Americans know customer service like no other nation. Sure, we Europeans laugh and joke about the Americans’ niceties and over-polite waitresses, but hey, it’s better than under-polite which is something we’re way too used to over here.

Now, the French have supposedly made an art of being obnoxious, but we’re not that far behind here in Scandinavia. Or, we’re not obnoxious. We’re just afraid of the Man.

I helped a friend move some stuff with a rented van. Everything went fine, and we drove back to the gas station to return the car. We’re there 7.15. pm and can’t find a parking spot on the lot. My friend goes in, and the guy tells him that since he came in too late – he was supposed to return it by seven, something my friend had not realized – finding a parking spot for the night was my buddy’s problem because he couldn’t return the van until the next morning.

The car rental side of the gas station had closed, you see. The rest? 24/7.

But no, he couldn’t deal with that van tonight. “We have our routines, you see,” said the guy with the walrus moustache.

My friend came back and told me this, so I decided to play good cop / dumb cop / bad cop with the Walrus. Went in, and asked him, in my nice guy voice if we could park the car in the car wash. (This was when I was under the impression that they were closing the entire station).

“No.”

“Well, where do you keep the vans? Where would you have parked the car had we come here 15 minutes earlier?”

“In the garage.”

“Well, can’t we take the van to the garage now?”

“No.”

“Why not?” (And now I am the dumb cop).

“Because it’s full.”

“Well … where had you parked the van then, had we come here 15 minutes earlier if it’s full?”

“I would have figured out something.”

“Can’t you do it now?”

“No.”

(And now I am the bad cop).

“So, basically, you don’t want to help us out. Why not?”

“You were late.”

“But my friend’s leaving the country tomorrow morning, he can’t be here at seven to drop off the van, can’t you help us just a little bit?”

“Why can’t you drop it off in the morning?”

“Why should I? I don’t even live around here. You really can’t do anything?”

“No.”

So, fuming, I took off and hopped back into the van. We parked the van a block away from the gas station and started walking. I noted the address and told my friend that we should just tell them to go pick it up there in the morning.

He called them ten minutes later, and there was another tune in the whistle. Sure, that was fine, just drop off the keys and he’d take care of the car in the morning. No problem.

Why is it that people are company men? Why was it so hard for him to put himself in my friend’s situation and try to work with him, instead of against him? Will I ever, ever go back to that gas station?

My theory is that the service people in Finland and Sweden don’t have the authority to make any decisions that aren’t in the book. They’re scared. You don’t think on the job, you just execute orders. And if you have to choose between the boss and the customer, you go with the boss. The customer’s going to disappear, the boss won’t.

And the answer to the last question is obvious: I boycott Statoil.