I got outed at work this week because of a goddamn computer.
About a month ago, I started a new job at a pet store. I’d been a longtime customer before I got hired starting back when I got my chihuahua Beans seven years ago. I signed up with an email and a phone number so I could be entered into their points program.
When I transitioned and changed my name, I went through all of my accounts and switched them to my new name. Banks and airlines were shockingly no problem. TSA precheck and Social Security just required another in-person meeting. It was the most random places that made it hard. Marriott hotels, for example, were difficult. For a while whenever I traveled, I’d walk into the room with my deadname blaring on the TV.
This pet store account was another that just would not change. Every time I asked an employee, they would say I had to call the help line. Every time I called the help line, they’d say it was fixed. It never was. I deleted the account. It still popped up. It was weird, but it was one store, so I just left it. I would go there maybe once every six months and just expect to get deadnamed. No one would ever see it but me anyway, and I had more important things on my to-do list.
Last month, I started working at the same store. I hadn’t shopped there since January, so while I vaguely remembered there was something off about my account there, I didn’t put it together until after I got the job.
I logged into my existing account from the employee computer and removed my phone number. That account still had my old name but no phone number. I made a new account with my phone number. It didn’t work. When I logged in, it now said two options for my name: my old name and my new one. I thought it must be that whatever phone number you’ve ever used cannot be unlinked from your account. I changed the phone number on the old account to my father’s number, and it seemed like maybe that solved it. The next couple times I checked, my number only showed the name “Gabe.” It was my dad’s number that showed my deadname. (Fine. It’s not like he doesn’t know it.)
At my last job, I wasn’t allowed to shop using any points I’d accrued while employed there. At my current job, there’s no such restriction. I can log into my account and pay with any points I have as well as get points while I’m an employee. Sick.
If I’m buying something while I’m on the clock, the point of sale system we use doesn’t allow me to check myself out. A co-worker has to do it for me. I’m brand new at this job and have only one co-worker I’d say I’m beginning to be friendly with. Everyone else is nice, but I clearly haven’t been fully accepted yet. The inside jokes reign supreme, and I don’t know them. It’ll take time.
A few days ago, I wanted to buy myself a Gatorade. (We have a fridge full of them for customers.) Jenna, a co-worker I have spoken to maybe twice, went to the register and asked for my phone number. I gave it to her.
“There’s multiple people on this account,” she said, completely innocently. My blood ran cold. She looked up. “Which one should I use? There’s Gabe, there’s….” and she listed the full version of my deadname and the nickname version. How many accounts had I fucking made at this place?? Why were they all popping back up like Michael Myers trying to kill Jamie Lee Curtis?
“Um.” I literally felt dizzy. I just hadn’t been expecting this. I wasn’t in a secure headspace. I was under fluorescent lights in a retail environment.
I’m not ashamed of being trans. I have an Internet presence, so I’m used to being misgendered and deadnamed all the time. Why was I so upset? I quickly realized it was because this wasn’t being misgendered or being deadnamed.
This was being outed.
Jenna had no reaction. “The Gabe Shane one,” I said. She nodded and sold me my Gatorade. Then, a Doordash order came in and a customer asked me for help and some cans needed restocking and I had to check a grooming client out and through all of that my vision was blurry and I found it hard to stand or to get a full breath. I couldn’t think about anything but Jenna seeing that screen. I was desperate to know what she thought and who she would tell. I knew she was queer because she’d mentioned her girlfriend, but I didn’t know how she felt about trans people.
It wasn’t about Jenna specifically. It was about a very serious choice being taken away from me when I wasn’t ready or prepared for it. I’d worked at my old job for a year, and I’d told two people there that I was trans. Now it was my third week at this unfamiliar place, and my transness was already the first thing some of these people would ever know about me. I hadn’t even had full conversations with most of them. They’d just see me as “the trans guy” without getting to know me first.
My co-worker, Ella, a lesbian, the only one I’d say is becoming a friend, and the only one who knows I’m trans, was busy with scheduling puppy training classes. I tapped my fingers anxiously on the receipt printer waiting to talk to her. For those 15 minutes of bouncing on my heels, I probably looked like I was jonesing for her to sell me more cocaine. Finally, I got her alone by the register, turning my back to the sales floor. “The fucking computer outed me,” I said.
She nodded. “Yeah, I saw that.”
“What? You saw it just now? You saw that Jenna saw?” I hadn’t noticed Ella up front during my Gatorade purchase at all. She clarified she wasn’t.
“When I checked you out the last time, I saw it,” she said. “And then when you walked away Mario [our boss] saw it and asked me who that was on your account.”
