(The doorbell at my work is connected to the phones, so the intercom basically calls our central phone line from an extension and we can open the door with a short code. We have two buildings, so it is quite common for us to buzz in coworkers from the other building. I witnessed my colleague’s part of this conversation and he told me the rest later. The phone rings and my colleague answers.)

Caller: “Hi, it’s [Caller]. Can you let me in, please?”

Colleague: “Sure.”

(Before he can hit the buttons to open the door, two things occur to him: first, there is no one by the caller’s name working here, and second, this is an external call. A second later, he makes the connection between the name, the voice, and a customer he had talked to a bit earlier.)

Colleague: “Ms. [Caller]? Is that you?”

Caller: “Yes, of course, it’s me!”

Colleague: “Um, Ms. [Caller], this is [Colleague]. You called me.”

Caller: “[Colleague]? How the heck did I call you? I rang my office’s doorbell!”

Colleague: “Okay, that’s weird. Er, well, nice talking to you, but I guess I’ll hang up now?”

Caller: “Right. I’ll try that again, and — no offense — I hope I don’t end up with you again.”

(She didn’t end up with him again and wasn’t left standing in front of their door. I’m just sad my colleague didn’t test if he could have opened that door from 100 km away.)

(My sister-in-law and I take my one-year-old daughter to a famous Swedish furniture store. I find a nice parking space in the family parking area, almost right in front of the entrance. My daughter is still young but will not tolerate a stroller at the moment, so I’m quite happy about not having to carry her through the whole lot. We are debating buying a new desk for my sister-in-law and toys for my daughter while getting out of the car and getting our bags, so we’re not really attentive to other cars. I am on my way back to the door to get my daughter out of her seat when an SUV stops right behind our car and a lady starts yelling at us. As I am not paying attention, I don’t quite catch what she is yelling and think she is asking whether we are moving soon. So I gesture and tell her:)

Me: “No, we just arrived and are heading into the store right now.”

Lady: *quite snippy and loudly yelling* “You do know this is for Mother-Child Parking?!”

Me: *finally understanding her* “Erm, yeah. So?”

Lady: *still yelling* “You can’t park here! You don’t have a child!”

Me: “Well, I do.”

(I start again going to the other door, as I had stopped to talk with her.)

Lady: “I need this parking space; you don’t have a child!”

Me: “We are here with my daughter, so stop yelling. There is another parking space right over there!”

(I pointed one car down, in the direction where she must have come from. There were more a few more cars down, too. I finally went over to the other door and began getting my daughter out of her seat, amazed that she didn’t start fussing. All the time, I almost expected the lady to get out of her car and check whether we really had a child with us. She did stay with her car right there, blocking the way, and watched us getting the baby out, locking the doors, and going into the store. I can understand resentment against those wrongly using the parking spaces meant for families just for convenience’s sake, but just because we preferred getting our bags out before handling a handful of baby, it doesn’t warrant a yelling fit.)

(I’m in the waiting area of our children’s new doctor after we moved into the city where the grandparents live. My twins have a cold and we need an official document for my employer so I can stay at home to take care of them. We make an appointment before arriving as early as they open, but as it’s cold season, it’s packed with patients waiting for an opening. A lady with her daughter comes in and asks for her to see the doctor.)

Receptionist: “We can try to fit you in, but sadly, it’s at least an hour to wait, probably more.”

Mother: “That is just too long. I need to run some errands for Christmas and I just don’t have time to wait that long. She was sent home from elementary school because she threw up; the doctor just needs to see if it’s anything serious and it will only take a minute.”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, but everybody here is waiting and we can’t just let you skip all of them. We could put you on the waiting list and give you a call when you will be up far enough to get back within half an hour, and then you will not have to wait here.”

Mother: “Well, okay, but make sure to call me early enough so I can come back in time.”

