I worked at a summer camp and was working the girls' registration area. A chubby little boy with a strange bowlcut and his mother walked up to me, looking very confused.
"Do we go here?" asked the the obese, southern-accented mother.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry. The boys' registration line is down there." I replied, gesturing down the hall to the other registration table.
"Ivy's a girl." said the mother with a now stern and disappointed southern accent.
I had called her boyish daughter, who was wearing khaki shorts and white polo while sporting an undeniable boyish haircut, a boy.
Flustered, I apologized and made it seem like I had made a mistake in where the registration tables were, but it was to no avail. The damage was done. I then had to instruct them through a 10 minute application/registration process while she and her girlboy remained nothing short of cold and annoyed.
I felt like an ass and I deserved it. So did she for giving her child such an androgynous hair style and fashion sense. Poor Ivy.