We are interviewing people for a room in the flatshare I live in. As two rooms are available at the same time, the only people interviewing are [Flatmate] and me. We find a couple of people we like and meet with them, and after they have agreed, we have them come to sign the contracts.

The first guy comes over, and we chat amicably about nothing too serious. Suddenly, [Flatmate] starts telling us how she really wishes she could learn to appreciate boobs. I have no idea what to say to this and try laughing it off with a joke. At this, she starts ranting.

Flatmate: “I can’t wait until 2049 when the vaccine for heterosexuality will be available. All humans will have to take it and become homosexual so they never have kids, and global warming will be solved.”

I am trying to keep a straight face, as this is completely out of character for her. I am also praying to any deity right there and then that the new guy doesn’t tear up the contract and walk out of there. Luckily, he doesn’t, but I am creeped out.

I think that will be the end of odd conversations, but at the signing for the second room, we get another one. This time, [Flatmate] rants about the brilliance of communism and how Stalin was right with the purges. Yeah, she’s now advocating mass murder, but it’s okay as it was done by the left.

I find myself breaking my atheism for the second time that week praying to deities known and unknown. The second guy signs up and I breathe a sigh of relief.

[Flatmate] left a few months later, and my other flatmates and I still get a chuckle out of this at dinner occasionally. She’s the craziest flatmate I’ve had, and that was really out of character for her. I’m still surprised it wasn’t some kind of really weird test from her side.

I get into the queue for the cashier at the supermarket. As I get closer to the end of the queue, I notice that there is a woman with her trolley pointed into the line. My British instincts kick in and I say to myself:

Me: “This woman is trying to jump the queue. No way.”

The person in front of me moves to a new queue, so there is the person with their stuff on the belt and this woman. So, of course, I move to the belt while this woman moves her trolley. She gives me a look of utter astonishment as I move to put my stuff on the belt, and she starts talking at me in German. Unfortunately, my German is utter pants as my work is in English, so I try saying:

Me: “The queue starts over there.” *Indicating that she needs to walk around*

This woman isn’t having that and starts ranting in German.

Me: *Politely* “My German isn’t so good.”

I turn away and put my two items on the belt. I think this will be the end of the matter and now it’s up to the person behind me. No, the woman moves her trolley before I can get behind the person in front, so while my stuff is on the belt first, she is now in front of me. She starts loading her things.

I try to move in front of her, but she is blocking the way with her trolley on one side and herself on the other. No matter; my stuff will get scanned before hers. She is muttering under her breath, clearly about me, but I just giggle. This makes her angrier.

The cashier is slightly confused when I hand over the money, but because she isn’t talking to me, I miss the amount. It turns out I looked at the wrong label, as my note isn’t enough to cover the cost, so I need a bit more cash. The woman in front of me gives a giant tut as I get some more money and receive my change while she moves forward so I can grab my things.

As I pack them into my bag, I hear:

Woman: *Very loudly* “B****!”

I turn around and give the very British response of:

Me: “Excuse me?!”

Woman: “Shut up!”

She started ranting to the cashier. I tried to explain my side of the story quickly before deciding, “I’ve got my stuff and I am wasting my time,” and walking off.

Related:
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 24
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 23
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 22
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 21
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 20

My boyfriend and I are travelling for a holiday abroad. As we are not going for too long, we take one suitcase between us and a rucksack. We are waiting by the gate, and [Boyfriend] goes to get us some water while I look after the bags.

A few minutes later, one of the airline staff members starts moving around and talking to people. I’m not paying much attention until she grabs my bag, lifts it, and barks something in German, which I don’t understand. She has now rubbed me the wrong way, but I tell her I don’t speak German.

Airline Worker: “Your bag is too heavy; it needs to be checked in.”

Me: “Oh, okay, I’ll move some stuff into the rucksack, then.”

Obviously, I’m trying to avoid time waiting at the baggage carousel.

Airline Worker: “How many bags do you have?”

Me: “The suitcase and my boyfriend’s rucksack.”

Airline Worker: “Oh, there are two of you?”

Me: “Yes, can you give me a minute to sort this out?”

Airline Worker: “No, it has to go into the hold. There is not enough space in the plane.”

Now I am really annoyed. Which is it? Either my bag is too heavy (which I can remedy to some degree by shifting the weight between the bags) or there is no space as the flight is full (which isn’t my fault, and therefore, I’d expect some slight conciliation from the airline when this occurs). Either way, I now face the outcome of waiting at the other end for my bag rather than going straight through the airport. I grab the other rucksack and start moving things like my laptop and documents into there that cannot go into hold baggage.

