Sả là một gia vị được nhân ta dùng phổ biến, đồng thời cũng là một cây thuốc chữa bệnh và trừ côn trùng tốt.
Sả là loại cây thảo sống dai, cao khoảng 1m, mọc thành bụi (tên khoa học là Cymbopogon Citratus (L.) Pers.), thuộc họ lúa (Poaceae). Củ sả là một gia vị được dùng trong chế biến nhiều món ăn, chủ yếu là để kích thích tiêu hoá, khử được mùi tanh của cá, thịt, giúp thức ăn thêm thơm ngon.
Theo Đông y, sả vị the, mùi thơm, tính ấm, có tác dụng làm ra mồ hôi, thông tiểu tiện và tiêu thực. Sả được dùng chủ yếu làm thuốc chữa cảm sốt, đầy bụng, tiêu chảy...
Liều lượng mỗi ngày 8 - 12g lá và củ sả dưới dạng thuốc xông hay thuốc hăm. Phổ biến nhất là nồi nước xông lá sả phối hợp với một số lá khác như lá tre, lá cúc tần, lá bưởi, lá tía tô. cây ngăi cứu.. mỗi thứ một nắm, đem nấu nước xông cho ra mồ hôi để chữa cảm sốt, nhức đầu.
Tác dụng chính của sả là ở tinh dầu. Trong lá sả có tinh dầu, thành phần chủ yếu là geraniola và citronelola. V́ vậy, khi ta ṿ lá sả thấy có một mùi thơm đặc biệt phảng phất mùi thơm của chanh.
Tinh dầu sả bôi lên da hoặc phun trong nhà có thể xua đuổi được ruồi, muỗi và các loài côn trùng khác như dĩn, bọ chét... do đó thường được dùng làm thuốc trừ muỗi và khử mùi hôi.
Phụ nữ cũng thường nấu nước lá sả để gội đầu cho trơn tóc, sạch gầu và có thể tránh được một số bệnh về tóc.
Ngoài ra, củ sả và tinh dầu sả c̣n dùng để chữa một số bệnh thông thường như : Lấy 3 - 6 giọt tinh dầu sả pha với xi-rô và nước, cho bệnh nhân uống để chữa đau bụng, đầy bụng, chống nôn và thông trung tiện. hoặc thái cũ să đem ngâm rượu đễ dành khi đau bụng gió uống 1 li nhỏ
What The Heck Is The Hiring Process For These Cashiers?
At The Checkout, Extra Stupid, Grocery Store, Money, The Netherlands | Working | June 6, 2020
I work at a grocery store, and while most of my coworkers are good, some are less bright. After work, I go back in to pick up some food. I walk up to a cashier I know really well.
Cashier: “That’ll be €4,20.”
I hand her €5,20.
Cashier: *Confused* “What am I supposed to do with this?”
Me: “It’s easier. That way I’ll have less change in my wallet.”
Cashier: “No, this is way too difficult.”
She tries to hand me €0,20.
Me: “No, just punch it in and it’ll show you the correct change.”
Cashier: “I don’t know how!”
She’s worked here for at least a month now, and typing in change is one of the first things you’re taught.
Me: “Just type in 520 and press ‘cash.’”
Cashier: *Does so* “Okay, your change is… Wow! €1! How did you know
Bad Behavior, California, Current Events, Employees, Liars/Scammers, Online, Retail, San Francisco, USA | Working | June 5, 2020
It is during the quarantine period. I am experiencing some mild symptoms and have been advised not to leave my house at all for the full fourteen-day period. I am abiding by the rules perfectly.
Since I am stuck at home, I am watching a lot of shows and movies and my HDMI cord has broken, so I use a common delivery app to order a new cord. An HDMI cord is $5 to $15. Upon receiving the item and looking at the receipt, I realize the person had purchased a $75 HDMI cord. This is a common scam, since the commission is based on the price of the item.
Immediately, I contact the app company.
Me: “Hello. I used your service to order an HDMI cord, which is about a $10 item. The person purchased a $75 cord, though. This is ridiculous. How do we fix this?”
