Among other things, our community center houses a toddler library every Friday. They end at the same time that some of the language classes we host have their break. So, when the moms with the small children come flowing out of the library and want to order coffee and lunch, we’re already swamped with two classes.

Somehow those moms always remain blind to the chaos, and rattle off their orders faster than our register – not to mention us – can keep up, all the while their toddlers are running rampant and trying to get behind the counter.

When the classes go back to their classrooms and the moms and toddlers are all settled, my coworkers and I sit down for our own lunch. The moms have all congregated near the toy corner. Some toddlers are playing there. Some are running up and down the large stairway that houses books and board games in cabinets to the side. They don’t hesitate to fling books off shelves and onto the stairs. The mess is unbelievable. The moms don’t care.

The moms get ready to leave. Some toddlers cry out that they want to ‘help’ clear the tables. So off the moms send them… one tiny item at a time… to run behind the counter and place it wherever. One saucer goes there, one straw to the other place, a spoon disappears in another corner… etc., etc.

We have a table on wheels next to the counter where the dirty dishes go… but they don’t seem to realize this as they pass it at least ten times, all the while the moms are praising them from their seats to high heaven for doing such a good job cleaning it all up.

We’re looking on with weary eyes from our break table. I address my coworker, a young woman, but with the soul of a worn hospitality veteran.

Me: “Are we gonna let this happen, or are we allowed to step up?”

Coworker: “No use. They never listen. We’ll deal with it later; it’s literally not worth it.”

Eventually, the moms try to gather their children to put on their coats, all the while praising how helpful they’ve been. I see them literally stepping over some books their kids have flung down.

They finally leave.

I go over to their tables and see it still covered with paper wrappings, half-eaten raisin boxes, fruit peels (they’re not even allowed to bring their own food), and toys, muffin crumbs, and errant raisins strewn literally all over our communal area. One electric toy is still on, making a noise every few seconds, but is somehow nowhere to be found.

I try to tackle the mess and find pieces of muffin stuffed inside some of the toys. I finally find the noisy toy in a box that they put in a pot from the kitchen play set, which they then hid in the play kitchen cabinet.

My coworker comes over and simply sighs and shoves all the toys to the corner with her foot.

Coworker: “One of these days, I’m going to get a giant trash bag and chuck it all in there. People gotta start realizing we’re not a daycare, but somehow higher-ups refuse to let go of the play area.”

Me: “About time that higher-ups are going to clean it for once.”

Coworker: “They keep saying the moms are supposed to have that responsibility.”

Me: “Responsibility? You think they even know what that word means?”

The doorbell rings, and my wife goes to take it. It’s a door-to-door salesman.

Salesman: “Hi, can I speak to the head of the household?”

Wife: “Oh, we don’t use our head for that.”

She closes the door again. On our doorbell camera, we see the salesman opening and closing his mouth a few times, his hand hovering over the button. But the decides against it and walks off again.

Our counter is quite high up, and if someone stands close to it, we can’t see anything below their chest. A rather short lady comes up, already looking done with the entire world.

I’m still counting out the previous customer’s loose change when she addresses me.

Customer: “I’d like to purchase a tea, please.”

Me: “I’ll be right with you, ma’am, once I’ve straightened up my register.”

Customer: “Have you heard me? I’d like to purchase a tea.”

Me: *Done counting.* “Yes, ma’am, one tea. Will that be all for you today?”

She gives me a sarcastic look like “of course it is!”. So I decided not to press it further. I ring up her total and turn around to make her tea. Facing the coffee maker on the other end of the bar now, though, a previous customer (a regular) shows up, apologetically pointing at her tea.

Regular: “I’m so sorry, but there is a yucky-looking eyelash floating in my tea.”

Me: “Oh, no worries! I’ll replace that for you.”

Before I can remake her tea, my boss needs me for something quick. The regular notices and gestures to go to my boss first, saying she has no rush.

Coming back after less than a minute (and my quickly distracted ADHD brain frazzled), I realize I now have two tea orders open. I lost sight of the grumpy lady during all this, but she has made her way to the side of the bar where the coffee maker and the tea supplies are.

Customer: “What’s this? You’d think my tea would be here already! I deliberately went to the toilet first, so I wouldn’t have to wait. And it’s not here.”

Me: *Forcing my retail smile.* “Your tea is coming right up, ma’am. Been called away for a second, it’s busy busy!”

It takes literally seconds to make it. I put the glass on a saucer, as is custom, and serve it to her.

Customer: “Uhm, maybe leave out the saucer? I’m leaning on a crutch! How do you expect me to…? Ugh. Do you have a tray or something?”

Only now I see her mobility aid, obscured by our high counter at first. Not sure how the tray will help her, but I fetch her one.

Me: “Apologies, I can also bring it to your table if you like, if you’d show me where you’d like to be seated?”

Customer: “No. You’re soooo busy. I got it.”

