It is 2009. Germany recently introduced “low-emission zones” in several major cities. In order to drive into those areas, every vehicle, even foreign-registered ones, must show a color-coded sticker — Feinstaubplakette — issued according to the vehicle’s emission standards.

As I frequently travel to Germany, I go to a RDW office — the Dutch equivalent of the DMV.

Me: “Good morning. I need a German emission class sticker for my car. Here’s my registration.”

Employee: “But sir, you don’t need that! You need it only if you drive to Germany!”

Please note the area I’m living in is just forty minutes from the German border.

Me: “Well, I’m aware of that. I guess it’s called ‘GERMAN sticker’ for that reason, right?” *Smiles*

Employee: “Yes, that’s why you don’t need it!”

Me: “I assure you that I need it. I often travel to Germany with my car.”

The employee gives me a blank look.

Me: “Okay, let me explain. On Saturday, I’ll be in Oberhausen. Next week Wednesday, I’ll be in Düsseldorf. Those cities are in Germany, and both require an emission class sticker and I don’t want to get a ticket. May I now have my sticker, please?”

The employee finally looked at my registration papers, checked on the computer, and gave me my emission class sticker, not without mumbling a couple of times, “You don’t need it here.”

Oddly enough, as The Netherlands is quite a small country bordering with Germany, many vehicles have this emission class sticker. I hope other drivers didn’t have to cope with this employee!

I work at the campground my mother owns. Because we have a lake with a beach, we get a lot of people for swimming only. On hot summer days, there can be a few thousand people coming through in a day, so I help out at the fast food court kind of place that we have.

One summer, we try out a new brand of slushies. Basically, the slushie in the machine is flavorless and we add in pumps of flavor — one pump for a small slushie and two pumps for a large slushie. If you add any more, the slushie will get way too sweet. At any given time, we have two different flavor pumps ready.

There is a pretty long line, seeing as it’s a hot summer day.

Customer: “I’d like a small slushie with both flavors.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can only add one flavor for a small slushie.”

Customer: *Getting angry* “No, you can give me a small slushie with both flavors.”

Me: “No, I can’t, because I have to add the flavor, and I’m supposed to only add one pump of flavor to a small slushie.”

Customer: “I want my small slushie with two flavors; I’ve already gotten it multiple times.”

Me: “I don’t know which of my coworkers sold you that, but I can’t do that because it’s against the rules.”

Because the girl was starting to get really angry, I decided to give her the way-too-sweet slushie so that the other people in line could be helped, as well. I had to get one of my coworkers to take over so I could step out for a few minutes, though.

My boyfriend and I are out for a stroll at a popular walking park and have sat down at a picnic-style table along the route to catch a breather after walking for forty-five minutes.

An elderly couple approaches and the woman is huffing and puffing exaggeratedly. She slumps down on the bench beside me. I stand up to make room for her. 

Woman: “Oh, don’t get up for poor old me! It’s okay; you can sit. I just have to rest for a bit. I’m over ninety years old you know! Not unlike you healthy young lot!”

Me: “Well, we were sitting here for a while already, so we don’t mind getting going again. Have a nice day!”

Woman: “Oh, no, don’t let us shoo you away! But if you were sitting here for quite a while… ha! Isn’t that just lazy? Are you tired already from your little walk? You and your young legs!”

Her husband chimes in. 

Husband: “Yeah, we’re both over ninety and still taking long walks! Let’s see if you can still keep that up when you reach our age! You think you have it easy now? Just wait until you’re old! Same with jobs nowadays. You youngsters think you have it tough, but we had it much tougher back in the day, you know!”

Both of them go into a spiel on how young people are spoiled and lazy and their generation had it worse, etc. All the while, they keep a friendly smile going. They ask what kind of jobs we are doing and how it’s probably all a piece of cake for us.

I stand to the side a bit, biting my tongue and restraining myself from giving them a piece of my mind and telling them how I’m currently struggling to get a job with my muscle-condition, which is also causing quite some pain on my legs and feet at this very moment, even after the ”little walk” we had. 

My boyfriend is politely answering their questions but also giving signs that we want to continue our walk. The couple seems determined, however, to keep us there as long as they like so they can tell us how privileged our generation is. 

We finally shake them off and walk along.

Me: *To my boyfriend* “Jeez, with all due respect for the elderly, did they just really want us to keep them company so they could spew their opinion about lazy youth on us?”

Boyfriend: “Babe, do us both a favor and let’s never become an old, spoiled, rich couple with matching designer parkas and [Expensive Brand] walking shoes like them!”

I am studying to become a teacher and we’re learning about music class. We are supposed to learn how to teach music, but all the teacher does is sit behind the piano and let us sing children’s songs. She scolds us if we can’t reach the high notes, which causes the only man of our group to just stop coming. 

Halfway the term, the teacher once again rounds us up around the piano and asks if we have any requests. One of my classmates raises her hand.

Classmate: “Yes, I have a question. When are we going to do something useful in this class?”

The class fell silent; the teacher was silent, too, but I could read thunder from her eyes. After a moment, we were sent to our seats again and told we could go “self-study” for a group performance on musical instruments in a few weeks. She didn’t tell us how to read notes, so we helped each other and the end result was… well, frankly, absolutely terrible. We did all pass the class, including the male student who didn’t show up any more.

I’m on my way home from college. I had a pretty long day and I just want to use the fifty-minute train ride home to clear my head, stare out the window, and listen to my music. Someone happens to call me just after the train starts driving. I have my phone call, which is interrupted here and there due to bad reception, but I manage to end it after a few minutes.

A girl who I guess is about sixteen has joined my seat in the meantime. The second I hang up my phone, she opens her mouth and doesn’t close it for the rest of the ride.

Girl: “Bad reception, huh? Yeah, that happened to me, also, the other day when I was traveling through here. I was calling my friend, you see, and she kept saying, ‘Gee, I can’t hear you,’ and I was like, ‘I know! I’m on a train that’s going through the woods right now!’ It’s so annoying! Like, you know, like, how can they not just put up some more cell phone towers, right? And then my friend said…”

This goes on for quite some time. She uses a tone with me like I’m a friend she has known for ages, and she talks very loud. After her spiel about cell phones, she mentions the school she goes to. Not wanting to be rude or scare her off, I reply that I did a similar education in graphic design.

Bad move. Her face lights up like that of a kid who just got the best Christmas present and she starts rummaging in her backpack, pulling out a huge portfolio. Somehow, all her work revolves around dollhouses. She goes on and on about how she loves dollhouses.

Girl: “How can you not love them? You love dollhouses, do you? Wait, you know my friend, [Friend]? He makes the best dollhouses! You should see his Instagram!”

And yes, she pulls out her phone to show me that person’s entire profile, talking non-stop about every photo she sees. 

Finally, she gets off one stop before mine.

Girl: “It was so good to chat with a new friend! Hope I catch you again on this train; I had such a good time! Byyyeeeeee!” 

She leaves and waves happily at me from the platform. 

I give a sigh of relief and find several people giving me a look I can only describe as, “What the h*** was that?” 

Fellow Passenger: “You didn’t know that girl at all, did you? I mean, what was that about?” 

Me: “I have no idea.”

I saw her once after, weeks later. I made sure to move to another carriage before she could spot me. Thank goodness it stayed with that!