[Boyfriend] then arrives and asks what is happening. Obviously, this takes a few minutes, and the woman is getting annoyed that I haven’t immediately gotten up and moved.

Airline Worker: *Exasperated* “You need to check your bag in.”

Me: “And I will do that once I’ve taken out things that can’t go in the hold.”

That makes her quiet. I join the queue standing at what I think is a reasonable distance (being British and not wanting to look like I’m trying to overhear the group in front). 

Airline Worker: “You need to step forward to join the queue.”

I didn’t see where this woman is coming from as people were now standing behind me. I just shrugged and waited. A couple of minutes later, the bag had a tag on it and the woman was still giving me the stink-eye.

I live in a flatshare with three other people. I’ve been feeling a bit down recently because I’m trying to finish my doctoral thesis and I am mostly working from home with my funding finished. It hasn’t been the easiest time for me, and I am not looking forward to my birthday as my boyfriend is currently out of the country and all my friends are pretty busy with one thing or another.

My birthday comes around, and I get a knock on my door. One of my housemates is there with a cake, singing Happy Birthday. What makes it extra sweet is that he checked the cake for the lowest amount of milk as I am lactose intolerant.

I bump into my second housemate later, and he gives me a round of Happy Birthday. He then hints that he and my other housemates are getting me a birthday present, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I thank him and tell him I will act surprised, thinking it will be something small.

After dinner the next day, I get another knock on my door while working. It’s the two housemates who are home, and they have a box for me. They heard that my mum gave me a jigsaw puzzle, and I mentioned that I am a huge puzzle fan in passing, so they give me a giant puzzle mat. Now I can do the puzzle and roll it up to store it while in process.

It might seem like such a small thing, but it really touched me after all the stress of the past few months. I am currently doing my puzzle with my housemates occasionally stopping by to do some backseat puzzling.

It is very common in blocks of flats in Zurich that the flats share laundry facilities. I am a Brit living in Switzerland, living in a flatshare that is very culturally diverse.

It is the morning after I have done the laundry and I am eating breakfast just before heading to work. It’s about eight when the doorbell rings. I think it is the postman, and I am trying to get an answer on the intercom downstairs when there is a knock on the door to the flat.

Standing outside is the crazy lady. Every block of flats will have one of these: too nosy for her own good and very controlling.

Neighbour: “Did you use the washing machine last night?”

Me: “Yes.”

Neighbour: “You left it in a mess! You need to clean up after yourself!”

She rants for a bit and I listen politely.

Me: “I will be more careful in the future.”

This is where it gets interesting.

She then starts going on about how the immigrants in the flat keep making a mess of things, including the “dirty Tamils” (by which she means the lovely Indian family on the floor below). Very uncomfortable at this stage, I try to extricate myself — I do need to leave soon for my train — but she keeps ranting on, and as she is standing in the doorway I can’t just close it. My boyfriend appears at this point wondering why I have been at the door for so long.

At some point, she notices my accent.

Neighbour: “Where are you from?”

Me: “The UK.”

She tries to backpedal.

Neighbour: “Oh, I am not talking about all immigrants, just the ones from outside Europe.”

She then notices my boyfriend.

Neighbour: “And where are you from?”

Boyfriend: “Brazil.”

She then goes on a rant about how dangerous Brazil is and how I must be glad the UK is so safe. My German flatmate pops his head round the door at this point to also ask what is going on. Suddenly, the lady realises she has insinuated that my boyfriend is one of these “bad immigrants” and backtracks further.

Neighbour: “Oh, I didn’t mean all non-European immigrants, just the ones from China.”

With perfect timing, my flatmate’s Chinese girlfriend appeared just as the lady finished her sentence. Looking at all these foreign faces, the lady realised the GIANT hole she had dug for herself. And without another word, she just turned on her heel and walked downstairs. I managed to close the door before everyone there burst out laughing at her stupidity and racism.

The punchline of the whole story? [Neighbour] isn’t even Swiss; she is a German immigrant. Sadly, she didn’t learn her lesson and later posted some quite racist remarks next to the lift. We reported her to the landlord and the police. From what I understand, she is on a warning, and if she pulls a stunt like this again, she will be chucked out for harassment with possible police involvement.