Hi there, I’m a travel agent.
I book your flights, and send you on your way to many merry places. I can find you a cheap-ass trip to Vladivostok. I respect the fact that you worked hard to earn your PhD.
Unfortunately, and I must stress this again, you are NOT a doctor!
Your degree in History means jack shit to me if I’m having chest pains, or an embolism at 30,000 feet.
You see, there’s a thing called a manifest. It gets given to the flight crew on your plane. They study it, and if the person in seat 23B blows a valve, they’re coming looking for you! Thanks for wasting many potential “life saving” seconds, you pretentious fuck!
Might be a weak rant, but it bugs the shit out of me.