Company: “Oh, we’re so sorry to hear that! All you have to do is go return the item to the store and send us a picture of the return receipt and we’ll refund it.”
Me: *Pause* “I can’t leave the house; I’m quarantined. I cannot be in public right now. Is there any other way to fix this?”
Company: “Oh, we’re sorry about that! Unfortunately, we cannot control what price a merchant charges for an item.”
Me: “I understand that you cannot control what a company charges for an item, but that is not the issue. The issue is that I requested a $10 item and your delivery person bought the most high-end version of HDMI cords for $75 when I requested a $10 cord.”
This was the last correspondence I heard back from the company. I continued calling and emailing them with no response for the next two weeks. I finally reached out to my bank to file a claim. A few days later, the delivery company issued a partial refund for the price difference between the expensive cord and the normal cord. They sent $65; I was still responsible for the delivery fee, of course
Employees, Gym, Lazy/Unhelpful, Pennsylvania, USA | Working | June 5, 2020
I leave a brand-new sweatshirt at the gym on a Tuesday. I ask about it each time I go in for the next two days. Both times — without anyone checking — I’m told nothing was turned in this week.
This conversation happens on Saturday.
Me: “Did anyone turn in a gray sweatshirt?”
Attendant: *Barely looking up* “Nope. Nothing turned in this week.”
Me: “Can you check? I think I see the sleeve of a gray shirt in the box back there.”
Attendant: “Nope. Nothing this week.”
Me: “Please check. I think that’s my sweatshirt.”
The attendant sighs audibly, looks, and hands me my sweatshirt.
Attendant: “It’s been in there a while. I’d wash it before wearing it.”
Babysitting, Children, home, Movies & TV, USA | Working | June 5, 2020
I am a babysitter to a four-year-old girl. She, like many small children, is obsessed with Disney movies, particularly one about an ice queen. She enjoys talking about the intricacies of the plot and scenes she likes, but her memory isn’t that great, so she will often ask for assistance to remember the details. However, her understanding of how memory works is… flawed.
Child: “Hey, [My Name], do you remember [very small portion of a non-important scene]?”
Me: “I don’t remember that one specifically, no.”
Child: “But you said you’ve seen this movie!”
Me: “I have, but not for a while.”
Child: *After a pause* “There.”
Me: “What, ‘there’?”
Child: “I’ve stopped thinking about it. Now you can have it.”
Me: “Wait, what?”
Child: “I’m not seeing the movie in my head anymore. That way you can see it.”
Auckland, Bizarre, Court, Judges, Neighbors, New Zealand, Non-Dialogue, Rude & Risque | Working | June 5, 2020
I am working as a court clerk in civil cases. Our courthouse is in the middle of the city and is several storeys high. Modern development has built up around the court, so that from levels four up, the back of the court overlooks and looks into a flashy five-star hotel.
One day, I am assisting in a settlement conference, and the judge and I are sitting at opposite ends of a long table, with the parties down either side. The judge is sitting in front of the window with his back to it, and I can see clearly everything going on behind him.
The judge recalls to me later that suddenly my face changes and contorts, and I busy myself in a piece of paper, looking horrified.
He decides we should have a break and when the lawyers have cleared, he asks what happened. I raise a shaky hand to the hotel across the way, which does not have frosted or tinted windows, and the very large, naked man doing Zumba. In front of the windows.
The judge laughs so hard he extends the break for an extra fifteen minutes so he can calm down, and he teases me about it for the rest of the week.
Assisted Living, Coworkers, Extra Stupid, Michigan, USA |
Working | June 5, 2020
I work at the front desk of an assisted living facility. Among my equipment is a printer. It’s not a fancy three-in-one. It does not do copies or faxes, just printing. A printer is not a copier. I’m sure 99% of you understand that, but not my coworker here.
Coworker: “[Other Coworker] said to come up here and get a copy. Can I get a copy of this?”
The coworker holds up paper.
Me: “I don’t have a copy machine, just a printer.”
Coworker: *Looks at my printer* “What’s that, then?”
Me: “It’s a printer. It just does printing.”
Coworker: “Well, that’s what I need — a printout.”