“Jesus fuck,” I replied. “What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“So Mario knows?”
She wasn’t sure.
I asked what she thought I should do. I felt so self-conscious and small. I wanted to crawl under the dog beds. I imagined everyone there thinking about my budding facial hair and my secret surprise vagina. Like I was a specimen at a freak show. I was breathing shallowly. I had to talk to Mario. I had to stop panicking. Ella agreed.
I approached Mario who was in the back checking in some cat litter. How would I start the conversation? I didn’t want him to think I was mad at him or at the store. I didn’t want him to think I was quitting. More importantly, I didn’t want him to think I was like, one of those trans people who can’t hang. I didn’t want his first introduction to my being trans to be me Karen-ing over some “misgendering” minutia. Now, my coming out would be paired with a complaint. I was an annoying little woke baby. He’d never see me as his cool male work friend.
I asked if we could talk. I kept repeating, “Nothing bad. Nothing about you or the store, I promise.” We got to the office and he sat down at the desk. I closed the door and stood next to it for some awkward reason.
I told him the computer system had my old name and that Jenna had seen it. I said I knew he’d seen it too when Ella had checked me out. I wanted to know if there was any way I could speak to the corporate office about this. We’d had sensitivity training around race, gender, and sexuality issues. I’m sure I am not the first person to have this problem. The execs needed to see how this was really bad for customers.
Mario knew what I meant about the name changes being a hassle. It was kind of a common complaint. I was shocked. “And they’re okay with this affecting a customer base?” I said, thinking of all the trans people who would simply go somewhere else rather than deal with this.
I ran through everything I’d done, and Mario believed me that none of it had worked. He suggested I tell people that the other name is a sibling.
I laughed. “My deadname is very similar to my current name, so I think they’d notice that.”
Mario looked genuinely confused. “Deadname?”
I blinked. What? “My old name.”
He squinted. “Your… deadname?”
“Mario, what? I’m trans.”
His eyes widened. He was suddenly a manager dealing with a potential lawsuit. That is exactly what I didn’t want. I didn’t want eggshells. I decided to finally sit down as he stammered, “Uh, well. We accept everyone here and I don’t think anyone at the store has a problem with…”
I cut him off. “Yeah, no. You guys are great. That’s why I said it’s not about you or the store. I’m asking if there’s someone at corporate who I could tell this to so they can avoid problems in the future.” I said. “I think I should let them know because I’m fine but other people won’t be.” Mario said he’d look into finding me someone to talk to.
“I’m sorry to make a big deal,” I said. “I just didn’t want to have to do this so soon. I don’t know if it’s spreading around the store but yeah, it’s not how I wanted to do this with you guys.”
Mario was back in manager mode. “No one at the store is gossiping about it, I promise. I…” He averted his eyes, kind of embarrassed now. “I didn’t even realize that’s what it was. This right now is the first time I’m learning that you’re trans. I won’t tell anyone and you know, you’re just Gabe to me so I’ll call you whatever you want me, us, to call you.”
Oh no.
Mario hadn’t actually put it together when he saw the other names on my account. He really thought I might have a sister with almost the exact same name as me. It does happen. I once met twins named Roy and Roya (after their father).
However, Jenna is more savvy — and more queer — than Mario. The computer had outed me to her. I’d outed myself to Mario.
He rambled on. “And I am totally okay with it and no one at the store has said anything to me and I don’t think anyone here would give you a hard time or…”
He was deeply in manager-oh-no-a-trans-employee-I-have-to-handle-this-exactly-right” mode. I’d caught him off guard. I could see the sensitivity training whirring in his head.
I cut him off and thanked him just so I could get the hell out of that office. Nothing against Mario, who is sweet, but I was now being treated exactly how I didn’t want to be treated. I don’t need special care at work just so I don’t yell at you about my pronouns. And why am I even judging myself for that? Am I so desperate to seem fun to cis people? (Yes. Obviously. Internalized transphobia hits hard.) I can learn from this to both be a little less rigid, a little more careful, and a whole lot more comfortable advocating for myself.
Ella left me a little paper star she made that says “Shine on.” Neither Jenna nor anyone else has brought it up at all. I haven’t worked the same shift as Mario since this happened. Most likely, it will be fine. I can’t always control how people are going to see me. It sucks that this choice was taken from me, but maybe it’s exposure therapy. I ended up getting a flip phone anyway, for unrelated reasons. I made a brand new customer account with this brand new phone number. I am leaving the points I’ve collected in the dust, even though I love a deal. I tested the new account last night with another co-worker. This time, it worked.
