People in drawers

I decided my blog lacks in human touch, so I will fill you in some typologies I ran into lately:
the silent woman with smelly breath (she must be having a sour throat, you can sense it even she is one row of chairs behind you)
the highly impolite Bucharest supermarket cashier (she repeatedly let's you know she has closed her row, but won't light her "we're closed" sign unless you demand talking to her supervisor)
the polyglot Romanian stewardess hired by a German company (she will occasionally slip the "avec plaisir" faux pas, and revert to you politely when you ask for cola AND sugar)
the sloppy stewardess, military type (she will tell you "I have to finish serving everybody first" when you ask for a second sandwich, will forget all about that, and help the gentleman in front you with a sandwich even though he asked for it after you; you yourself will remain unserved, but polite)
the fat funny American on a mission
the fat American on a mission
the American on a mission (they will all talk loudly, and you will be thankful for not being placed next to then on the flight both because of their unstoppable blubber, and because of their king size)
the overpaid high official who summons a meeting he won't attend, but which he will sum up by drawing his already edited conclusions
the not so well paid official working for the overpaid high official, while hoping he will become the later (he thinks credit card is common place and at the centre of social organization, therefore all can be solved and or organized if one owns one)
the gay reception desk clerk (greets you with a smile, is ready to hanky panky if you are, has not had sex with his current boyfriend in a year, although he has scored even today)
the red-haired French supermarket cashier (very pierced, very funny, fresh and trash at the same time, warns you jokingly about the cholesterol level when she notices your three large marshmallows bags from Haribo)
the Newzealander woman with a family (she is as loud as an American, only she rides the bus in France, hence thinking nobody understands her conversation/monologue with the man seated before her; you will be briefed involuntarily about all her trips and daughter's belongings)