Me: “But… it’s just a printer. It literally can’t see anything to copy it.”
Coworker: *Blank look* “What?”
Me: “It doesn’t make copies. It… prints from this computer only.”
Coworker: “Ugh, I just need a copy of it. Can’t you do that?”
Me: “I’m not allowed to leave the desk right now. The copy machine is all the way in the back of the building.”
Coworker: “Are you sure you can’t just print it out from there?”
She points to my printer.
Me: “It doesn’t have any way to see the paper and I don’t have that document on my computer. It’s… a printer, not a copier.”
Coworker: “Ugh, fine, I’ll find someone else.”
She honestly didn’t understand the difference between a printer and a copier. It’s not like she’s way older or way younger, either. She’s in her thirties, same as me. Oh, and she couldn’t have done it herself, because only those in supervisory roles have the code to get into the copy room. I think she wanted me to pull a copier out of my a** or something.
Employees, Language & Words, Office, Pennsylvania, USA | Working | June 4, 2020
Me: “[Company], this is [My Name].”
Employee: “Hi, this is [Employee] at [Other Company Branch]. I have four programs that are on placeholder that don’t have homes?”
This is not any kind of internal lingo we use at our company, so this means absolutely nothing to me. I try to ask him to clarify, but I’m not even sure where to start.
Me: “I’m sorry…”
There’s a pause as I try to figure out what to ask.
Employee: “We have four programs that don’t have homes.”
Me: *Pause* “Let me put you on with my supervisor.”
Turns out he didn’t have any information on where to connect to perform his next remote job. Why couldn’t he just say that?
At The Checkout, California, Employees, Fresno, Non-Dialogue, Retail, Silly, USA | Working | June 4, 2020
I’ve just completed a shopping trip at a local chain store. I picked a bunch of items, including some new bras. I head to the cashier, as self-checkout does not exist yet. He is a young man and obviously new, but I’m not in any rush.
He starts scanning the items and bagging them. There’s no problem until the bras arrive. They are on a little hanger. He plucks the hanger up by the size tab at the top of the hanger with his two fingers. He’s holding it delicately as if touching it was hazardous. He tries to scan it by waving it but the tag won’t scan.
A look caught between panic and horror crosses his face as he realizes he will have to touch the bra. Now, I know I should bail him out, but it’s a bra, not a bomb. He’s a cashier; someday, panties, too, may be purchased. So I let the torture continue.
He looks at me and then at the bra he’s trying desperately to ring up when he realizes the hand scanner might work. It does scan the tag hanging innocently from the bra cup. He repeats this process for the next two bras. He even bags the bras in their own bag!
Arizona, Bad Behavior, Employees, Phoenix, Restaurant, USA | Working | June 4, 2020
I am forty-two weeks pregnant with my second child, and my family decides to go out for dinner. As I am going in for a C-section tomorrow morning, a few members of our extended family decided to come out for a nice vacation and to meet the new baby.
Our dinner party consists of nine people — seven adults over 21 and two children: an eight-year-old and a four-year-old. The table we’re sitting at is near the back of the restaurant, with the drink stand behind me along the wall and the kitchen doors along the same wall, across from our table, a couple of yards away at the most.
Our dinner party is fairly quiet. The children have a lot of papers to color, and when asked, they each indicate what they want for dinner. They are incredibly polite and are far more interested in what they are drawing than they are in making any noise.
The waiter, on the other hand, treats us as if we’re the biggest inconvenience in his entire evening. We made sure to come in early, at a time when the restaurant shouldn’t have been very busy, but I attempt to order my beverage twice, and when I am given a caffeinated beverage instead, I try changing it, to no avail.
The waiter treats my husband, parents, and uncle quite a bit better than he treats my cousin and sister. He is dismissive toward the children, and he is angry toward me. He doesn’t even indicate that he’s listened to our orders until my husband asks him to read the orders back to him, as he did with the three eldest adults at the table. He huffs and puffs and does so with attitude.
