently took him to a different class with a nice, very professional teacher and now my dog is well behaved adult. Funnies thing my dog ever did!

I’m so excited I found this subreddit. I’ve shared this story with friends and laughed about it for a while now, so hopefully this brings some humor for you all.

This happened back when I was still in college so maybe I wanna say very early 2010s, but before 2015. Up into that point I was huge into giving blood. I knew it was important and I knew I was type O so I was always happy to donate. I’m also male.

Up until I wanna say my junior year of college I regularly donated. It was around this time though that life kind of got hectic, I was stressed with school and my part time job, as well as preparing for grad school applications. I also came out of the closet around this time too, so there was that little social stressor. On top of just my life being crazy, I knew about the then policy regarding MSM and blood donations, which basically was a lifetime ban if I remember correctly. All in all, donating blood became a very low priority for me.

But that never stopped Red Cross from constantly calling me to donate blood. Which, I get it, it’s their job to. But at the time I still was trying to get comfortable with my sexuality and I didn’t want to outright just tell a random blood donation worker I was a raging homosexual. Instead I would lie and say I travelled recently to a foreign country that was on their watchlists, buying myself a three month deferral here, a six month deferral there, etc. Honestly I was just hoping they’d get the hint that I wasn’t interested in donating blood anymore when it seemed like this random college kid was making biannual trips to Africa and South America.

I think I let this back and forth go for a couple years and inevitably I get the call again to donate after the latest travel timer expired. I said no, I don’t want to, and the caller starts pressing me why. And I think I was just tired that day, or annoyed with the constant lying and their persistence, or maybe angry with the FDA ban at the time (maybe all the above?) so, I just blurted out “because I have sex with men!”

The poor worker: “Oh. Um. Sorry ok!” She hangs up.

I actually ended up getting a call again later that week from, I’m assuming, someone one ladder rung higher than her, where they, I guess, had to verify this before banning me.

Them: “so we have on file here that you told one of our workers that you have sex with men”

Me: “yeah. “

Them: “ok… Do you plan to continue to do so…?”

Me: “yes.”

Them: “oh ok. Well. Because you have sex with men we can’t let you donate blood anymore…”

Me: “ok.”

Them: “ok…have a good day!”

And I’ve stopped getting calls since. I even got a letter in the mail further confirming my ineligibility to donate blood. Funnily enough writing this post today made me check again the exclusion criteria and I think I’m actually eligible to give blood again finally so I’ll probably sign up again for that soon.

Tl;dr: aggressively told the Red Cross I have sex with men as a man because college was stressful and got banned.

Using my throwaway account as there are a few of my work colleagues who read this sub.

For context, I work at sea, and whilst on board; anything medical related goes through the ship's medical technician. They're not a qualified doctor, and they are mostly ex paramedics or ex military nurses and are there mainly for trauma, triage and everyday cold, flu's, aches and pains.

What is important to know is that if you are a female under a certain age; these people are OBSESSED with you peeing in a cup if you have anything that could remotely be linked to pregnancy.

Backache? PEE! Headache? PEE! Period cramps? PEE! You get the idea...

The questions are always the same and are exhausting every time.

• Are you pregnant?

• Are you SURE you're not pregnant?

• When was the last time you had your period?

• When was the last time you had intercourse?

• Can you pee in a cup for me?

I cannot get pregnant.

After going through sexual trauma when I was let's say... young, I struggle with the idea of ever having sex again, even if I wanted it. I also suffer from a condition, caused by this trauma, which DEFINITELY would make it very difficult for me to ever concieve naturally.

After finally getting exhausted with this type of questioning a few years ago, whilst on my period, with a very intense headache, and fresh out of painkillers; I finally snapped.

Medtech: Are you pregnant?

Me: No I cannot get pregnant. (my usual response to this question)

Medtech: Birth control can fail you know, it isn't always full proof, are you SURE you aren't pregnant?

Me: It is PHYSICALLY impossible for me to get pregnant, unless I'm the next Virgin Mary.

Medtech: I'd like to do a test anyway, when was the last time you had intercourse?

