I work for a Spanish company. It’s been seven or eight years, and we know each other pretty well.

I’ve known and worked with the CTO (Chief Technology Officer) for like ten years now. He’s a cool guy who wants stuff done.

Even before 2020, the work-from-home policy was extremely relaxed — you do you, have things done by the time we need it, and we’re okay — so when the global health crisis came, the transition was as easy as it could get.

In fact, as a company, especially on the tech team, we embraced the opportunity and started hiring people from outside the city for a cheaper salary than in the city but, for those people, a higher salary than the one they could get without moving into the city. I even moved out of the city during that time.

Since [CTO] didn’t want to be a sales guy, the company hired a CEO in 2021, an Englishman who came highly recommended and was stationed in his rural house in the English countryside. He looked like a cool relaxed guy for a while.

Once the health crisis ended, [CEO] started pushing rather heavily for a return to office (RTO) for everyone. He made polls and sent lengthy emails to everyone about how this fostered relationships and whatnot.

[CEO] got really pushy, even complaining to [CTO] about it. Every time he came to Spain, people who lived around the city would go to the office, just to be there, so [CEO] was happy.

And then, one time, [CTO] decided that he had enough with the whole RTO mandate and [CEO] complaining.

On a random meeting of the tech team, [CTO] said:

CTO: “Okay. Next Tuesday, I want everyone in the office. If you live far away, book a train, drive, or whatever you have to do — I’ll pay — but be here.”

And so, we did. That Tuesday, every single member of the tech team, including people who took a two- or three-hour trip to get there, was in the office.

Guess who wasn’t there? Yeah, [CEO].

So, [CTO] took a picture and emailed it to [CEO] saying something along the lines of, “If you can’t lead by example, don’t push my people to do things that don’t work,” and we went to have a relaxing lunch and beers type of day.

Aftermath: the RTO mandate never came to fruition, [CEO] was out of the company a year later, and we closed the office since everyone works from home 100% of the time. To his dismay, [CTO] is now the CTO and acting CEO, and things are going smoothly.

I am half English and half Spanish. I grew up in England but after Brexit happened I decided to move to Spain to get my Spanish passport back as it is much easier to have an EU passport when travelling around Europe and inheriting my grandparent’s house.

I work at a tourist-heavy airport, and since my English is fluent I am usually assigned to the area where passengers disembarking from their planes need to be directed to the correct immigration lines. They are split into three lines: One for Spanish, One for the EU, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, and Japan, and one for all the rest.

Luckily I have only experienced the following once, but once was enough to remember! 

I see some holidaygoers with British passports enter the wrong line.

Me: “Excuse me, but you need to join the “other” queue.”

Passenger: “Oh, it’s okay, we’re British.”

Me: “Yes, and you need to join the “other” queue.”

Passenger: “No, we’re British. We need to be in this queue.”

Me: “This queue is for the EU, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, and Japan. British passport holders need to join the “other” queue.”

The passenger glances over at the “other” queue, which is noticeably more diverse, and looks visually disgusted.

Passenger: “No, we don’t belong with them! We’re British!”

Me: “This queue is for the EU, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea and Japan.”

Passenger: “We’re European!”

Me: “And this queue is for the EU. Non EU-member states join the “other” queue.”

Passenger: “You’re just doing this to punish us, aren’t you?!”

Me: “As far as I am aware, sir, this line has always been for the EU, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea and Japan. We have changed nothing.”

Passenger: “You’re just angry we took our borders back!”

Me: “Sir, again I have to ask you to join the other queue.”

Passenger: “You love pushing us into the longer line, don’t you!”

Me: “Again, sir, as far as I am aware, sir, this line has always been for the EU, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea and Japan. We have changed nothing. You can remain in this queue, but the immigration officer will only send you to where I am advising you to go now, thus saving you time.”

Passenger: “This is ridiculous! Pure discrimination!”

The passenger angrily marches to the correct line, sneering at everyone around them. I was told they also complained to the immigration officer when they entered the country and moaned that the officer’s accent was too thick.

My flight to Spain has just landed, and we are making our way to the border check at the airport. This particular destination is also popular with a lot of British tourists, many of whom are on this flight.