A few minutes before the entrees are served, the children are politely coloring, and the manager comes by to see how everyone’s doing. I tell him I’d like my drink order changed but the waiter couldn’t hear me over his walking away, and that I had noticed his deference to the three eldest people at the table.
A few minutes later, at the drink station in the path of the kitchen but behind me, the waiter is being asked about his serving style while the manager gets my new drink, and I overhear this gem.
Waiter: *To the manager* “Well, obviously, I serve who is paying the best, as I’ve been taught at my bartending job! The fat cow won’t pay; she’s more likely to walk out on it! The f*****’ brats are too busy running all over the place, and the cow’s too busy finding another entree to order to give a d*** about what they’re doing.”
My husband asked for a menu a little bit before he was done with his dinner because he wanted to order dessert. The kids had finished their food entirely — a first! — and they had earned desserts. As the waiter is wrapping up his remarks to the manager:
Me: *To my husband* “So, how much do cows tip?”
Husband: “Um… no, you tip the cow. But definitely not 30% like we’ve done here in the past.”
Me: *Quietly, but laughing* “Honey, he’s not… Oh, my goodness.”
My mom interjects quietly, leaning toward me, behind the youngest kiddo.
Mom: “Psst! Hey, I’m paying for this!”
Me: *Quietly, too* “Wow! Really? That’s very generous, but I’m still employed!”
Mom: “Yeah, but you’re on leave! I’ve got it.”
I tell my husband about the blueberry muffin on the menu and mention that I am so glad that my craving for those is over, as I am sick of blueberries at that point. We discuss dessert options, make sure the kids know what they want, and we both agree that we should order brownies.
The waiter finally meanders back to our table from the drink station to take our dessert orders. He immediately makes it clear that he had heard my tipping comment and knows that he’d been heard as well, but… still. Hmm…
Waiter: *Looks at me* “And ma’am? What will you have?”
Me: “Hmm.” *Closes menu* “I’ll have the chocolate—”
Waiter: “Good!” *Turns to my husband* “And for you, sir?”
Husband: *Sternly* “Wait until she’s finished.”
I look the waiter in the eye.
Me: “I will have a chocolate brownie.”
Husband: “And I will have the same.”
Yes, that is an exact quote.
The waiter takes the entire table’s orders, including the children’s sundaes, and scurries off to the kitchen. He comes out less than five minutes later with six of the nine desserts. I notice that my brownie, as well as the children’s sundaes, are missing. I try to get his attention to ask about the three remaining desserts, but he ignores me and doesn’t say a single word to any of us while serving the desserts. No “the rest will be out in a minute” or “I don’t have room on my tray and I’ll be right back.” Nada.
After the waiter sets my husband’s brownie in front of him, he ends up loitering near the kitchen door, a couple yards away from the table, watching us, but apparently blind to my husband’s and my attempts to get his attention.
The manager comes out of the kitchen, as the rest of the table is finishing with their desserts, with two sundaes and a mountain-shaped blob with a pad of butter melting all over the top that has an X cut into it. It could have been a blueberry muffin last year.
Manager: *To me* “Sorry for the wait, ma’am.”
The manager attempts to set the suspected “blueberry muffin” down.
Me: “No! No. Really. I did not order this. There is no way. I did, however, order the chocolate brownie, but your waiter once again tried to ignore my request. Maybe he thinks I was speaking cow? But, my husband literally said, ‘I’ll have the same thing,’ so how did he end up with a brownie if y’all think I ordered this monstrosity?”
Manager: *Immediately embarrassed* “Uh, um… Er, oh, yeah. I’m so sorry about everything. I’ll have that brownie right out to you.”
The manager hands the kids their sundaes.
Manager: “I must say, you guys are so well-behaved, thank you! My kids would be running amok by now, but you’ve been very courteous all evening! The table next to you guys has had nothing but great things to say about you, too.”
Eldest Kid: “Thank you!”
Youngest Kid: “I have a coloring book! See? I’m painting a Spongebob!”
They hold up the crayon-covered pages.
Manager: “Wonderful! That’s just… great. Great, yeah.” *To me* “I’ll be right out with your dessert.”
