For My Money, They Won’t Be Coming Back

, , , , , | Related | December 3, 2018

(My boyfriend and I are in Ontario to see his family and also to go to a concert. I generally get along very well with his relatives, but his grandparents can be a bit… brash. They don’t have much of a filter and always have to say their opinion. Most of the time they mean well; they’re nice people. But sometimes it comes off as a “holier-than-thou” attitude. This is one instance where I wish I’d spoken up for myself. For context, my boyfriend and I paid for everything for this trip, as we’re in our 20s and have relatively good jobs; we’re also in college, so we’ve been saving for this trip for a while. Our parents did not pay for our flights, concert tickets, gas, or any expenses, nor did we expect them to. We are driving back to the airport with his grandmother.)

Grandmother: “It was so nice to have you two down here; you should come back more often! We’d love to see you more!”

Me: “We’ll definitely try to come back soon, maybe next year after we graduate.”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, this trip was expensive, but it’s nice to have a break from school. I wish we could travel all the time, but we’ll probably have to wait until we get jobs in our field.”

Grandmother: “Yes, that would be a good idea. Both of you will get good jobs, and then you won’t have to use mommy and daddy’s money!”

Me: *speechless*

(She said it so casually, as if she knew this for a fact. I was extremely angry. I held my tongue, and we both gave curt goodbyes at the airport. As soon as she left, my boyfriend turned to me and said, “We’re not coming back to see her if that’s what she thinks of us.” I agreed. I told my parents when we got back home and they were annoyed, too, but more amused at the fact they actually thought our parents paid for all our things while we are more than capable of taking care of ourselves. Needless to say, we don’t talk to my boyfriend’s grandparents that much, and we don’t plan to waste OUR money going to see them again.)

A First Class Sob Story

, , , | Right | November 19, 2018

(I am standing in line to get a seat assignment for a flight from Vienna to New York. A young woman in front of me is called to the agent and immediately starts in on a sob story.)

Woman: “I need to be upgraded to first class. I get air-sick if I don’t have enough room.”

Agent: “I’d be happy to upgrade you. The difference in fare is [price]. I can charge that to a credit card if you’d like.”

Woman: “You don’t understand. I cannot pay that. You need to upgrade me at no charge so I don’t get sick.”

Agent: “I understand that, ma’am, but if you want to be upgraded, you need to pay the fare difference.”

Woman: *starts crying* “But I need to be upgraded.”

(This goes back and forth for a while with the agent calmly responding to her demands as she gets more and more agitated. Finally, she starts yelling at him.)

Woman: “I see you don’t care and you want me to be sick! When I’m sick on the plane, it will be your fault because you didn’t upgrade me.”

(The agent has had enough.)

Agent: “Ma’am, the only way I can upgrade you is if you pay the price difference. I’m happy to do that for you, but otherwise I cannot upgrade you. Unless you want to pay that, I’m going to have to insist that you take the seat I’ve assigned you and stop wasting the time of everyone behind you.”

(She stomps off, still crying, and I am called to the counter. The agent greets me with a huge smile and says:)

Agent: “Sir, it’s your lucky day. I’ve got an exit row seat available with no seat in front of it and extra room with priority boarding. Would you like that seat?”

(I gladly accepted it and looked over to see Little Miss Entitled glaring daggers at me and the agent. Unfortunately, I didn’t see any evidence that she had learned that treating people with respect rather than demanding things with patently phony requests might serve her better.)

He Is His Own Flight Risk

, , , , , , | Right | November 14, 2018

(I am going on holiday with my friend, and a man runs up to us and grabs me.)

Man: “Hey, tell me where I go for my flight.”

Me: “I do not work here, so I can’t tell you.”

Man: “You screw-up! I’ll call [Airline]’s manager and tell them you aren’t prepared to help me, and therefore you should be fired!”

Me: “But I don’t work for [Airline].”

Friend: “No, he doesn’t.”

Man: “Well, if I miss my flight, it’s thanks to [Airline] for hiring you two idiots!”

Friend: “Likely, and tell me when security arrive!”

(My friend and I are both laughing now, and the man storms off, muttering rude things under his breath.)

Man: *across from terminal exit* “WHY? I MISSED MY FLIGHT BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T TELL ME WHERE IT WAS! I HATE YOUR AIRLINE!”

(I walk up to him and ask him which was his flight.)

Man: “[Flight number] at [time of departure].”

Me: “That flight leaves at 18:55, and it’s 12:04. It leaves from Gate 12, Terminal 1, and we were at Gate 54, Terminal 3.”

Man: “Oh.” *walks off*

Me: *to friend* “And he was calling me a screw-up!”

(We laughed until we figured out we were about to miss our flight!)

Thinking Outside Their Box

, , , , , | Right | November 10, 2018

(I’m the stupid one in this story. At the airport, you need to empty your pockets and put your belongings in small black containers. While I do that, I absentmindedly stare at my wallet and phone and decide I don’t want to put them in a box. Instead, I keep them in my hands and walk through the scanner. Of course it goes nuts and I’m flagged down by a staff member. He sees my phone and wallet, looks at me, looks at his colleagues, and shouts:)

Staff Member: ”Hey, [Colleague], we’ve got a clever one here!”

(I almost died.)

Internal Intolerance

, , , , | Related | October 31, 2018

(My grandma was born before women were allowed to vote, and so could not pass on their citizenship to their children born outside the USA to foreign fathers. Despite not being a citizen, my grandma is super Republican-American in everything she does, and age has made her a little intolerant. Since my grandma got married in the USA, we are all citizens but her. One day we are passing through customs at MIA…)

Customs Employee: *takes one look at my grandma’s Costa Rican passport* “Buenos días, señora.”

Grandma: “Good morning.”

Customs Employee: *stops checking passport and looks up angrily* “Lady, I spoke to you in Spanish. Talk to me in Spanish.”

Grandma: *screaming and in a snarky tone* “WELL, I THOUGHT WE WERE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! WHERE WE SPEAK ENGLISH!”

(I am panicking in my head, thinking, “That’s it! We are getting detained! My grandma is going to get us kicked out! Is he going to make our life h***?! Am I going to have to bail my grandma out of jail? Are we both going to jail?” Instead, the Customs Employee, shocked, open-mouthed, and speechless, gives my grandma her passport, and she angrily walks away, leaving me behind.)

Me: *to employee still in shock* “Lo siento muchisisisimo.” *I am so so so sorry.*

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