I was going to refill my prescriptions. One of them was more urgent than the other, and of course, that one was not in stock anywhere, nor were any of the recommended substitutes.

I booked an appointment with my doctor who, just like me, started looking through stock. Eventually, she found one that had the same medicine in another dosage, which could be adapted to what I needed, so she wrote a new prescription.

Doctor: “You know, they recommend you to build up a stock now because of situations like this.”

Me: “But I can’t take out that much.”

Doctor: “I’ve written prescriptions to last you for half a year.”

I went to the pharmacy and checked how much I could take out and, as usual, I could only take out medicine for one month and get more when that month neared the end.

Me: “My doctor said she wrote a prescription so I could take out more.”

Pharmacist: “I’m sorry, but the prescription is for one month, and then it can be refilled. But it only says one month at a time.”

Me: “Isn’t it the state recommending that we build up a supply?”

Pharmacist: “Yes, that is correct.”

Me: “So, how am I supposed to do that, then?”

Pharmacist: “Well, your doctor could prescribe you for three months at a time, but then you’d have to wait three months before taking out more, so I honestly don’t know.”

Me: “Could my doctor write that I should have more than three months?”

Pharmacist: “Perhaps, but we aren’t allowed to hand out for more than three months, as that would be illegal.”

Recommendations are good and all, but please make sure we are allowed to follow them.

I had a very bizarre conversation with a patron at our library today. She is a regular and always has interesting takes on things. We’ve just had a big event, and the library has been packed with people all day, most of them children. As a result, the cloakroom is overflowing, and there’s been some irritation. As we’re about to close for the day, this regular patron comes up to me.

Patron: “I just had the perfect idea; I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it already.”

Me: “Okay? Let’s hear it and we’ll see what we can do.”

The patron points to a space in the back of the library near where we have our offices.

Patron: “What if you put up a lot of hangers on the wall over there, and people can hang their jackets and put baby carriages and bags and stuff away back there? They’ll be out of the way, and there’ll be so much more space in the lobby!”

Me: “That is a good idea. Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to put anything back there at all because of the fire escape. If we block that door, the fire department will be breathing down our necks.”

Patron: “Oh, you shouldn’t have to listen to the fire department. It’s not like there’s ever going to be a fire here. Besides, why do you need a fire escape back there? Everyone will use the one up front.”

Me: “Depends on where the fire is. Also, it’s the closest one to our staff area and offices.”

Patron: “Staff needs their own fire escape? If there’s a fire, aren’t you supposed to stay behind and carry all the books out?”

Me: “I assure you, if there’s a fire, the books would be the least of our concerns. The policy is to always save lives first. We can buy new books.”

Patron: “But… but… that’s taxpayer money!“

Related:
Because Retail Workers Aren’t Human, Part 2
Because Retail Workers Aren’t Human

For the record, I am a woman, and I’m the one in charge of the Internet service and bills of the house. I’m also a programmer and gamer. My partner is a man.

One night, our doorbell rings at home, and I open the door.

Man: “Hello. Is [Partner] home?”

Me: “Yes.”

Man: “Can you call him?”

I do.

Man: *To my partner* “Which Internet provider do you have? How much are you paying?”

Partner: “That’s not something I handle. That’s her.” *Gestures to me*

Man: “Oh. In that case, I think she can listen to our talk, as well.”

By now, I considered this the first strike. He has learned that the Internet in the house was under my name, but I can still only listen.

Also, sadly, my partner wants to keep him going, while I would have shut the salesman down way earlier.

Man: “Do you know that your Internet price is now [amount] and will be [higher amount] starting next year?”

Me: “Wrong. I have the contract here, and these are the values we have now and will have next year.”

Man: “No, that can’t be right. That’s a good deal.”

Partner: “Yeah, she knew how to negotiate with them.”

We go back and forth about three times; he doesn’t believe the prices we have, even though I’ve shown him the contract.

Strike two.

Man: “And what speed do you have?”

Me: “500 Mb.”

Man: “Hmm, I don’t have anything to offer with that speed. But if you lower the speed, you can get a cheaper price.”

Well, duh!

Me: “Not interested.”

Man: *To my partner* “Are you a gamer?”

Partner: “Yes.”

Man: “But probably you can get by with a bit of a slower connection.”

Partner: *Pointing at me* “Again, she handles that.”

Man: *Very condescending* “Why do you need such speed? Obviously, you don’t need that.”

Strike three.

Me: “I am also a gamer! We both work from home. If we both want to play online, 250 Mb makes us lag in games.”

Man: *Very shocked and frustrated* “Oh, well… then I can’t really offer you anything. But remember my offer for next year.”

And then he finally goes away.

Partner: “Why was he so fixated on talking with me?”

Me: “Welcome to being a woman when it comes to technology.”