Five minutes later, the waiter flounced over and dropped the check in front of my uncle, narrowly missing his dessert plate. My mom took the check from him after a brief argument, and my husband distracted me with a cute magic trick he was showing the kids as the check was paid.
The brownie never showed up. And I still have no idea how much my mom tipped on the order. I hope it was still over ten percent. No waiter, no matter how awful their day is going, deserves to be stiffed — and by that, I mean given less than a ten-percent tip. Even if the waiter ignores one person at the table like what happened in my situation, the other eight people there were given adequate service. We all compared our experiences that evening after the fact, but my mom would only confirm that she was charged correctly.
Instant Karma, Minnesota, Phone Scam, Rest In Peace, Saint Paul, USA | Working | June 4, 2020
My grandmother recently passed away after a long hospice stay. Her loss has been extremely hard on our family, especially for my mother. My grandmother worked as my mom’s secretary at my mom’s office and used to receive a bunch of scam phone calls.
After my grandmother passed, I took up as my mother’s secretary and scam phone calls kept coming in for my grandmother. One day, after four of the same scam phone calls keep coming in for my deceased grandmother, I have this exchange.
Scammer: “Hello! Is Ms. [Grandmother] there? We have an exciting offer for her for a free vacation!”
Me: “This is the fourth time you’ve called. You know she won’t be answering the phone, because she’s passed away.”
Scammer: “Oh, but can we get her phone number? This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer!”
Me: “Well, here is what you’re going to need to do. First, go to the store.”
The scammer hmms and uh-huhs agreeably.
Me: “Then you’re going to buy a ouija board, gather your summoning circle, and contact her yourself because she’s dead!“
Scammer: “Oh.”
I heard a click as the scammer hung up the phone, and I haven’t heard back from them since. I know it wasn’t the most polite way to handle it, but each call was causing fresh grief for my mother and me. The scammers were not getting the clue. And to be honest? I got a dark sense of satisfaction out of the exchange
Bank, Jerk, New Hires, Non-Dialogue, Oregon, USA | Working | June 4, 2020
I’ve recently changed my name, but I opened my bank account with my original name and went through the whole process with my local bank when I got it legally changed, so most of the tellers are aware of me having two names. I just put both names when signing and it’s all good.
My payments from work have always been direct deposits up until this summer where I received a check after attending a training.
I go to my bank with this check and there is a teller I have never seen before. It’s already taken about fifteen minutes to even get through the line. When I finally get to the counter, I kindly explain that the check has my old name and I’ve signed both names on the back of it.
First, she claims I can’t get cash back on the check unless I deposit and then withdraw in two different transactions. Okay, cool.
Second, she claims I can’t withdraw at all from my check and then goes to speak with a supervisor. Dumb, but I can just use the ATM after.
Returning, she then tells me I can’t deposit the check at all and tells me to call the number on my check and tell them to send me one with my name on it. That’s something I can’t do until I make the four-hour trip out of town to change my social security card, and I need the money now.
When I tell her I’ve never had an issue since the change with anyone else, she tells me there’s nothing she can do. When I tell her I’ll just go over to the other branch, she just gives me a short “Okay!” and throws my slips into the shredder without so much of a second glance. This whole thing has already taken another twenty minutes.
I then have to go downtown where — Surprise! — they deposit and let me withdraw without batting a lash, and then I come back into town. With an hour wasted now, I call the bank back and the senior teller there is pissed.
Apparently, it shows both my names on my account. Why the teller couldn’t just look at the screen and see that… we both aren’t sure.
Cafe, Employees, Lazy/Unhelpful, The Netherlands | Working | June 3, 2020
My mom, my brother, his girlfriend, and I are attending a free live music evening at our town square. Unfortunately, rain starts pouring down once the band we came to see starts playing. We hang on for a while, but then my mom and I decide to seek shelter; my brother and his girlfriend stay behind.
We head to one of the surrounding cafés where I used to be a regular. Once we head in, drenched from the rain, I see that the café is quite full. I happen to stand next to a waitress.
Me: “Any seats for two left?”
Waitress #1: *Shrugs* “Dunno. You’ll have to look.”