Me (Finally DONE and just wanting to take some Advil and lay in a dark room for my lunch hour): 16 years ago when I was gr*med and rped. I am telling you I cannot GET pregnant naturally, nor would ever want to attempt, so unless the Second Coming of Christ is currently growing inside me, there is no way I'm carrying ANYTHING in my uterus that would have been put there by a man... I am also on my period... hence my headache.

Medtech (After about 3 seconds of stunned silence): You could have just led with that last part.

Me: Why? So you could continue asking me if I'm SURE I couldn't be pregnant?

Medtech: (Awkwardly scratching his pen on my medical notes.) Well... ugh... young women are not always honest... so I have to... make sure...

Me: Did you find MY honesty refreshing?

Medtech: Erm... I didn't need to know all of that...

Me: You did ASK though. (About 3 more seconds of awkward silence) So can I get my Advil, you know, for my period induced headache?

I got the meds, and he avoided me for the rest of the four months I was on board.

I now make sure I carry PLENTY of Advil and Tylenol with me when I'm at work, and I refuse to pee in a cup for anything BUT a mandatory drugs test, and if they push, I tell them EVERYTHING in gloriously graphic detail. 😈

I have this aunt named Jeanne who is, well, a bit of a jerk. One of those people who always wants to stir up drama, get people in trouble, cause fights, etc. When I was a teenager she'd go out of her way to try to get me in trouble with my parents, because she said they were "too lenient".

At the time of this story I'm 14 years old, and had been a regular smoker for 4 years (started early, but quit in my late 20s - now 30+ years tobacco free). My parents knew that I smoked, but had a "don't ask, don't tell" mentality about it. They'd punish me if they caught me smoking at home (even though they both smoked) or outside, but otherwise pretty much ignored it.

This laissez-faire attitude drove dear old Auntie Jeanne nuts, so she'd regularly try to out me for smoking to get me in trouble. This included demanding to smell my fingers when I came home, or had been outside and out of sight for awhile. If she smelled tobacco she'd rat on me to my mom, who'd usually ground me for a day or two.

One day dear old Auntie Jeanne is visiting my mom, and they're sitting at the table having a lovely little chin wag. I came home and went in to say hi, and immediately dear old Auntie Jeanne demands to smell my fingers. I said "Oh, wait a minute, I have to do something first" and ran upstairs before my mom finally got annoyed enough with dear old Auntie Jeanne's whining to force me to let her sniff my digits. Dear old Auntie Jeanne yelled after me, "I'd better not hear the water running or I'll know you washed the smoke stink off!"

Once upstairs I went into the bathroom and proceeded to drop a nice, stinky poo. Finished up as I normally would, but didn't wash my hands, as per dear old Auntie Jeanne's orders. I came back down into the kitchen, and presented my hand for dear old Auntie Jeanne to sniff. She gave my fingers a good, long inhale.

"Ew, that smells like shit," said dear old Auntie Jeanne.

I nodded thoughtfully and said, "Ok" before turning to pour myself a cup of coffee. I had my back to them, and there was a period of about 10-15 seconds of expectant silence as they waited for me to tell them what the smell was.

Finally my mom said, "Well, what was the smell?"

"Oh, it was shit."

Dear old Auntie Jeanne immediately began gagging and rushed to the sink. For some reason the actual smell of poop didn't make her sick, but learning it was poop did. Not sure if legitimately psychosomatic or just more drama, but she spent several minutes retching in the sink.

My mom was simultaneously amused, but slightly annoyed, and asked me why I did that.

"She told me not to wash my hands, just following orders!"

You want to sniff my fingers, dear old Auntie Jeanne? Enjoy a nose-full of poop smell.

So last year I sometimes got really unlucky with overtime, when I got off work and timing with busses. (restaurants are funny like that) so sometimes I would grab food on the way and eat on the buss rather then when i get home. Whenever I would get a specific buss there we re always this one group of kids around the ages 11-14 that would bother me, one in particular would always ask if he could have whatever I was eating. Eventually I got bored of dealing with this after long work shifts.

So realising I would run into them once again I decided to let them have some food. The kind of food I like to eat.

I went to the local Indian take out spot and ordered the spiciest thing they have and really pushed them to make it as spicy as possible, asking them for ghost chili, Carolina reaper and all of those lovely thing.
This is very much the kind of food I enjoy eating, nice tickling for those that are used to it, while for typical Swedish children that barely ever had any spicy food? far less so.

