“Pray it ain’t so.”

At my initial Physical Therapy appointment recently,  I was recognized as female, despite my voluminous paperwork, which was clearly marked “M”.   Must have been the black capris, turtleneck blouse, flats, purse, nccklace, long hair and light pink nails. 

So at my most recent appointment (just before Easter) I decided to try to determine whether wearing my slide sandals this spring would hurt PT progress.   My wife and I first wondered about that a few days ago, now that sandal weather is on the doorstep.   So for the next visit, we decided I should wear the outfit shown below, complete with my white sandals.  No better way to get an answer than by wearing them to my next appointment.

From the moment I walked in the door, and for the rest of my appointment, I was referred to as female…starting with “follow me please, Miss (insert now-female given name here.)”   Followed by Ms. (with last name) several times, then my female therapist asked a question of another therapist and referred to me as  “she.” 

As for the question about my sandals, the therapist told me: “sandals don’t provide much support.  But you can change to something with more support if they begin to hurt, and you should be fine.  Just don’t wear your 3” or 4”  heels for a few months.”  Wow…wonderful!  I was savoring every minute of affirmation as the girl I enjoy being.

But I hadn't the slightest inkling as to what was about to occur after I left the Physical Therapy office…

One of the exercises the therapist showed me, to start doing daily at home, involves the use of an item to be picked up at a nearby pharmacy.  So I stopped in at one my wife and I both occasionally use.  The female clerk/greeter addressed me appropriately, and gave me the aisle number for what I needed.   In retrospect, I recall noticing the male clerk standing beside her was "checking me out" quite intently, and I briefly wondered about that, but dismissed it.   I hadn’t seen either of them before.  Maybe both were new employees? 

They both were working their cash registers when I approached with my purchase in hand, and got in line.  Very busy at that point in time.  The lady being waited on by the male clerk smiled at both the lady in front of me, and yours truly, apologizing for taking so long.  The lady directly in front of me in line, then got the female clerk once she became available.  That left me waiting for the male clerk, probably about mid-40something.  He didn’t seem at all friendly to her, and when it was my turn, curtly gave me the price of the item. 

I still don’t know why I pulled cash out of my purse rather than my credit card, which turned out to be a good decision.  (Women's intuition?)  While he was getting a bag for my purchase and starting to make change, he leaned over the counter and whispered quietly (so as not to be heard by others nearby), but in a bit of a huffy tone: “Are you a man or a woman?” 

If I had been sitting, I’d have fallen out of my chair. 

The only other time I’ve been asked that question was several years ago, by an elderly resident at the nursing home.  And since staff knew my gender, I answered truthfully.  This time around, having just come from a very affirming PT session,  something like that exchange couldn’t have been further from my mind.

In a split-second decision, I decided to not answer his question directly.  He didn’t know who I was, since I had used cash.  So I replied with a question of my own:  “So, which do YOU think?”   “Definitely a man.  Why are you wearing women's clothes? ”  (Perhaps I WAS a bit under-dressed: no makeup - but fortunately minimal beard shadow as it was soon after my morning shave, no bracelet, no earrings, no wedding ring, no perfume.)   Side-stepping his question again, I responded: “Well, you had a 50% chance of guessing correctly, and today's your lucky day.  If I were a natal woman, you'd be in serious trouble right now with management, for humiliating a customer in public.” 

Undeterred and unrepentant, this guy kept "beating the dead horse":  “So you’re a tranny then.”  “No – transgender.”  He said: “Same difference, either way you’re a tranny, and I thank God I’m not a tranny like you.”  “I’m glad you aren’t, too.  You’re far too impertinent.  But remember, 'it is what it is.'”  “No, it isn’t.  You need to start dressing and acting like a man.”  I cut him off at that point, because the tone seemed to indicate he was preparing to recite the merits of Deuteronomy 22:5.   “That’s your opinion, sir, and you’re entitled to it.   Furthermore, I don’t know about "your God", but my God loves and respects everyone equally.  Yes, even people like you.  And I thank my God that most people don't think the way you do.”  I got a very disgusted grimace/angry stare as he handed me the package, and my change, with nary a word of “thanks for being a customer.”

Apparently I "got his goat."  So I decided to agitate him some more, this time with a big smile:  “Now, let’s reboot this discussion.  You and your family have a blessed Easter and a wonderful weekend.  I know I will, with my family around me.”  From him, nothing but that disgusted grimace  and glare (again…)   

Could he finally have realized: “nothing to see here…time to move on?”   Naaahhhh…

As I started toward the door, I had to walk past the female clerk.  As soon as I began moving, he rushed over to her and started whispering in her ear.  Not overly quietly.  Why would I suspect it might be regarding me?  All I had to hear was “tranny” as I passed, and it became obvious.  

The female clerk looked directly at me as I passed by, smiled sweetly regardless of the still-babbling idiot by her side, thanked me for shopping with them, and added “Have a wonderful Easter, Ma’am.”  “You too, dear!”  By that point, the opinionated, obnoxious guy looked like he was choking on his own saliva.  (Rather humorous to see, I might add.)  No problem, he deserved it.

Before you ask, no, I don’t plan on making an issue of this incident, as it’s a store my wife and I both patronize on occasion.   I won’t “rock the boat” within about 50 miles of home on this side of the bay, for obvious reasons.  But I’m happy that instinct told me to pay cash.   IMHO I don’t think he’ll be around long…he’s definitely not customer-oriented and was not friendly with the natal woman in front of me, either.  I forgot to look back to see if others were in line to witness his "performance."  

If I were his boss, there would be no Academy Award for him.  He’d be out of a job – for cause - the moment I caught wind of his “job-lack-of-performance.”  Had this happened anywhere across the bay, I WOULD have asked for the manager.  And if he WERE the manager, then I’d have asked for contact info for his boss.

An hour afterward, I was still shaking my head in disbelief.  Unfortunately this type of thing is likely to become more frequent in the lives of each of us.  Is he an evangelical, ultra-conservative, far-right-wing hater as well?  Very likely.  (The “powers that be” in DC keep stirring this type of behavior, with name-calling,  chipping away at basic human civility, LGBTQ protections, and adding restrictions to our lives.   Their "base" loves it.)

“Pray it ain’t so…”   And remember to VOTE in 2020.

End of rant...

Mandy

PS:  In retrospect, if I had answered "Woman" to his initial question,  I wonder what he would have done?  Ask for my driver's license to look for that telltale "F" or "M"?  Rush around the counter, to grab my "pussy" and verify what's between my legs (like from that old movie, the "Crocodile Dundee" test?  As Mick Dundee said, "Just making sure" after being introduced to a very masculine-looking-and-sounding woman.)   Call the police to try to turn me in for impersonating a woman?   None would be desirable outcomes, for either of us.  Police presence is embarrassing for everyone, the subsequent lawsuits are messy, and take forever to resolve.  And the only ones who win are lawyers.  Fortunately, that didn't happen...