Nasty Brute and Mr. Nice

I've experienced both emotional ends of the working world spectrum today, all before 1:15 pm. Here's the juxtaposition.

This morning I got a phone call from an individual who I will refer to as Nasty Brute. This is how the conversation went:

Nasty Brute: Hi, I need the phone number for _______ (one of the higher ups whose number I am forbidden to give to anyone).
Me: Oh I'm sorry, they don't actually work at this site. Can I take a message?
Nasty Brute: Well, then transfer me to _________ (another higher-up who I can't give out any information for).
Me: I'm sorry, they don't work at this site either, and I'm forbidden to give out phone numbers. May I get your information and give them the message?
Nasty Brute: Look, what's the big deal?
Me: May I ask who's calling?
Nasty Brute: I'm a student doing a project and I need to talk to ________. Just give me the number.
Me: Okay, I'm sorry, but I can't give it out--
Nasty Brute: Don't be a silly little girl. You better just transfer me to someone who CAN give me that information.
Me: (long pause, steam emitting from my ears) Let me talk to my supervisor.

I put him on hold.

My supervisor took the call, talked to him briefly, said we couldn't help him, talked over his whining, and hung up.

There are many choice words which would describe my digust at people like that. I won't say them, but they do exist.

Then around noon I was sent to go pick up lunch per usual. Today I was sent to a Greek restaurant that's owned by the sweetest, friendliest man with a handlebar mustache. We'll call him Mr. Nice (my creativity perplexes the mind, does it not?). I was paying for the office order, and this was our conversation:

Mr. Nice: So which of these things is your lunch?
Me: Oh, none of it, I'm just picking it up for a meeting (in retrospect I should have just lied, because what restaurant owner wants to hear that you're in their restaurant, but not eating their food?)
Mr. Nice: But why aren't you getting any? Are you on a diet or something?
Me: No no, just trying to save money, you know. I have eaten here before though and I loved it.
Mr. Nice: (points to my wedding ring) Are you newly married?
Me: Yeah.
Mr. Nice: Well, what have you eaten here before?
Me: I've had the Greek pizza and the pepperoni pizza.
Mr. Nice: (beckons to one of the waiters) Hey, can you get me 2 slices of pepperoni pizza in a box please? (smiles at me)
Me: Oh my goodness, you don't have to do that.
Mr. Nice: (waves his hand at me)
(waiter brings up box with pizza, he hands it to me)

On top of that, he gave me a $5 discount on the whole order.

I thanked him profusely and felt pretty embarrassed. I was not expecting/asking for that. Next time Harry can come up for lunch, we're eating there. And ordering EVERYTHING

I wish Nasty Brute was here so he could smell my free pizza.