(She then, to my surprise, takes her daughter to the waiting area. She takes the girl’s coat and scarf off, hangs them, and starts to explain to her that Mommy will be going now, but she will be back before the doctor will see her and that she just has to wait and maybe read some books or play with the toys in the waiting area. I’m really upset and I just can’t believe it, but she is about to leave her sick six- or seven-year-old daughter alone to wait here, which is totally not okay. A father next to the girl’s chair seems to think likewise and speaks up.)

Man: “You can’t leave her here to wait alone! Your child can’t just be unattended!”

Mother: “Keep your opinion to yourself. The receptionist said it’s okay; they will call me before she will be seen by the doctor.”

Me: “They certainly did not mean that you could leave without her!”

Mother: *sighs loudly* “You can all care for your own business, please. My daughter is very well-behaved and it’s the doctor’s office; she will be totally fine.”

(The daughter, meanwhile, is quiet all the time and looks tired and a bit squeamish. Her mother hugs her and leaves. The receptionist is talking on the phone and says nothing as the mother walks by, and I’m very astounded. Then, we get called up by the nurse. I can’t help but speak my mind a bit.)

Me: “I’m sorry. We have not been your patients for very long, and maybe that is how you handle things usually, but I don’t think it’s okay to have little kids wait alone for their appointment. It’s just not right.”

(The nurse is obviously shocked and asks what I mean by that. I point the girl out and tell her what happened. The father and other waiting parents join in and confirm the story. The nurse gets very silent, thanks us, and points us to our consultation room, and then she goes over to the girl. We wait a lot more inside the doctor’s room. Finally, he comes and checks the kids, and we get some prescriptions for the blocked noses and the papers we need. At the end, he asks me about the mother again.)

Doctor: “So, what did the mother say when you asked her about leaving?”

Me: “Basically to mind my own business and such. I take it that it is not regularly that kids that young are left here to wait alone?”

Doctor: “No, not at all. We were all shocked about it; it has never happened before. We called her straight away, but she was not answering her phone. As her number is the emergency contact, as well, we had to call the police and ask for help. They wanted to ask you some questions before you leave, as well.”

(Outside, we meet up with two policemen. The girl, I’m told, has been allowed to lay down and rest on the couch in the doctor’s private office, and sleeps after he checks on her and gives her some appropriate medication. The mother, meanwhile, has been reached and is said to be on her way back. The policemen ask me again about what happened and as I tell it, the mother enters.)

Mother: “Where is my daughter? She’s not in the waiting area, and I specifically asked you to call me before she gets seen by the doctor. As you said, it’s at least an hour; I was not expecting your calls and did not notice them until now. Was she called up early? Is she in one of the rooms?”

(The receptionist simply points to the police and the mum’s colour drains at the realisation. She looks shocked as she is addressed by the policeman and starts asking what happened and if her daughter is fine. The policeman looks sternly at her.)

Policeman: “Your sick daughter was abandoned by her mother at the doctor’s office, and imagine that she went outside because she felt sick and alone. Imagine her telling the receptionist that she just wants to go out to her mummy. Imagine the receptionist assuming you are just outside the door for a smoke. But your little daughter walks away, feeling unwell and confused, looking desperately for her mommy. Imagine that, please, as hard as you can. And then think about who would have caused that. How you caused that possibility by abandoning her here. And when you realise how lucky you are and what kind of mistake you made, then I really hope that you will never ever do something like that again. Because there is no penalty that would help in any way if you still think you did no wrong.”

(We decide to get takeout and I go to a Chinese restaurant near our home. It is a buffet-style restaurant; they do offer made-to-order takeout in a separate menu, but it seems to be used rather seldom. The staff is obviously kind of annoyed by having to deal with this unfamiliar territory. I order two sets of food with rice, mini spring rolls for the kids, and extra rice. Extra rice is marked as 1€ on the menu. They try to put it in the till, but they can’t find the extra rice in their system. They tell me they will ring it up as a drink, instead. I am fine with that, and the food arrives packed up to take with me, but it turns out that the drink costs 1,50€.)

Server: “That will be 16,50€.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but your menu says the extra rice is 1€; the drink you billed me for is 1,50€.”

Server: “Yes. That is true.”

