One of Those Incredibly Odd yet Awesome Vienna Afternoons
This past week I have been starting work at 7:30. I be exhausted. Even though I am an early riser, starting work at 7:30 is a little rough. The plus side is that I have been able to clock out earlier and do things like shopping, go to a doctor appointment and glue shit to other shit. So yesterday I had some time to kill before having to be home so I decided to use a gift certificate I got from a friend at the Krazy Komolka Fabric Store. It's actually just called Komolka. And yes, I am not the only one who thinks of Karla Homolka every.single.time.
I have kind of stopped going to Krazy Komolka. They were great years ago in that sad sick way that they were the only fabric store in Vienna (You need me Tova! You're nothing without me and my jacquard!). Their prices are always high but they were convenient when you just had to have hot pink jersey! However, in the past couple of years, I have been buying my fabric from my hole-in-the-wall, cheapy shop close to our current place, and I have been happy. Yet yesterday I headed back to Komolka to use my gift certificate and get some fabric for the Kid's hut that I am making. I walked in and immediately felt the urge to kill rise. They have this system that even if you buy end pieces that are already folded and marked with a price, you still have to stand there until an assistant comes up and says (or barks, depends on the assistant) "ARE YOU BUYING THOSE?" to which I always want to reply "No, just holding them because the fabric is so soft. Please hold my purse while I get on the ground and roll around on this cheaply priced (not really), might have a defect fleece." They then take my stuff and then take out a little carbon copy book and write a description and price of each article. After a few minutes and a calculator calculation, the piece of paper is shoved into my hand and I have to go to the cash (where a barky man who I think might be one of the owners) sits in a glass booth and rings up your purchase... while you still don't have your purchase. Yesterday when I went up to the cash, I took out my gift certificate and the barky man behind the glass barked at me "YOU SHOULD HAVE SHOWN THE SALES ASSISTANT THESE BEFORE COMING HERE TO PAY!" to which I responded "I hope you die." I mean, "Oh, sorry. I did not know that" and he grunted and took the certificate and the extra money I had to pay and threw my receipt back at me. I was twitchy. Then I had to hunt down the woman who was holding my purchase hostage and show her my receipt and then I was free to go... with my overpriced animal print fleece. Argh! The anger. Usually this wouldn't bother me so much but earlier that day, a customer service rep from the company that was delivering my chandelier yelled at me for not answering my phone the day before.
So it was with a little bit of anger in my heart that I made my way to my local cafe for a glass of wine. I sat down, ordered a zweigelt and popped open my Kindle. After a little while, the daughter of the cafe owner asked me when I was moving to our new apartment. I had told her we were moving a couple of weeks ago when I was paying my bill. I said "in about 3 weeks" and then her mother, a bit of a barker as well, came over and sat at the table next to me. She asked me about the place we are moving to and she was impressed. And then, for no other reason other than drinking wine on an empty stomach, I told her all about the craziness of the past year regarding the Kid and the daycare and the possibility of autism and so on and so forth. She was outraged on my behalf. Then her daughter sat down and listened. Then the waitress, who was off duty, came by and also heard the story. I was on a roll, in German. I felt like I was gathering the troops and it was kind of awesome. But part of me is kind of sad that after 10 years of going to this cafe (with the Husband or with my friend who lives around the corner) only now am I building a rapport. Maybe late is better than never. What was heart-warming was to be able to be so open with these women and to see their support deep deep down - past their gruff demeanor. I guess, it was just one of those magical Vienna moments that make me grateful to live in this city and I hope to have some more soon because I really don't want to have to cut a bitch next time I need chiffon.