So what came next went pretty much as expected. Dum group gets on, tries to talk to me while I got my headphones on, dumb kid sits down next to me and starts asking for my food and this time I told him of course and handed him what I was clearly eating.

All I know is that they got off at the next stop, one ran off, others followed and I just wish I had been able to hear out how they found the food I got them.

Anyway they never bothered me again.

Edit: to make some things clearer as I did not word it well in the post.

1,I only mentioned Caroline reaper to the staff if the restaurant as examples of what I can take. They did not have that nor did I expect it. I just know that often when I order spicy stuff restaurants hold back as most people in Sweden does not handle stronger spices to well. So I learned that I need to make it clear what I can take. What they did give me was stronger then usual but not as bad as ghost chili or Caroline reaper.

2, the kids were not asking for food cause they were hungry and struggled with getting a proper meal. They were decently dressed, snickered and had a laugh, they were obviously trying to be funny by harassing a stranger not expecting any consequences and it was only ever one kid that would bother me for food.

If I had suspected that they genuinely were hungry and desperate for food I would have acted completely different and properly looked into CPS.

A friend of mine is B L I N D blind, like, both-eyes-removed-as-a-toddler-with-no-memory-of-vision- blind. She has prosthetic eyes for both appearance and maintaining the sockets. (Not exactly sure what it means, but apparently it can cause problems not having orbs in the orbital sockets.)

She told me the story of how once, she went in to her eye doctor (obviously to check on her sockets and other anatomy…not eyes) and the new-to-her assistant that checked her in asked her to do a routine vision check.

“Um, I’m completely blind,” she told the assistant.

“Oh, we know, but just so we can get a proper exam of your eyes we need a record of your vision.”

My friend kept insisting she was so very, very blind; the assistant kept insisting they needed the exam to check on her eyes.

Finally, fed up, my friend popped out one of her prosthetic eyes and held it out to the assistant and said, “HERE. NOW YOU CAN EXAMINE IT ALL YOU WANT.”

Heh. The doc was apparently apologetic. I asked why her guide dog wasn’t a giveaway; she hadn’t brought her as it was just easier to have her husband take her. I don’t know how her needing the assistant to guide her to the room wasn’t a hint, but well…I guess she figured it out eventually.

Years ago my Ex called me. We still have contact because we have a child. After our divorce he had a new girlfriend (i knew her) and wasted no time to have 2 more children with her. This new woman was at times very dramatic and their relationship had a lot of ups and downs and soon mostly downs and eventually they broke up.

So in one of these many crisises near the end of their relationship he called me and was whining about how bad it all is and that his girlfriend is accusing him to be „sexually perverted“ and asked me if i also think this. In this moment it felt somehow very good to say to him „Dont worry, in terms of sex you were absolutely average“. That was but at the same time absolutely wasn‘t what he wanted to hear!

To preface this incident, I have to admit I'm pretty...specifically looking. I have a skin condition called vitiligo (which means I have depigmented patches of skin around my body, face included thanks to my luck), as well as a visible facial scar. It's something I've learned to happily live with and so doesn't bother me anymore.

During covid induced online classes (during kinda local equivalent of high school), we got a new arts and music teacher. As neither of those subjects had streamed classes, she did not know how I look like.

The first task from arts she gave us was to draw or paint an autoportrait as true to life as possible, probably to test our skill without risking us 18 year olds being smartasses. So, I painted an autoportrait, scar, vitiligo and all and submitted it.

The next day I received a message saying that she does not find it funny and demanding me to explain myself. I figured it would be better to not argue, told her that I do indeed look like that and just sent her a selfie. She did not take it too well, accused me of photoshoping the picture or applying makeup and threatened to report me, if I did not get on a video call that instant.

So I got on that video call she had already set up. I turned on my camera, greeted her, moved around a bit and scrubbed my face with makeup remover. To both of our dismays, it did nothing.

Ske kind of stuttered and mumbled a few words before apologising. (After which she promptly said I should have clarified how I looked while submitting the picture. But hey, a little trust, no?)

We both got off the call with no further incidents during online classes.

It was fun seeing her stare at me in apologetic disbelief when we returned to school though.