It’s important to note that this story takes place after the Brexit referendum, so British passport holders now have to go through much more extensive checks at security. This, of course, is not acceptable to the bald gammon standing in front of me in the longest queue imaginable. His sighing and groaning develop into muttering before he lets this absolute belter out:

Passenger: “This is ridiculous. It wasn’t this bad the last time we came here!”

He’s looking around to see if anyone is agreeing with him. But alas, no, nearly everyone else is quiet and just trying to get through security. I make the mistake of making one millisecond of eye contact with him, which he takes as his cue to lecture me about it.

Passenger: “This is why I voted for Brexit! All these bloody controls and checks, and for what?”

Me: “Okay, but you just said you voted for these checks and controls. So, what’s the problem?”

Passenger: “Well, I thought— Hang on. Where’s your accent from?”

Me: “Cork.”

Passenger: “Oh, well. I’m sure you will learn in time why we voted for Brexit!”

Me: “Well, since the Republic of Ireland didn’t vote with the UK, we don’t need to—”

I’m about to finish my sentence when it dawns on me. I’m standing in the non-EU queue. A security official has also clocked onto the gammon’s loud and obnoxious tirade and has come over. He takes one look at my very Irish passport, opens the tether, and ushers me over to the EU queue, which is much smaller in comparison. The gammon tries following, but the guard places the tether back across.

Passenger: “How come he gets to cut the queue?!”

Because unlike you, I have more than two brain cells and didn’t vote for something totally against my own interests.

I’m the author of this story. I thought I would share what happened to me on the way back.

For context: as a result of injuries I picked up playing field hockey in school, I developed arthritis in my knees and hips in my twenties. Because of this, if I sit for a long time, I can get painfully stiff, so if I’m on a long journey, I carry a walking cane so that I can get moving again.

On the journey out, despite the screwdriver shenanigans I highlighted in the last story, the cane raised not an eyebrow, despite being folded up and in my hand luggage.

A week later, flying back from Spain to the UK? A totally different story.

The Spanish baggage check found my cane… and wouldn’t allow it on the plane. I was told that it would have to be checked into the hold. I tried to argue with the security guy (yes, it was a guy) that it was a medical aid and that I would need it to help me get off the plane, but my Spanish was limited, or his English was, or he just didn’t listen. So, I had no choice but to get it labelled up and put into the hold. Our luggage had already been loaded; it had to go in loose. I resigned myself to never seeing it again and to a painful disembarkation in the UK.

I rejoined my wife’s family and went back through security. My bag was checked and cleared, I walked through the metal detector… and set it off. Up came an associate with a wand, which she waved over me. It pinged at my hip. Great. In my annoyance over the cane, I’d forgotten to take my keys out of my pocket. I muttered an apology and was about to take them out when, suddenly, the security person who had originally objected to the cane came rushing over, waving his arms and shouting in Spanish. “Brilliant,” I thought. “I’m in trouble, and I’m about to be refused boarding.”

Imagine my surprise when, instead, we were escorted through security to the departure lounge and fast-tracked through boarding! My brother-in-law, whose Spanish is better than mine, asked me:

Brother-In-Law: “Why do they think you have an artificial leg?”

Yes, folks, because I’d kicked up a fuss about my walking cane, and because something at hip height had set off their metal detector, Spanish security assumed — didn’t ask, just assumed — that I was wearing a prosthetic. I didn’t mind. It got us onto the plane first!

Then, at the other end, when we arrived in the UK, two very nice stewardesses were waiting with a wheelchair to take me off the plane!

Oh, and I did see the cane again — when we went through to get the luggage, it was one of the first things off the plane.

Related:
Airport Absurdity And Screwdriver Security Shenanigans

I teach French as a foreign language. A couple of weeks ago, I was playing a game with my students where I clipped a picture of a celebrity to each one’s back and they had to ask their classmates questions (in French) to find out who they were.

One was Angelina Jolie, born in 1975. During the game, I mentioned that she was only two years older than me. The student recapitulated the information he’d already found out for himself but audible to the ones around him, including me:

Student: “Actress, American, old…”

To the class’s credit, they immediately gasped in horror.