One thing is for sure: we won’t even consider that provider if I can’t negotiate a good contract with my current provider.

When I was seven or so, I went to my mom around dinnertime to ask her the most important question of them all.

Me: “Mom? Can I ask you something very serious?”

My mom put down the cooking and turned to me.

Mom: “Of course! What’s up?”

Me: “Is Santa real?”

Mom: “Is… well, you know, it depends?”

Me: “On what?”

Mom: “Um… I mean… You know, like, some things are more true if you believe in them. Like we talked about yesterday, that things like justice isn’t something that you find in nature but make by believing in it.”

Me: “Okay?”

Mom: “So… Many things are like that. Do you believe in Santa?”

Me: “I don’t know. I think so?”

Mom: “Then I think so too.”

Me: “Good! Then you can tell me how Santa can get presents to all kids at the same time? [Older Brother] told me that it is physically impossible for someone to be everywhere at once, and Christmas is the same day in the whole world. Based upon that there are like, at least one million kids in the world, how does Santa be everywhere at once? And magic isn’t real, you told me that last week.”

Mom pondered this for a moment until she very seriously said:

Mom: “Well, there’s multiple Santas.”

Me: “What? Really?”

Mom: “They have divided the world into Santa Districts, and we all have our own Santa. Everyone celebrates Christmas the same day, but we get presents at different times and so one Santa can visit a reasonable amount of homes every Christmas.”

Me: “Really?”

Mom: “They are all part of the Santa Guild, a sort of labour union for Santas, and they spend the rest of the year working for the Post Office.”

Me: “Wow! Thanks mom!”

And off I went to play. I figured it out before the next Christmas, but the “Santa Guild” kept on being a family meme ever since. I still think that this is the most reasonable solution to the Santa problem!

I am currently at an unemployment office (Alfakassan in Sweden) to obtain a referral for a job I have lined up. Part of my application requires a full background check of three years, two of which can easily be filled with a reference from Alfakassan.

It’s important to note that before turning up, I corresponded with my former work coach and asked for this meeting, which they then approved, and they told me that they had all the relevant paperwork for my reference ready. Happy days! Or so I thought.

I turn up to the office at 1:40 pm and talk to the receptionist.

Me: “Hello. I have a meeting with [Work Coach] at 2:00 pm.”

Receptionist #1: “Okay, can I have your personal number?”

Me: “It’s [personal number].”

Receptionist #1: “It says on my computer that you stopped applying for unemployment since you were starting a new job.”

Me: “Yes, that’s why I’m here. I arranged a meeting with [Work Coach] to obtain a reference.”

Receptionist #1: “Oh, for that, you will need to fill out this form, then.”

She hands me a form before bluntly answering a phone at her desk, practically ushering me away to complete the form. Bear in mind that this is during the health crisis, so a lot of people are applying for unemployment. Most unemployment offices close at 6:00 pm, and the queue for the reception already wraps around the building. I decide to take the form, grab a coffee and a bun, and fill it out before rejoining the queue.

Forty minutes of queuing later, I finally get my turn at the reception, only this time there’s another person there. By the way, it’s now well past my meeting time with [Work Coach]. I have emailed them about the form and waiting in line, but they have so far not responded.

Me: “Hi. I was told I need to fill out this form, and I was meant to meet with [Work Coach] at 2:00 pm, but—”

Receptionist #2: “If you are late for your meeting, you will need to rebook for your unemployment.”

Me: *Starting to get a little bit agitated* “I’m not here for unemployment. I’m here for a reference, which was already agreed on between me and [Work Coach].”

Receptionist #2: “Oh. Have you filled out [exact same form I just mentioned I have already filled out]?”

Me: “Yes, it’s right here.”

Receptionist #2: “Okay, I will get in touch with [Work Coach], but you are in for a wait; they are going to be busy with other claimants. Next time arrive on time, okay?”

I let the last comment go and take a seat. The hours drag on.

And on.

And on.

At 5:20 pm, they start cutting the queue down to the immediate next ten claimants, as they will not be able to help anyone else that day. Since nobody has come to see me yet, I march over to the reception.

Me: “I’m sorry, I’ve been waiting in that seat for the last four hours to meet with [Work Coach] for a reference. What is going on?”

Receptionist #1: “Have you got an appointment?”

I am trying SO HARD not to raise my voice.

Me: “I did — at 2:00 pm. But I had to unexpectedly fill out this form you gave me for it!”

Receptionist #1: “Wait, you said you’re here for a reference?”

F****** SERIOUSLY?!

Me: “…Yes!”

She pulls a stack of paper from a small pile to her left and hands it to me.

Receptionist #1: “You could have just said that when you arrived.”

I wordlessly took the reference and stormed the f*** out of there. Over four hours wasted over nothing. No wonder people lie about their referrals.