She sounds rather snappy, and she immediately disappears. I look around and find a seat. Normally, the service here is pretty quick, even when the place is packed. But twenty minutes go by and still we don’t get served.
We do see two waitresses, including the one I spoke to earlier, serving the tables next to us, asking if they need refills, and even hanging around a while to chat with those patrons — who all happen to be attractive guys.
One of the waitresses seems bored and seemingly looks for stuff to do, and she starts cleaning a table near us, all the while ignoring our attempts to flag her down. After the fourth time they go past our table, my mom finally stands up and goes to one of them, who is again chatting to the guy at the table next to us. Once she sees my mom approaching, she scurries away.
I see another patron stopping her and pointing out that my mom was trying to talk to her. She turns around to face my mom.
Waitress #2: *Sighs* “May I help you?”
Mom: “Well, it’s about time! We have been trying to flag you down for a while. We’d like to order, please.”
Waitress #2: “What do you want?”
Mom: “A water, please, and a cup of tea for my daughter.”
Waitress #2: *Rolls eyes* “What flavor does she want?”
They are standing about two tables over, but I can still hear what they are saying. Eventually, the waitress stomps over to our table, where she stands with her arms dangling in front of her.
Waitress #2: *Snarky* “What flavor tea do you want?”
I tell her, just hoping to get my tea. She stomps off, and within a minute we get our drinks. Mom’s water is in a plastic cup. Once I go to take my first sip, I look outside and see that the rain has stopped, and in the distance, I hear the band playing my favourite song.
Me: “Well, f****** great! Now it stops raining! Just when we finally get served.”
I’m super pissed at this point. I drink half my tea as quickly as I can without burning my throat and go to the bar to pay. Another waiter comes to give me the bill.
Me: “Excuse me. Do you happen to be the manager over here?”
Waiter: “I am.”
The waitresses are both standing behind him, leaning on the bar, doing virtually nothing. I explain the situation to the manager, pointing at the girls and explaining how rude they were and how they were ignoring us. His eyebrows raise in astonishment.
Manager: “I’m glad you told me this. I’ll make sure these girls are talked to. What drinks did you have?”
Me: “A tea and a water.”
He voids the transaction on the register.
Manager: “It’s on the house. You ladies have a nice evening.”
We managed to get back to the front row again, where my brother and his girlfriend were saving our spot. The band was awesome for the rest of the gig, but those waitresses really ruined a big part of our evening.
Coworkers, Jerk, Non-Dialogue, Office, Ohio, USA | Working | June 3, 2020
I’m working in an office with quad cubicles. My teammate is on the other side of a full wall next to me, so I can’t see her. She’s very good friends with our other teammate, who shares an open desk with her. On the other side of them are two other employees I enjoy chit-chatting with through the wall. My teammates usually whisper to themselves or listen to their music with headphones.
A few months into the job, my teammate asks me to join her, our other teammate, and some ex-coworkers they remain friends with out to eat after work. They go once a month and I feel excited to be included. I mark on my calendar when we’ll go out together the next month as soon as we plan it and start looking forward to it again.
One day, the other employee across the cubicle from me starts talking to me, and the conversation goes towards my age. I’m probably the second youngest worker but I’m always top-performing; nobody has ever had a problem. She goes on to say that all “kids” my age — I’m 22 and she’s 34 — think they know everything and that I’m going to be an entirely different person in ten years time. Getting frustrated, I shortly tell her she’s wrong, not everyone is like her, and I am trying to work.
Her teammate cracks a joke and we all laugh. I guess my teammate had been listening and was sick of hearing the conversation and laughter because I hear her exclaim, “I’m done!”, get up, and leave for a smoke break.
I don’t think anything of it until she stops having conversations with me unless it is in regards to work. It’s the same with our other teammate, but their whispering continues, especially any time I attempt to start a conversation with them or speak with anyone else in my area.
When the time comes to go out with them again, I get an email from her saying they canceled and will reschedule later. A month goes by, and I hear them whispering to each other about what day is good for them to go out and if the other ex-coworkers can make it.
