Please Pardon Our Dust

The following exchange took place in an airport between an annoying lady with bad posture and a ticket agent with good – albeit quite trained – posture.

Hi. How can I help you?
I’d like to file a complaint.
Oh.
Let me speak with your supervisor.
Excuse me?
God. Your su-per-vis-or. Speak English?
Ma’am. I’m a ticket agent. Are you looking to upgrade on-
No! I have a complaint. Bring me your supervisor.
This isn’t a store.
No shit.
Ma’am.
What?
What’s your complaint?
Well, now I have two complaints.
What’s your original complaint, ma’am?
The dust.
The what?
Are you not hearing me?
I heard you.
Then what did I say.
“The dust.”
Yes. The dust. This terminal is dusty.
Is this a joke?
I’m allergic.
You’re allergic to…dust.
Are you making fun of me?
It’s an airport terminal. There’s no dust.
Prove it.
You prove it!
Get me your supervisor.
No. Next in line please!
Excuse me, but I have a right to be heard.
Why?
Because I’m a paying customer, that’s why.
What flight are you on?
I just landed here five minutes ago.
So you just landed.
That’s what I said.
And you were suddenly overwhelmed by the dust.
More or less.
In an airport terminal void of dirt.
Well it must be coming from somewhere.
Excuse me, ma’am, but I need to take the next person in line.
What are you going to do?
About what?!
The dust.
Nothing.
Nothing?
Are you not hearing me?
Don’t try and turn this around on me. If someone is smoking in the terminal, do you do nothing?
There are no smoking signs, ma’am. Even on the airplanes.
How about that.
Can you even be allergic to dust?
Probably not.

She left the desk, much to the ticket agent’s befuddlement.

Two weeks later, a man with similar posture and Benjamin Franklin bifocals approached the desk. He also had a complaint. The ticket agent didn’t say much. She merely called for the next person in line and mechanically pointed to this minimalist sign hanging abruptly to her right:

Sign captured @ Miami Airport

Sign captured @ Miami Airport

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