I have kind of stopped going to Krazy Komolka. They were great years ago in that sad sick way that they were the only fabric store in Vienna (You need me Tova! You're nothing without me and my jacquard!). Their prices are always high but they were convenient when you just had to have hot pink jersey! However, in the past couple of years, I have been buying my fabric from my hole-in-the-wall, cheapy shop close to our current place, and I have been happy. Yet yesterday I headed back to Komolka to use my gift certificate and get some fabric for the Kid's hut that I am making. I walked in and immediately felt the urge to kill rise. They have this system that even if you buy end pieces that are already folded and marked with a price, you still have to stand there until an assistant comes up and says (or barks, depends on the assistant) "ARE YOU BUYING THOSE?" to which I always want to reply "No, just holding them because the fabric is so soft. Please hold my purse while I get on the ground and roll around on this cheaply priced (not really), might have a defect fleece." They then take my stuff and then take out a little carbon copy book and write a description and price of each article. After a few minutes and a calculator calculation, the piece of paper is shoved into my hand and I have to go to the cash (where a barky man who I think might be one of the owners) sits in a glass booth and rings up your purchase... while you still don't have your purchase. Yesterday when I went up to the cash, I took out my gift certificate and the barky man behind the glass barked at me "YOU SHOULD HAVE SHOWN THE SALES ASSISTANT THESE BEFORE COMING HERE TO PAY!" to which I responded "I hope you die." I mean, "Oh, sorry. I did not know that" and he grunted and took the certificate and the extra money I had to pay and threw my receipt back at me. I was twitchy. Then I had to hunt down the woman who was holding my purchase hostage and show her my receipt and then I was free to go... with my overpriced animal print fleece. Argh! The anger. Usually this wouldn't bother me so much but earlier that day, a customer service rep from the company that was delivering my chandelier yelled at me for not answering my phone the day before.
So it was with a little bit of anger in my heart that I made my way to my local cafe for a glass of wine. I sat down, ordered a zweigelt and popped open my Kindle. After a little while, the daughter of the cafe owner asked me when I was moving to our new apartment. I had told her we were moving a couple of weeks ago when I was paying my bill. I said "in about 3 weeks" and then her mother, a bit of a barker as well, came over and sat at the table next to me. She asked me about the place we are moving to and she was impressed. And then, for no other reason other than drinking wine on an empty stomach, I told her all about the craziness of the past year regarding the Kid and the daycare and the possibility of autism and so on and so forth. She was outraged on my behalf. Then her daughter sat down and listened. Then the waitress, who was off duty, came by and also heard the story. I was on a roll, in German. I felt like I was gathering the troops and it was kind of awesome. But part of me is kind of sad that after 10 years of going to this cafe (with the Husband or with my friend who lives around the corner) only now am I building a rapport. Maybe late is better than never. What was heart-warming was to be able to be so open with these women and to see their support deep deep down - past their gruff demeanor. I guess, it was just one of those magical Vienna moments that make me grateful to live in this city and I hope to have some more soon because I really don't want to have to cut a bitch next time I need chiffon.
Many moons ago I was in a similar boat as your son. I was born in the U.S. to an American father and an Austrian mother. When I was about 3 years old, we moved to Vienna so we could be closer to my mom’s parents. Originally the plan was to stay for only a couple years, or until I started school. Those couple years turned into a couple decades for circumstances beyond my control. I spent my entire childhood and youth (and beyond) in Vienna and it wasn’t until I was 26 that I moved back to the States. I did terrible in Kindergarten, the Volksschule and the Gymnasium. To the extent that I was held back twice. Today they would probably label it ADHD (or Asperger’s or who knows what) but I think it is at least in part due to having been raised bilingual (a blessing and a curse as they say). My dad spoke English with me (I replied in German … sound familiar?). My mom and dad also spoke English with one another. My mom spoke German with me and so did everyone else. Not being able to identify with one language as “your own” is tough on a kid. On top of that, living in a country where kids are treated as second class citizens doesn’t help either. Oh, and I so don’t miss the non-existing customer service. I don’t do Facebook and can’t find an email address for you on your blog. If you leave a way to contact you, I can share some more American-kid-in-Vienna experiences.
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