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Thankfully, not my boss or some of my colleagues.
I’m starting to fear Orlando must have stumbled onto it, and is now living in mortal fear of the cashier lady of doom. Haven’t seen him around since the day he wore that Slayer shirt.
The Muffin Man is addicted enough by now to leave comments pestering me to write on.
The Dutch faction…. hm, dunno, I’m not sure.
My sister is reading even my link list; and I think she might be willing to talk to me again come Christmas.
And this weird Australian dude still has not left a comment. Tch.
If he did I might link to his page, but then again, that hasn’t been updated ever since it was created I think…
I was having a hectic week, and don’t really know what to write about, but the Muffin Man’s will is my command (at least in a very few very minor matters).
Today I learned something about my colleague, Ç, which I had not known before. I did know that her eldest daughter had to be treated for cancer a few years back.
Today we somehow got into talking about that, and she told me that the girl had had a brain tumor and had needed an operation, followed by radiation and chemo therapy. A very frightening thing to go through for any parents I’d say.
The girl is normal, pretty and healthy these days, but I’ll never forget the small pale thing, bald head wrapped up in a colourful scarf, tiredly looking at people out of dark-rimmed eyes.
Every couple of months the doctor who treated her phones them up and arranges for them to talk to other families who are facing the same frightening experience. And Ç says she gladly talks to these people, giving them the hope that everything will work out for the best, as it did for them; that things are not as frightening as they appear to be.
I think that is a very nice and brave thing to do; it can’t be easy having talks like that on a regular basis.
*hands out medal to Ç*
What else is new?
Şişko (please pronounce as Shishko; thank you) is a very…. unique… person.
Almost 3 years of our new currency, and she still accepts dud coins, like 1 or 2 Pfennig pieces. The worse thing is, if she notices (with a strong emphasis on the “if”), she tries to pass ‘em on to customers.
On Monday she accepted a 25 Øre piece as a 2 cent piece. I suppose I’ll never know if she finally realized while counting the day’s earnings, or if she accidentally chose that one to go into the deposit box. Fact is, it was lying on the table, and I immediately saw that there was something very odd about those 2 cents. When I told her what it was she told me to put it into the deposit box anyway. Yes, I am sure our boss would have appreciated getting a call from the bank, telling him to drop by and bring them 2 real cents please, thank you. I almost asked her if she thought that the people at the bank were imbeciles who wouldn’t notice, but checked myself barely in time. After all that would have implied that she is one as well. I did bring the point of thorough checks across though. So she decided to put it back to the change money and hand it out to a customer.
Me: G, (I’d never dream of calling her Şişko to her face; she might ask what it means…) are you aware that the moment you realize that it’s no valid Euro currency you are committing fraud by passing it on?
Şişko (*smiling cunningly*): Yes.
No worries, faithful readers; the coin is enjoying a happy retirement on my desk now.
Talking about funny money…. Today I fingered a 1 Reichsmark note from 1904 and a 100 Reichsmark note from 1908. A colleague got them from a relative and intends to sell them at one of those antiques and second-hand fairs. *drools* She has no idea what they are worth yet, but when she finds out I suppose we’ll both know they’re worth too much for me to want to buy them.