Category: Transportation

At The Right Attitude Altitude

| Milwaukee, WI, USA | Employees, Transportation

(I am aboard a flight that is leaving at six am, at the end of January.)

Flight Attendant: “Welcome to your private jet. Since there are only ten of you, please feel free to sit where you’d like. We prefer the front of the plane, due to weight, but it doesn’t matter. Your flight attendants are [Name #1, Name #2, and Name #3] and we will be around to cater you when we are at cruising altitude.”

Time To Give It Away

, | New Zealand | Transportation

(My dad recently took a trip. He missed his early morning flight and gets another later that same day. After arriving at his destination, he goes to pick up his rental car.)

Dad: “I booked a car to pick up early this morning, but I missed my flight. I’m here now to pick it up.”

Car Rental Agent: “I’m sorry but we’ve given it away.”

Dad: “What do you mean, you’ve given it away? ”

Car Rental Agent: “You weren’t here to pick it up, so it was given to someone else.”

Dad: “Well, then, give me another one.”

Car Rental Agent: “We have no cars left. Our lot is empty.”

Dad: *starting to get angry* “Now, listen here. When I booked a car I made a contract with you. And it doesn’t matter if I’d pick up the car and was using it or it was still sitting in your lot because you’re still charging me for that time regardless of where it is. Now, you have to honour that contract.”

(Pulls out the printed email from the rental agency and hands it to the agent. Agent looks it over.)

Car Rental Agent: “This isn’t us.”

Dad: “What?” *looks at paperwork and realises he’s at the wrong car rental*

Dad: “Well, I don’t know who’s the bigger idiot here, you or me. I mean, I know I’m the idiot who went to the wrong counter, but why did you then tell me you’d given my car away without even checking if I was your customer?”

(Dad then went to the counter right next to the first, where they had his car waiting for him.)

Losing This Train Of Thought

| The Netherlands | Funny Names, Transportation

(I am moving to the UK for seven months. My mum is helping me move. I will move by train as it’s the most cost-efficient and practical way. I am also carrying a bike. My mum will go back home afterwards, also by train. This means that we have a pretty complicated ticket to book. We have to go to Brussels to catch the train to London, and from there we take a train to my final destination, in Wales. The tickets up until London we can book at the Dutch international rail office, but one employee tells us it is much, much cheaper to book the British ticket at their website. I attempt to do so but run into a problem. The tickets cannot be sent to another address than a UK address and the other option is to pick it up at a station with the credit or debit card you bought it with. My dad is the only person in the family with a credit card and our debit cards are Dutch and don’t utilise the same system so we can’t use them at the British website. Buying the tickets when we get to London is also a possibility but not with the bike as it needs a reservation and it would be a lot more expensive in any case. As we need to call for a bike ticket in any case I grab the phone. My dad calls first as it is his credit card we’re going to be using. The person on the other side of the line has a thick accent what we suspect is of Indian origin. My dad on the other hand has a pronounced Dutch accent. I can’t hear what is being said on the other side of the line.)

Dad: “I would like to buy some tickets for my daughter and my wife for their trip to the UK. I would like to know if it is possible for the tickets to be sent to our Dutch address or be sent by email.”

Dad: “Pardon, I didn’t understand what you said there.”

Dad: “They can just pick it up at the train station?”

Dad: “No… that is not possible. I will be paying for them so they can’t do that.”

Dad: “No… I am NOT giving them my credit card.”

Dad: “Pardon, what did you say? No, no. I cannot give them my credit card.”

Dad: “Yes, we WILL be paying.”

Dad: *to me* “You take it… I don’t understand him very well and I think it’s mutual.”

(I take the phone with a worried frown.)

Me: “Hello?”

Salesperson: “Hello, I understand you want to book tickets from us and there is a problem with that?”

Me: “Yes, my dad is paying with his credit card, but only my mother and I will be going.”

Salesperson: “That is no problem; you just go to the machine in London and get the ticket from there with the credit card used for the payment.”

Me: “I don’t think my dad is going to allow us to take his credit card… so that’s not possible. Is there any other option?”

