At Least It’s Easier To Clean Than A Mask

, , , , , , , | Working | August 13, 2020

After a few months of wearing masks, my workplace switched to “face shields” — plastic shields covering the face, strapped onto a band or nose clip — to reduce stress on our part while still fulfilling company (and other) rules.

Since temperatures started to rise again, a coworker of mine brought fresh ice cream on cones from a shop directly next to ours for us to enjoy. 

Remember the face shields? I surely forgot, only reminded after I licked the inside of the screen and squished the ice cream on the other side of it.

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The Luke-Warm Meal Was The Tip Of The Iceberg

, , , , , | Working | August 3, 2020

I am out eating with my boyfriend and his family to celebrate his grandmother’s birthday.

In Austria, tipping is not mandatory but commonly done if service was excellent. Our server did an okay job — nothing to complain about, but nothing special, either. The only thing we weren’t too happy about was that some of our food was only luke-warm, but since it didn’t ruin the whole taste, we decided it wasn’t worth complaining.

After we all finish eating, my father-in-law walks up to the front to pay the bill, as this is how it is done at this restaurant. None of us hear exactly what is said, but when he comes back he says that the server was kind of mad he only got one Euro as a tip. I don’t ask my father-in-law why he didn’t give more, but since the tip is only a bonus and not mandatory, I don’t blame him for anything.

Suddenly, our server walks up to our table with a very pissed-off look and puts down the printed out bill plus a one-Euro coin. “You can keep that,” he says, “as a sign of love.”

We all think this is really disrespectful, and my father-in-law gets visibly mad. The server has already walked away, so he follows him to the front, still mad, but not aggressive in any way.

While we all put on our jackets to prepare to leave, we hear my father-in-law ask, irritated but in a normal volume, what that whole scene was supposed to mean. The server gets even more pissed and says that since our bill covered almost 100 Euro, one Euro wasn’t enough of a tip.

Now my father-in-law has had enough and says, “Well, since a tip is given for excellent service, which usually includes properly heated food, I wouldn’t be so surprised.” And with that, he walks out of the restaurant, now really angry, but somehow he managed to keep his temper under control as he doesn’t like making a scene.

I get that maybe a small tip can be a bit disappointing, but being disrespectful to your customers like that isn’t gonna help you get a bigger tip in the near future.

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Shall We Dance?

, , , , | Friendly | July 29, 2020

A few years ago, when I was twenty-five, I gathered enough courage to visit a famous local late-night club. It was a “first of its kind” for me, as I’d rather meet up with people to play board games or spend time on gaming consoles.

As expected with people looking for new friends and/or hookups, I was really nervous and silently sat in my corner, sipping on my cola. Feeling another wave of courage and energy, I told myself to at least see the whole club with every room and all of its dance floors. 

I thought to myself, “Hm… That dance floor there looks full of smoke and people. Let’s be brave and walk through the crowd!”

So, with my trusted bottle of Coke, I took a deep breath and walked until… I reached a person with a drink in his hand. No matter how I stepped to the side, we still stood in each others’ way.

With all the smoke, flashing lights, and overly loud dance music, I looked into his eyes…

…only to realise that I was standing in front of a wall-sized mirror.

I was embarrassed beyond belief and left only two hours after entering the club.

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We Hope This Teacher Heard The Signals Loud And Clear

, , , , | Learning | July 7, 2020

During my time as a hearing-aid apprentice, I have to learn under a particularly disliked teacher; he makes crude jokes, has a loud voice, and doesn’t allow us to call him “Sir” in class, no “Herr [Teacher’s Last Name] ” in German — only using his first name is allowed! — or he’ll stop teaching for one minute, which is timed on the clock. 

Whenever he asks us questions, no matter how correctly answered or taught earlier by him, he has to add, “Yes, mostly correct, but…”, which can be quite frustrating.

On this instance during class, he asks:

Teacher: “So, [My Name], how do you check each person’s threshold for loud noises?” 

He’s asking how loud things are allowed to be without yet being, or close to getting painful.

I give the textbook answer.

Me: “After instructions, you rapidly increase the noise level, look into their eyes, and stop when you see a face reflex or eye twitching.”

He looks at me, walks over to my desk, sits on it, leans forward — about two handwidths away from my face — and asks:

Teacher: “And what do you do if there is a highly attractive person in front of you, longing to look deep into your eyes?”

Me: *Coldly* “I increase the noise intensity until that changes.”

Things didn’t improve much from then on, but that was the only time in two years that I saw him grinning.

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Probably Shaved Off Some Of The Cost, Anyway

, , , , , | Working | June 25, 2020

I was about to finish my course after three years of studying, and I wanted to treat myself to a posh-looking hair salon before the final oral exam. I was by no means looking dirty, but my hair and beard were getting too long for my own comfort. Trimming isn’t a problem to do myself, but having a professional doing it is always nice… or so I thought.

I was standing there in front of the store — white Marmor front and pictures of beautiful women and perfectly shaved men in the window, perfectly styled. Inside, I was greeted and offered drinks, coffee, and complimentary snacks while waiting.

Everyone was helpful and nice, and men and women inside were as styled as the pictures promised.

When it was my turn, a guy started to show me possible cuts and listened to what I expected about my hair. I was nervous, so I mostly just said, “Yeah, I have my final exam and wanted to treat myself. Short but not military is fine by me.”

Then, I had the experience of having my hair washed, massaged, oiled up (?), washed again and slowly cut to the shape I had awkwardly explained.

After about half an hour of “treatment,” he showed me what my head looked like. To be honest, I was pleasantly shocked by how well he did it, with millimeter fine lines around the ears and at the back of my head.

I was just thinking, “Nice. Next, my beard,” when he started to “unstrap” me from the chair and said, “You’re welcome. I hope to see you again!”

There was an awkward silence since I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Uhm… and where is the station for my beard?” I finally asked.

“Oh, we don’t support that profession, so we don’t cut beards here.”

So, I was sitting there. Business-styled hair with wild-looking eyebrows and a wild, unshaved — and in comparison to my hair — dirty-looking beard.

He stood there like everything was fine and ready for payment. 

I paid, silently left, and awkwardly shaved at home. I mean, my mistake; hair salon, I should have asked, but… come on!

Since then, I’ve been visiting a barber near my place who is a few times cheaper and faster, and actually cuts everything like the pictures seen at the store.

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