I shoot her an email and ask when we are going to go out again. About ten seconds after I send it, she snaps out of whispering and answers me with a loud, “I have no idea!”
I don’t mind that they don’t want me included anymore, I guess. It just bothers me that she lied to me and somehow thought I couldn’t hear their whispering conversations through the cubicle wall. Though I have long since quit that job, this sticks in my mind and I’ve pretty much avoided any friendship possibilities in the workplace.
DMV, Employees, Ignoring & Inattentive, The Netherlands |
Working | June 3, 2020
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!
Employees, Fast Food, Food & Drink, Oklahoma, Tulsa, USA | Working | June 3, 2020
I’m ordering at a fast food restaurant.
Me: “…and a lemon-lime soda, no ice.”
It is a habit for me to order sodas without ice; I hate the way the carbonation is ruined. I know my wishes are often ignored, so I always check the drink. But this particular day, I’m lost in thought and when I get to the window to get my order, I simply can’t remember what I said.
Clerk: “Here’s your drink.”
Me: “Oh, nuts. Did I say, ‘no ice’?”
Clerk: “Yes, sir, you did.”
He handed me the drink and it was done right for a change. Thanks, dude, for getting it right even when I wasn’t sure myself.
Employees, Germany, Liars/Scammers, Phone Scam | Working | June 3, 2020
Thanks to Not Always Working and the Internet, I’ve read about the “Your Windows Computer has a virus” scam, but I’ve never heard of it done in Germany.
One day, I’m home during the day when the phone rings. The caller immediately talks to me in English, which is very unusual here; while many people know some English, you don’t just assume they do.
Caller: “Hello, is this [bad pronunciation of My Husband’s Name]?”
Me: “Who’s asking?”
Caller: “Is this [bad pronunciation of My Husband’s Name, this time going so far as to spell out the ‘difficult’ German sounds]?”
I realize this could be good.
Me: *Pauses* “Okay, fine, yeah, that’s me.”
Caller: “I’m calling from Windows customer support—”
I start giggling because I can’t believe they’re actually trying this.
Me: “Really? Oh, dear.”
Caller: “Ma’am, why are you laughing?”
Me: “Sorry, sorry. I’m nervous; I’ve never talked to Windows support before. Please, do go on. I’m dying to hear this.”
Caller: “Well, we have noticed your computer has a virus and it’s important that you—”
Unfortunately, I burst out laughing at this point and decide that’s enough.
Me: “Thank you. So much. That made my day! I can’t believe you’re trying that scam in foreign countries now!”
I hang up. Later, I recount the scene to my husband. His first reaction:
Husband: “Oh… Um, but did they say which virus?”
Maybe it’s a good thing I answered the phone that day, or they might’ve just succeeded.
Bosses & Owners, Grocery Store, Ignoring & Inattentive, USA, Virginia | Working | June 2, 2020
I go in and out of the department manager’s office all day every day. However, because I’m part-time, I have not been issued a key, despite working there for over a year.
Today, someone from corporate is visiting the store. I knock on the door and she lets me in.
Corporate Worker: “Welcome to the department manager’s office, serving you since 2007. How can I help you?”
Bosses & Owners, Grocery Store, Ignoring & Inattentive, USA, Virginia | Working | June 2, 2020
I go in and out of the department manager’s office all day every day. However, because I’m part-time, I have not been issued a key, despite working there for over a year.
Today, someone from corporate is visiting the store. I knock on the door and she lets me in.
Corporate Worker: “Welcome to the department manager’s office, serving you since 2007. How can I help you?”
You Might Have To Use More Than Ten Percent Of Your Brain Cells
Employees, Extra Stupid, Math & Science, Refund, Shoe Store, UK, Wales | Working | June 2, 2020
My partner bought a pair of new walking boots but they’re a bit on the small size so I take them — with the receipt — back to the shop to get them swapped for the next size up.
Clerk: “Yes, that’s no problem but there might be some extra to pay.”
I try to remember if they were on sale.
Clerk: “Because you used an armed forces discount on these and the trainers you bought, there’ll be a lower amount of discount on just these.”
I must look blank because she continues to try and explain.
