About 1998, our company won a contract to supply offshore drilling to work offshore Burma, and I was sent to establish the necessary logistics to support our crews when they flew in and out of the country.

I was there three weeks before returning to Singapore with the contacts and information we needed before the first crew arrived.

Back then, on arrival, it was a requirement to change 100 USD at the government exchange booth before leaving the airport. The rate was about 6 kyats to the dollar, but once in the country, one could get up to 350 per dollar on the black market. Visa cards were not accepted anywhere, and ATM machines were non-existent, requiring me to pay cash for everything.

When I returned to Singapore, I submitted an expense report based on the black market exchange rate, as I was an honest employee, even though our policy was to use the official rates the company provided each week. (We were a large international employer with rigs throughout the world.)

Three weeks of hotels, meals, transport, and entertaining came out to about 945,000 kyat

The original report submitted was 945,000/350 = $2700 USD. Soon after, our (disliked, and by the book) finance lady came to my desk very upset and berated me in front of everyone because I did not use the company-specified rate, and told me I would not be paid unless this was corrected. She then stormed away before I could reason with her.

Okay then, if that is what you want, that is what you will get. So I redid the report using the 6 kyat rate, which then came out to 945000/6 = $157,500 USD.

I submitted the report, which she then approved, and forwarded it to the manager, who in turn came to my desk, berating me for submitting such a ridiculous report. Everyone around smiled as they knew the full story, and I had to give credit to the manager for taking the time to listen to my side of the story.

He left, and a short time later, the finance lady came back and apologized, asking me to resubmit my report.

All had a good laugh at her expense.

I am Chinese-American, visiting Singapore with some friends. The Caucasian bartender speaks absolutely immaculate Mandarin.

Me: “I have to say your Chinese is really good!”

Bartender: “Thanks, I was actually born here.”

Me: “Oh.”

I just became that customer who said you speak the local language well for someone who doesn’t look like they normally do. I used to cringe back in the US when I would see customers tell Asian waitstaff they speak really good English in a Chinese restaurant and they say “I was born here.”

I made sure to tip the bartender extra.

Related:
If You’re Self Aware Enough To Worry About Being THAT Customer, You’re Not THAT Customer

My husband and I are on a long flight from Singapore to London. As we’re spending thirteen-and-a-half hours in economy, we want to be as comfortable as possible, so once the first meal has been served and the lights in the cabin are beginning to dim for the overnight flight, my husband reclines his seat.

As soon as he does this, the passenger sitting behind him starts kicking the back of his seat.

Passenger: “Excuse me! Sorry, but no! You can’t do that! You’re taking up my space! Hello!”

Shocked, we both stand up and look behind us to look at her.

Me: “He’s just reclining his seat.”

Passenger: “He’s taking up my space!”

Me: “The seats are meant to be reclined.”

Passenger: “No they’re not!”

Me: “Your argument would be stronger if you didn’t have your own seat reclined.”

Passenger: “There’s a kid in the seat behind me! They’re tiny so it doesn’t matter.”

My husband and I look at each other, more amused than anything, and go back to sitting down. Within seconds the kicking resumes.

Passenger: “Push…” *Kick.* “…your…” *Kick.* “…seat…” *Kick.* “…back up!”

Me: *Standing back up and staring her down.* “He will not be making himself uncomfortable for a thirteen-hour flight just because you feel he’s invading your space. Stop kicking or we’ll call over a flight attendant.”

Passenger: “I’ll call them myself! He’s not allowed to do this!”

True to her word, she alights for a flight attendant who promptly dashes over and asks how they can help.

Passenger: “The man in front of me has reclined his seat!”

The flight attendant just blinks, obviously waiting for more. When nothing complaint-worthy is forthcoming:

Flight Attendant: “Ma’am, outside of take-off, landing, and mealtimes, he is well within his rights to recline his seat.”

Passenger: “No! I have no space! He can’t do that!”

Flight Attendant: “Yes he can, ma’am, just as you are currently doing. Please refrain from bothering other passengers.”

