After a 90 minute flight from Chicago to Atlanta, we had a 40 minute layover in Atlanta during which we had to get off the plane and go from the gate where we alighted on concourse B to another on concourse A, where we had to board our next flight, without any idea how to get there.
We got directions and took off.

The bullet train from concourse B to A was quick and easy. We found the gate without any trouble, bit with only a few minutes to spare. They were already issuing the final boarding call.

Ms Crankypants at the gate desk wouldn’t let us board because two of us had three bags, not two. The maximum, as she insisted, was two.

We were surprised – nobody in Chicago had said anything, nor had the flight staff who helped me stow both my carry-on bag and my laptop.

Ms Crankypants sent us away to consolidate our luggage. All we had to do was each slip the smaller one inside the bigger one, and she had to let us go through.

Once past the gate we had a good laugh. Nothing weighed any less. It wasn’t going to stow or carry in a more compact way.
We both took our handbags out again, stowed our larger bags and our laptop bags in the overhead lockers, and travelled exactly as we had from Chicago.

That woman achieved nothing except to become the butt of a joke, the subject of a blog entry, and the only unpleasant Delta staff member I’ve met. I hope she is proud of herself.