There was the time when the grocery checker at the express checkout sent me to another register because he said my oxygen tank (which was in the child seat) put me over the number-of-items limit, then laughed as he told the next person in line that he knew it didn't count but he just hated waiting on 'welfare queens'. By the time I finished paying for my groceries and got to the manager to complain, someone who had overheard the exchange had already been there; the manager was extraordinarily kind and horrified at the employee's behavior, and the cashier found himself among the unemployed.
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At a time when I was bed-ridden my legally appointed designee took my list to the store and used my stamps to purchase my groceries. This was back when the stamps were still paper coupons, and the transactions were obvious to other customers. One of those other customers followed my friend to the parking lot and loudly berated her as she loaded my groceries into her car, yelling that no one driving such a nice car should be allowed to 'abuse' the food stamps paid for by his taxes. She knew better than to argue with the idiot, but damned if it didn't make me sad that someone doing a huge favor for me would be treated so horribly.
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My license plates permit me to park in the designated 'handicap' spaces. If the lot is empty enough to allow for it, I'll enter a space and pull through to the next aisle so that I don't have to back up when it's time to leave; turning around to look is doable but difficult and sometimes painful. On one notable occasion I was preparing to pull forward when another vehicle came tearing down the aisle and pulled into that spot even though several others were available. The driver got out and strutted over to my car where he informed me that it pissed him off that people like me took unfair advantage, because "I'm not the one who made you crippled". In other words, he felt himself abused by my difficulties.
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Dining out has been extremely rare for years. On one of those rare occasions I was approached by a successful businessman who was aware of my circumstances. In front of the entire restaurant he screamed that I had no business expecting his taxes to provide my benefits if I was going to so blatantly squander his generosity (and I cleaned that up to share it here). My companions tried to explain that they were treating me for my birthday, but he was determined to have his say.
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A lengthy book could be written detailing the experiences in dealing with caseworkers (nowadays they're "technicians"
who view clients as toxic and treat us accordingly.
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