Passenger: “This isn’t right! I shouldn’t have to fly like this!”

The flight attendant leans in, and maintaining their customer service smile, responds in the most chillingly passive-aggressive tone that can only come about from years of practice:

Flight Attendant: “Ma’am, may I suggest that in the future you purchase an upper-class ticket? That way you can avoid these… awkward moments. Please do let us know if we can be of any assistance with anything else outside of other passengers exercising their economy cabin privileges!”

And with that, the flight attendant casually turned off the passenger’s call light and went back to doing their actual job. 

My husband actually doesn’t usually keep his seat reclined for the entire flight as he usually sits up straight to do some work/reading on his tablet. This flight he made an exception and lounged back all the way until landing…

I used to work in a luxury bag shop. Whenever we had our big annual sale, we would have large crowds and queues going out the door.

This group of ladies flew in on holiday and came for the sale. They were grabbing multiple bags to decide on later, walking around the shop with their arms full of bags, not caring that other customers wouldn’t have a chance to look at them. When they were finally ready, they hogged the mirror to try on the bags, leaving those they were not trying on the floor (which was bare concrete) and took their time to make their decision.

They then approached a sales associate and proceeded to hog her to calculate the best way to bundle their bags to give them the best discount. This took nearly thirty minutes.

Finally, they joined the queue to pay, which at this point was almost an hour long and found their way to the cashier, me.

Their purchase amounted to almost ten grand, and of course, they tried to get me to give them an additional discount because their bags were dirty (remember, they left the bags on the floor while trying them on). I simply wiped it with a dry cloth and the problem was solved.

It gave me great pleasure to loudly proclaim that three of their credit cards declined. They eventually had to split the amount across five credit cards and they went on their merry way. I did not say “see you again” when they walked out.

Related:
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 29
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 28
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 27
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 26
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 25

I just bought a bunch of items from a shop, amongst them tissue boxes for my office. This is the type that comes in a pack of five boxes, held together in plastic. I have three of these packs, and they turn out to be too bulky to fit into my reusable bags. The shop is too busy, so I take my items outside, where there are a few benches. It’s common for people buying from this shop to take their purchases to the benches and repack them.

The only empty space is next to a middle-aged woman. There’s a metal bar in the middle, separating the bench into two, so our spaces don’t overlap. It’s quite natural for me to take the other space, or so I thought.

I place my items on the bench and reshuffle them around. The tissue packs are too bulky to fit, so I end up having to break the pack and fit them in sideways. The pack is sitting on the bench, and I take each box out one at a time, so at the end, I have the plastic packaging left on the bench. I’m still shifting the items about so the bags aren’t too heavy for me to carry.

The woman next to me has been ignoring me the entire time. I’m done reshuffling my items, so I sling my reusable bags onto my shoulders and stand there for maybe two seconds to check that I’m okay with the weight.

All of a sudden, the woman reaches across to my side and GRABS the piece of plastic left on the bench. She flings it down angrily at me like a kid throwing a tantrum.

Woman: “DON’T YOU LITTER!”

I stare at her, startled. Of course I’m going to throw it away when I leave. It’s not as though I’ve walked away and left it there.

Me: “I’m not done yet. I’ll throw it when I leave.”

Woman: “GO AWAY! GO AWAY!”

She throws the plastic around on the bench as she yells at me.

Me: “I’ll throw it away when I leave. I’m not littering.”

The woman starts clapping her hands and fake-laughing loudly.

Woman: “HAH HAH HAH! HAH HAH HAH!”

I back away, thinking that she is mentally unsound. I gather my stuff and start to get out of there.

An older man walks up, just in time to miss the interaction.

Man: *To the woman* “Oh, hi!”

He started talking randomly about the food at a nearby shop. The woman started talking normally like the last few minutes hadn’t happened. She was so lucid now, she no longer seemed mentally unsound like I’d thought earlier. They were chatting like they were neighbours, talking about the rising costs of the food at the shop nearby.

I took advantage of her distraction to disappear, taking the plastic with me. I’ve no idea what that was all about.