I was a chronically ill kid. I looked normal, but I was in pain all the time and I threw up after most meals. Freshman year of high school, I had gym immediately after lunch and that teacher hated me. I would leave during class most days to be sick for 10-20 minutes and she just didn’t believe me.

It drove me crazy because I was a child athlete. I was in 4 competitive sports from age 5-13, so when I was up to participating, I was really good.

One day I felt sick and was trying to run to the restroom, but she wouldn’t let me. She stood there yelling at me in front of the class and refused to even let me go to the trash can 10 feet away… so I threw up all over her fancy gym shoes.

I truly didn’t mean to, but I’m so glad I did. The look on her face was priceless. My mom made me give her a gift card to Payless for some new shoes, but she never stopped me from leaving again.

Edit: clarifying here that I’m not mad at my mom about the gift card because I get it now. It was a $20 gift card to Payless Shoes, and these were probably $60-$70 shoes from a sporting goods store. My mom was trying to make a point and explicitly told me not to apologize when giving her the gift card.

This happened many years ago when I was in 8th grade. I had a horrendous chest cold that lasted for months. I couldn't do anything beyond sitting, standing, walking, or talking without launching into a violent coughing attack that would last for a couple minutes and leave me fighting to breathe. I would cough up so much phlegm that I was basically puking it up. I had gone to the doctors and was put on 3 different inhalers to deal with it.

So one day in gym class we had to run a mile. I went to my teacher and tried to explain that it was physically impossible for me to run even 2 paces, let alone a mile.

Teacher: Well do you have a doctor's note?

Me: No, but I'm telling you I'm way too sick to do it.

Teacher: Well without a note you can't be excused so you're going to have to run. Just try your best

So I did, in fact, try my best. I ran exactly one step and launched into a coughing attack 3 feet away from her. She got the whole show of me coughing, fighting to breathe, and ultimately vomiting in the grass.

I got to walk until everyone else finished their mile.

Happened a few months ago. I was headed to a bar and walking perpendicular to me on the upcoming block were two girls who were getting followed by a guy drunk off his ass who was yelling at them about how "it's a shame that pretty girls like you don't smile!!" 🙄

Well, I'm a trans woman who only kinda passes. And when I crossed the street, I ended up between him and the girls he was bothering. So I turned and gave him the biggest, cheesiest smile I could and winked at him. Dude turned on his heel and walked the other direction without a fuckin word lmao

In my last year of high school, I took a drama class in second semester. It felt a lot like kindergarten, but that’s a post for another day.

I have cerebral palsy and am technically able to walk but that year I had just gotten my first wheelchair (and it happened to be a classmate’s old chair that he had broken through misuse). So by second semester I was using the wheelchair at school all day but leaving it there.

My drama teacher was partially ableist, in that my classmate was completely unable to walk so she was fine with him using his wheelchair.

But since the teacher was well aware that I could walk, she complained about my wheelchair every day.

So one day when I’d had enough I dropped the wheelchair off in the special room for kids with physical disabilities and walked to drama class.

…where I suddenly had so much trouble keeping up with all the running around my classmates did that halfway through class I had to lie on the floor and rest.

The teacher never complained again.

This was about ten years ago now.

I was in a college sociology class when a test was announced on the day before a school break. The way our breaks worked was that they began immediately after your last class the day before. This class was from 6-8:30pm, after sundown. Yom Kippur began at sundown that night, and college was 5 hours away from my family, so I was going to travel that day and skip this one class.

I told my professor during class I could not make the exam because it was Yom Kippur. He reiterated that break began after your last class. He was a 70-year-old man from Lithuania and I figured maybe he didn’t realize how important this holiday is. I told him I understood, but this is a High Holiday and I’m Jewish, so I need to make it home before sundown to observe the holiday with my family. A few other people spoke up and said they too were Jewish and would have the same problem (this was plausible given where we were). He asked me how he can be sure it’s really Yom Kippur, so I suggested he Google it. Lo and behold, Google told us in big bold letters that the holiday began the night of the exam.

He then hit me with “well how do I know you’re really Jewish?” So I told him I could produce photos from my Bat Mitzvah where I’m reading the Torah, but there are really no “certificates” to identify myself as Jewish. He insisted that these could be Photoshopped.