Salesperson: “We can also send it to you. We send to all UK addresses.”

Me: “We don’t live in the UK, though. We’re going there… I want to get to my UK address with this ticket.”

Salesperson: “Well, you can also get the ticket from the ticket machine or the information desk.”

Me: “Without the credit card?”

Salesperson: “No, you need the credit card used for the payment.”

(I sighed internally but finally after a few more rounds like that managed to get in his head that that was not an option. He decided to make an exception for us and sent us the tickets to our Dutch address. Next came the fun with the Dutch names. I have the in the Netherlands very common surname ‘van der Wal’, which is relatively easy, but the name of my street and my city were not as straightforward. After a lot of back and forth we think we were on the same wavelength. Anxiously we awaited our tickets, and sure enough about a week later they arrived, sent to the correctly spelled address at the correctly spelled name. It was finally time to catch the train. After a gruelling trip of already over 8 hours to London we made it to London Paddington. We dragged our stuff on the train and squeezed into our reserved seats. I took a look at the ticket above our head and started to laugh. It proudly said: name: THUNDERWALL.)

Tire Of These Scams

| Scotland, UK | Liars/Scammers, Transportation

(My sister is babysitting me while getting her car serviced and MOT’d. The garage she has it done at doesn’t have the tires she uses so she is sent to a recommended garage. While my sister isn’t the brightest at times, one thing she is an expert on is cars.)

Sister: “Yes, I just need my front passenger side tire changed with [Make], please.”

Mechanic: “We can check all your tires, just to be sure.” *winks*

Sister: “No. I just need the one, thank you.”

Mechanic: “Sure… I’ll do the full check, just for you.” *winks*

(We both get a bad vibe from him, but my sister just shrugs. He comes back ten minutes later.)

Mechanic: “Looks like you need four new tires. They’re all below the limit. I can’t legally let you leave on those. I recommend [Expensive Make], as they’re more durable than your own.”

Sister: “May I?”

(She extends her hand for the clipboard the mechanic is using. He offers it and she examines it.)

Sister: “Okay, we’re going to go out to my car, and this time we’ll check my tires together.”

Mechanic: “I don’t think that’s necessary—”

(My sister is already through the door, me closely behind. The mechanic reaches us as we get to her car.)

Sister: “Go on, then.”

(The mechanic grudgingly kneels down and does the check. My sister kneels down and grabs his instrument before he finishes and does her own check.)

Sister: “This is how you check tire tread.”

Mechanic: *wide eyed* “H-how do you know that?”

(My sister ignored him and finishes her own check, compares the two measurements and motions for me to get in the car.)

Sister: *handing empty clipboard* “[Garage] will be very interested to see these.” *gets in car*

Mechanic: “They would even know what you’re talking about, stupid b****!”

Sister: “I think they will, given I’m best student they’ve had.”

(We left and dropped by my sister’s garage. She handed the inspection sheets over and disappeared from view for a few minutes. When she got back she said one thing to me: “blacklisted.” The formerly recommended garage was closed due to bankruptcy within a year, as no one would touch it.)

Making A Cleaner Getaway

| Winnipeg, MB, Canada | Overtime, Transportation

(I work in IT. One night, I have to work very late, and because my office is in a bad part of town and I don’t have a car, I call a taxi instead of taking the bus.)

Taxi Driver: “So, you work for [Company], eh?”

Me: *very tired, and not really paying attention* “That’s right.”

Taxi Driver: “What’s it like working there?”

Me: “Most of the time, it’s fine. I hate it when I have to work this late, though.”

Taxi Driver: “Guess you shouldn’t have chosen this line of work, then.”

Me: “Um, I guess.”

Taxi Driver: “Are they hiring right now?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Taxi Driver: “I bet working there would be easier than driving a cab.”

Me:  “Maybe… Did you study IT at university?”

Taxi Driver: “IT? You’re not a cleaner?”

Me: “What? No.”

Taxi Driver: “Oh.” *is quiet for the rest of the drive*

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