Years ago, while working as a milkman, there was one particular customer, that was, apparently, wheelchair bound. Each day, I would follow the standard practice of going around to the back door and delivering her milk directly into her fridge. She would always take the opportunity to have a chat, (which I didn't really have time for but, out of compassion, I would devote about 30 minutes to indulge her).
Frequently, when I had finished my rounds, I would also pop back when I had finished the round to do odd jobs for her (the list is endless but includes the replacement of the ball cock on her toilet cistern, repair of her beloved transistor radio, replacement of an innertube on her wheelchair, etc..)
This poor old lady wasn't very popular with her neighbours. I had been warned that shes a typical Natzi. It was explained to me that this description was nothing to do with her strong German sounding accent (she was actually Austrian), but more about her attitude of superiority and her belief that the rest of the world was at her beck and call.
Despite these warnings, I chose to take her at face value and was more than willing to help this poor lonely old lady, as and when I could. After all, she had never said anything to offend me.
One day, as I turned up with her milk (and an electric clock that I had taken home to repair the previous day). I was absolutely busting for the toilet. Naturally I casually asked, "Sorry, but do you mind if I use your toilet". Although I had never asked before, I was fully expecting a positive response. Instead I heard the most vitriolic rebuff of my life, along the lines of:
"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!. Do you think I live in a public convenience? You're nothing but a common tradesman. Why do you think I insist on having my milk delivered to the back door. Because your a tradesman, that's why. If you were anyone important enough to be allowed to use my toilet, I'd allow you to use the front door like my friends. Just because I chat to you every day doesn't make you special you know! Now get out of my house, GET OUT, GET OUT GET OUT!" By now she had also picked up her walking stick and was attempting to thrash me with it
Amazingly enough, the next day, I received a number of notes saying, "if ever you need a toilet, please don't hesitate to knock".

Apparently she had told all her neighbours of the event and was surprised by their lack of sympathy for her. Oh, and when I got to Mrs Hs house, she went to great lengths to explain, "I do hope you didn't take anything I said to you yesterday too personally. Of course I like you, but there is a natural order to things that we must maintain. The very fabric of our civilisation relies on people knowing their place, so it's just as well we've cleared that up."