Clerk: “See here, you bought these at £42 and a pair of trainers at £35, so you got a £7.70 armed forces discount. Because you’re only returning the boots, it’ll be less discount so you might have to pay more than £42.”
I realise that trying to explain that 10% is always going to be 10% is probably a waste of my time, oxygen, and patience.
Me: “That’s fine. Just ring it up and see how it comes out.”
The clerk rings up the exchange.
Clerk: “Oh… it came out the same.”
I smiled, took the receipt, and left before my remaining brain cells could commit suicide. The kicker is that I actually have mild dyscalculia and struggle with basic maths, but even I know that 10% is, in fact, always 10%.
Bizarre, Bosses & Owners, Florida, Pest control, USA | Working | June 2, 2020
I’m an admin for a pest control company and am manning the office alone as my manager has stepped out for a morning meeting with some of the other local businesses to network. An older — bordering on elderly — man comes in and immediately starts speaking while still walking up to my desk. Bear in mind, I have shortened the conversation considerably.
Man: “So, why are you called [Pest Control Company]?”
Me: *Cheerily* “We’re named after our founder!”
The man starts fiddling with the various business cards and adverts on the counter in front of my desk, which I don’t pay too much mind to as they’re there to be looked at or touched, but he does continue doing so for the entire exchange. The man picks up the business card for our inspector with a distinctly male name; I am visibly female.
Man: “Is this your card?”
He continues speaking without letting me answer.
Man: “I’m starting a new business. It’s [Business Name containing “tech” which he says, then spells, and then gives the justification for] and I’m looking for some contacts that I can rely on when I need them. I know my name says, ‘tech,’ but I do more than that.”
He never elaborates on this.
Me: “That’s our inspector’s card. Here is the manager’s card.”
The man immediately speaks over me before I can ask any questions about his business.
Man: “And your name?”
I give it and he writes it down on the card.
Man: “I’m very allergic and sensitive to a lot of things. Do you have any products that are less harsh and won’t cause a reaction? What do you do for people like me?”
Me: “Have you added your name to the Chemical Sensitivity Registry? We are required by law to inform—”
Man: “I wasn’t done talking. People can buy all sorts of things from the store, but I’m sure you have stronger stuff for things like bedbugs and less harsh stuff for other bugs. Do you have anything that won’t cause a reaction?”
Me: “I wouldn’t trust—”
Man: “You wouldn’t trust [Pest Control Company]?”
Me: “No, sir, if you would let me finish, I wouldn’t trust any company that tells you they can do what you’re asking. There is no way to guarantee that no one will have a reaction to something. We can only take precautions, such as the Registry.”
Man: “Hold on, hold on. Do you have a Kleenex or something?”
I give him one.
Man: “I’m just nervous and my blood pressure got too high. I lived in [City a few cities north of here] in a gated community that was mostly Canadians, and you know, they can only be here 182 days of the year, so they would put down chemicals that are way too harsh for the environment to keep the bugs and weeds away while they’re gone. What would you, as an environmentalist, do to stop them?”
I am now thoroughly done.
Me: “Are you asking me as a person or me speaking on behalf of [Pest Control Company]?”
Man: “You, as the environmentally conscious person you are.”
Me: “You said it was a gated community, so there is likely an HOA; I would go through—”
Man: “But what would you do personally to make them stop?”
I refuse to rise to whatever bait he’s trying to get me with.
Me: “As I was saying, before you interrupted me, I would contact the HOA and, barring that, I would go through the appropriate legal channels or local environmental agency to address the issue.”
He’s now messing with the Kleenex.
Man: “One second, you’re making me so nervous. So, what do you think is the best way to address the drug problem in America? How would you go about stopping it?”
The look on my face must be answer enough, since I stopped smiling and dropped all cheer from my voice some time ago.
Man: “Right, right, I can tell you want me to leave, so I’ll go. You didn’t say it, but I can tell.”
He continued rambling all the way out the door. The man never left his name or his own card, just his convoluted business name. My manager returned not a minute later and I informed him of the crazy-person bullet he had just dodged and gave him the business name to avoid, should it ever happen to pop up.
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