I got pooped on. By a bird luckily, but still, I was pooped on. I heard the splat. I feared the worst. But it hit my backpack. Brown and nasty. Which was surprising, because I thought bird poop was always white. Turns out the white poop had landed on my black jacket just inches from my neck.
It rained. And rained. And rained some more. It rained so much that I bought a cartoon covered umbrella. I cursed the Swedish summers. I complained to friends and family. I was basically a bipedal Eeyore. It was bad. And then the sun came out. All was forgiven. When the winters consist of 17 hours of darkness, sunlight becomes very important.
I was completely ignored by a cashier. She looked right at me. I said hello and began putting my groceries on the conveyor belt. Then a man came out of nowhere. She had already begun helping him and he had forgotten something. So obviously, this being Sweden, she was unable to speak to anyone else. The sad thing is that being ignored by cashiers when speaking directly to them is more common than I would like to think.
That being said, I was also pleasantly surprised by the customer service of one store. The people at Galleri Elde Art Stockholm were friendly, helpful, and even managed to have what I had ordered ready and waiting for me when I came in just before closing. And the sad thing here is that, so much of this should be a normal part of good customer service, but I was damn near ready to give the old man and the girl at the cashier a hug because stuff like that seems so rare sometimes in Stockholm. But it happened. And I couldn’t have been happier.
And soon I will be heading off to get drunk and dance around a phallic green pole while singing about small frogs. Oh Swedish Midsommar, how I love you so.
Welcome to Sweden.