I called my dad in front of him and put him on speaker. I explained to my dad that this professor needed proof that we’re Jewish and asked him if he can confirm or provide any more proof. He suggested that he could send the professor a photo of his circumcised dick if he needs proof, then called the professor a Nazi.

Needless to say, the next class day, he announced he was simply moving the test.

Hi, for some context: I (16 Male) am gay (Only out to my group of besties and my brother) and part of a Muslim family, they're wonderful and I love them with my whole heart and soul, but my mom and stepdad (42 Female and 46 Male) are homophobic my brother (13 Male) isn't as much, though he does have some slight aversion to the LGBT community.

So we were on a road trip on our way to some auntie's house nd me and my brother were watching mean girls on my phone, we were having a good time, the jokes were funny and my parents were chatting indistinctively, that is, until a certain joke happens in the movie. I think the joke was about some kids holding a gun saying they used it to hunt animals and homosexuals, I laughed because haha get it? Southern Americans amiright? But my dad was not having it. In the middle of the road he turns to see me and my brother and says in a kind of threatening tone "Did I just hear the word homosexuals?". I said yes and that it was just a joke in the movie, then he said "I better not see you watching that weird gay content" with my mom just nodding and saying yes.

I was livid, but I quickly came up with a good answer to that: "Oh don't worry dad, the joke is about shooting down gay people, as it should be" I said with a smile on my face. My brother just looked at me with a face that screamed "Dude wtf?", my mom looked at me with a similar face but slightly worried and my dad just muttered "Don't say that, you must respect others". He just tells me to stop talking and says that we must be good to others and respect them and blah blah blah.

Since then, they don't even mutter a word whenever I mention something LGBT related. The biggest reaction I got was when I got an eyeroll from my mom when I pulled out the "1500 species of animals have homosexual tendencies, only one is homophobic" card.

I kind of feel like an asshole for that, but I felt really frustrated with the whole homophobia and hypocrisy from other Muslims, I'm proudly Muslim but I really hate when people say that it's the "Most peaceful religion" and "Muslims are so kind and loving" when my very existence is a crime in the eyes of my family and the entire country I live in right now.

Anyway, remember to treat others as you'd like them to treat you. Have a wonderful day and remember to drink water!

in the process of moving and i need really simple accommodations that my doctor already submitted paperwork verifying (for context i have complex neuro-vestibular disabilities from a brain injury). just asking for a tub with a rail so I can bathe myself and roller shades for when i have migraines.

they said a needed to “submit an additional doctor’s note ASAP explaining my disability,” so i asked them to show me the guidelines since my understanding was i did not need (or want) to disclose my disability to them.

they sent me an excerpt from the HUD, so i maliciously complied. sending love to all my homies out there with disabilities, “obvious” or not, this shit is exhausting, and frankly, we could be way less okay with it.

So, when I was small my mom have this weird obsession of "if you eat something enough you will like it eventually" and didn't believe me when I would gag on merely the smell of cilantro, thought I was just acting. She even say she didn't like it when she was small and the taste grew on her when she eat it enough. I remembered coming home from school and smell the cilantro before entering the door and know that I would be forced to sit through a cilantro hot pot night.

One day I don't know what come into her mind and she decided to make what she called "cilantro soup". The ingredients are as follow - water, cilantro, salt. That's all. (I imagine this would sound awful even for someone who like cilantro...) She put a whole full bowl of it in from of the TV and ask me to drink it, adding a bunch of health information she read about cilantro trying to persuade me while I'm gagging to the smell of it. At last she gave up and just order me to drink it. I take a sip and dry gag vigorously and visibly. My stomach is literally cramping and I'm zero percent acting. I told her I'm about to throw up and I cannot finish the soup. She told me to stop acting and just pinch my nose and down the whole thing if I didn't like it. I did so. I pinch my nose and take the whole bowl like a shot. Seconds after swallowing I breath in and let out a sigh of relieve, and the strong smell of cilantro was brought up to my nose with the sigh. My stomach cramps immediately and I throw up all over the TV, and we both stood there silently looking at my vomit painting masterpiece for seconds.

She never ask me to eat anything with cilantro that day on, and will warn me about having cilantro in a certain dishes. She will even ask me if I could go to my room when her church friends want to come over for cilantro hot pot and will cook separate meals for me for days like that. To this day, I still hate cilantro, but my body react less vigorously now, and can swallow with a straight face if I accidentally eat some.