She haphazardly throws a tea strainer on the tray, reaches over the bar to stick her hand in the box with the complimentary little cookies – that we normally neatly place on the saucer with the sanitary use of tongs – flings it on there as well, and huffs and puffs away.

I’m breathing in deep to regain some composure, then get reminded of the regular whose tea I’m yet to replace.

Me: “I’m so sorry. I’ll get your tea right away. It’s busy…”

Regular: “Listen. I have eyes. I can see you are busy and dealing with crap. I got time. You just chill, okay? You’re doing great.”

I thanked her, made her tea, gave her an extra cookie, and went on with my shift. On her way out, the regular waved, blew me kisses, gave a thumbs up, and said:

Regular: “Don’t let them drive you mad! Thanks again!”

Oh, the contrast.

I’m sitting on a bench near a trail I’m walking, resting my legs for a while. A van pulls up, and the driver steps out.

Driver: “Just to check, are you afraid of dogs?”

Me: “No, I love dogs.”

Driver: “Okay, good.”

He opens the side door of the van and immediately a wall of fur descends on me as no less than seven golden retrievers all storm out to say hi to a potential new friend.

Driver: “They can be a bit enthusiastic at times.”

Me: “No kidding!”

At the time of this story, we’re having an unusually heavy snowfall in the Netherlands. Other countries will probably laugh at the amount of snow, but here ‘the country is on its bum’, as we say.

Public transportation is down, trash no longer gets collected (narrow streets + big truck = disaster), people can’t go to work because the roads are white and the snow ploughs can’t keep up. The trash companies actually let their truck drivers drive snow ploughs or trucks that spread salt because they are used to heavy trucks.

My company rents out Social Housing. Because of the amount of snow, we are forced to work from home. Many can, and some technicians are on ’emergency repairs’ duty. If there’s an emergency, our technicians will brave the white outside, but it may take a bit longer than usual. And because we all care about our coworkers outside, we customer service people make sure it is indeed an emergency.

A Lot Of Callers: “I have an appointment for today; how late will the technician be here?”

Most Of Our Responses: “Unfortunately, they won’t make it. I see we tried to call you for rescheduling, but no one answered the phone.”

Insert reason why they didn’t pick up and understanding customer… great! Rescheduled!

The Occasional Client: “What?! But I waited for weeks for this appointment! This is unacceptable!”

In reality, it was days.

Me: “I understand your response, but there is a national weather alert.”

The Occasional Client: “I know, I can’t go anywhere!”

Me: “And our technicians are in the same boat.”

The Occasional Client: “Well… this is an emergency! Surely you have an emergency protocol!”

Me: “We do, but unfortunately, hanging up a shelf is not an emergency.”

The Occasional Client: “It is an emergency!”

Me: “So you say you need to leave the house and can no longer stay in your house because of this?”

The Occasional Client: “Leave the house?! Have you seen the weather?!”

Me: “So you can stay in the house?”

The Occasional Client: “I can’t go anywhere!”

Me: “So that means it’s not an emergency, right?”

This usually shuts them up. However, one call went differently:

Client: “My faucet is leaking.”

Me: “I am so sorry to hear that. I have a plumber available in two days, assuming the weather will be better.”

Client: “Yes… but my faucet is leaking.”

Older client, repeating himself… maybe hard of hearing? I repeat the offer. Same response. I repeat the offer in different words. Same response.

Me: “All right… can you put a bucket underneath it?”

Client: “Will that stop the leak?

Okay, red flags. I put the client on hold and call the planner.

Me: “Hey, I have [Address], and the man has a leaky faucet… but my belly—” *onderbuikgevoel* “—is nagging. Something is off. No matter what I try, he doesn’t answer my questions, only repeats… He is in his eighties, so…”

Planner: “You wouldn’t call if you weren’t worried. You’re in luck, I have a guy working two streets away. I’ll ask him to check it out. Might take a while, though.”

Me: “Thanks.”

I return to the client and thank him for waiting. No response. I shout (working from home all alone does have advantages), no response. I hear no movement… nothing. I return to the planner, letting him know there’s no sound whatsoever anymore.

The planner says he’ll take over from me, considering the wait line. Through chat, he lets me know that calling the client was of no use; no one picked up.

You probably all share my worry, so I won’t stall any longer: all was fine.

The technician went over, the older gentleman opened the door, and all was well. The older gentleman managed to grab a pan and put it under the leaky faucet… and promptly forgot about the phone. He was indeed hard of hearing, so when he was in another room, he did not hear the calls.

He did not seem confused or anything else worrisome, but our ‘outside housing manager’ (who walks around the area to check on houses, gardens, illegal dumping, and people we worry about) decided to visit the client when the snow was mostly gone. Again, nothing worrisome, but my coworker will check on him regularly just in case.

To the technician who braved the white world because of a leaky faucet… You are a hero!