Mother's Day/BST crossover special

Philippa and I stopped off at a garden centre on our way to see her mum today. We found a suitable present a lot quicker than we expected to, so we decided to sit in the lovely conservatory coffee shop they have for a sneaky scone and a cuppa. (I’m pleased to report I had the English Breakfast pot-for-one, rather than one of the 70-odd different choices of fruity flavours they had on offer.) It was a very pleasant snack in a very pleasant setting, but there was one thing about the whole scenario that would put me off ever going back again.
The lady who served us stank really badly of garlic.
She had a lovely smile and a good manner, but as soon as she spoke we were knocked over backwards by a wave of putrid breath. It was like drowning in the end-of-day run-off from a massive French restaurant. 
And it lingered. I could taste it. My scone was nice but it was like I’d smeared it with garlic butter.
What really hacks me off is that chewing parsley is supposed to be a good way to nullify the smell of garlic, right? She works in a garden centre, for fecks sake, how hard would it be for her to find some parsley?

RC 26-3-17