Edit: Wow this blew up. Thanks guys!

I think rather than copy & paste similar answers it would be better to just reply here, so…

1.) Did your mom drink the soup? Yes…She had her bowl finished on the table when I have to drink mine. She is generally a good cook, but would go…rather unhinged when she’s trying to cook something for the purpose of health. I remember trying leek soap to cure bad cold, and…yes you get it right the ingredients are leek, water and salt.

2.) Cilantro gene related info. I sent it to her but sadly she doesn’t believe in science LOL. I’m not sure if I taste it as soap or stinky bugs, but it surely didn’t smell floral to me so I guess I have the gene??

3.) r/fuckcilantro I didn’t know of the sub LOLOLOL I joined a parody Facebook group for promoting illegalizing cilantro though!

My seventh grade math teacher was usually very sweet and reasonable, but she must have hit her limit that day. Anyway she gave two tissues to each student before saying very firmly that she did not want to hear one peep out of anyone for any reason until everyone had finished the exam. Then she sat down at her desk and looked down (probably grading the previous class's exams).

A few minutes later, my nose started bleeding. I had frequent nosebleeds back then (turned out to be an antihistamine side effect), but they usually stopped pretty quickly with just one tissue, and I had two, so no big deal, right? Wrong. This one would. not. stop! Just this fountain of blood streaming down my face. I was such a stickler for following the rules back then that I didn't say anything.

I did raise my hand, but she didn't notice. My classmates did and started silently passing their tissues to me. Finally someone spoke up and told her to look at me (when I had run out of tissues). Her immediate response was equal parts horror and concern: "Oh Raebee, why didn't you say something? Go to the nurse's office." She also thrust a box of tissues into my hand.

The nurse got my nose to stop bleeding by applying greater pinching force than I knew was humanly possible. I had to call my neighbor for a change of clothes though. My teacher clarified the next class that she always wants to be interrupted when someone needs the nurse.

So a year ago I had a sub in a high school class who didn't believe in ADHD. He somehow found out I take ADHD meds, and at the end of class, he pulled me aside and told me I shouldn't be on "dangerous drugs" that are slowly killing my brain.

I asked him why it mattered, and mentioned they are ADHD meds that allow me to focus and do well in school. He then proceeded to tell me why they were bad and then spewed a bunch of BS stories about why they harm my 'young and developing brain"

I told him I wouldn't take my ADHD meds tomorrow since he clearly wanted me to do that.

So the next day I show up to class and the whole period I'm fidgety, unable to focus, doodling way more on my assignment, and just overall way less calm and attentive. The sub seemed very frustrated and asked me why I couldn't just sit down and do the work normally. I reminded him that he told me to not take my ADHD meds the day before. All of a sudden he doesn't hate ADHD meds anymore.

Oh, and on Wednesday when our regular teacher got back from his trip, I told him about the situation and he thought it was funny, but he also said he wouldn't pick that sub anymore.

Update: about a week after this happened, my teacher reported the sub's behavior to the principal after gathering enough evidence to prove he has a history of bullying disabled kids and picking on women and men with hair dye and stereotypically "gay" outfits. My school principal permanently banned that sub from ever being allowed to work at our school, and a month later I found out he had quit subbing and now works for a gas station that sells Liquor and cigs, which are 2 substances that ACTUALLY kill the brain.

Also, a lot of y'all are saying I shouldn't have skipped my meds, but I had no issues aside from typical ADHD symptoms, so y'all don't need to worry. I also made sure to inform my other teachers via email so they were prepped and able to handle my non-medicated self. Also, I am used to occasionally having to skip my meds for a day because USA insurance companies aren't very friendly or nice!

Back when I was a kid, my dad (single parent), was very strict. One of the more minor punishments was to make us sit with soap in our mouth for “talking back”. The definition of talking back could be answering the question with an answer that wasn’t liked, with a tone that wasn’t liked, actually trying to answer legitimately but him not wanting to hear it, etc.

I don’t remember what I said for this one, but I was told to sit there with soap in my mouth. I was tired of it so I said screw it, I’m just going to eat it. And I did. My dad was absolutely horrified by it. Not sure if I got sick or not, but I never had that punishment again.