(No apology, no remorse whatsoever is shown.)

Me: “Well… I don’t want to make a fuss for 0,50€, but you should really try to correct that.”

Server: “You want to pay cash or card?”

Me: “Cash.”

(I hand her 17€, and she puts it in her server-wallet as their till is only for entering the order and getting receipts. She makes no attempt to give me my change. The whole deal is just very rude and so, even though it is not a big sum, I am quite annoyed.)

Me: ”Sorry, but I gave you 17€.”

Server: “Yes, so?”

Me: “I should get my 0,50€ change.”

Server: “You want the change?”

Me: “Well, you are already overcharging me for the extra rice, so yeah, please give me my change.”

(She grumbled in Chinese and gave me my change. I know no Chinese, but the universal “this customer is a bother to me and can go die in a ditch” tone needs no translation. Food was good, but the attitude almost spoiled it for me. We had thought about trying the buffet there, but based on that experience we would rather not.)

(I’m in my twenties. As I walk back home after shopping with my parents, I drop to the ground with a seizure and injure my head on the pavement. My parents call an ambulance and I get taken care of at the hospital. In the middle of it, my dad snaps a picture of me on the sidewalk, bleeding from my head. After spending a night in the hospital, I post the picture in my coworkers’ chat group, informing them I won’t come in for four weeks per doctor’s orders. My coworkers express their get-well-soons, and I get examinations for the cause of the seizure. After a week, my doctor tells me I’m not allowed to drive a car for three months due to insurance reasons. I immediately panic as my daily work commute plan goes out the window, I reach out to my works council to set up a meeting with the CEO and my shift lead. After the pleasantries are exchanged:)

Me: “The reason I asked for this meeting is because I’m not allowed to drive a car at the moment, and I was wondering if we could work out alternative work hours so I can use public transportation or some kind of plan how else I can get to work.”

CEO: “So, wait. You want to get back to work?”

Me: “Well, my sick leave is still in effect for another three weeks, but yeah, I’d like to come back.”

CEO: “Oh, great. I thought you wanted to announce you’d be gone for half a year or so. [Works Council] showed me a picture of you bleeding on a sidewalk; that must’ve hurt quite badly, didn’t it?”

Me: “Honestly, I don’t remember the fall at all. I just suddenly woke up in an ambulance headed for the hospital. Getting that wound stitched together was kind of uncomfortable, though.”

CEO: “You still have some overtime in your account, right? And some leftover vacation days too?”

Me: “I guess, last I checked 10 days vacation and some 60 hours OT.”

CEO: “Let me go to the HR office real quick to crunch some numbers.”

(They leave.)

Works Council: “Hey, [Coworker] lives in [Town near my parents’ town]. Maybe you can carpool with him?”

Me: “If he’s okay with it, that’s a valid option. But isn’t he off the early-late shift rotation and always starts at seven?”

Shift Lead: “That’s not a problem. We can put you off rotation until you can drive here by yourself again.”

(The CEO gets back.)

CEO: “So, HR and I came up with a little plan. We need you to reduce your overtime hours, anyway, so if you take your leftover vacation and some 50 hours, you can stay home and recover properly.”

(It is late-October and it dawns on me they intend to send me home for the rest of the year.)

Me: “Wait. You’re telling me I’d be done with work for the year?”

Works Council: “It would greatly reduce your carpool time, as well. [Shift Lead], are you okay with that?”

Shift Lead: “I’d have to swap some people around, but it is manageable.”

Me: “I don’t know what to say. I was panicking back home as I didn’t know how I could come here, and now you took this huge load off my shoulders.”

CEO: “I’d rather have you here healthy and fit than bleeding everywhere and stressed out. Go home, get some rest, recover, and I’ll see you on January 2nd. Just keep us updated if your doctor finds something serious.”

(My CEO has a reputation of being demanding, but when times get tough they totally have their workers’ backs. I ended up carpooling with my coworker for three weeks, but stopped doing the voluntary night shifts, as my doctor suspected my messed-up sleep cycle to be responsible for the seizure.)