The solo elderly American woman who insisted on being called Doctor. She was tiny and shrivelled, crabby and bird-like,dressed in a musty tartan pants suit. She had a Noo Yoik accent and walked unevenly with a stick. (I Googled her later, to discover she did have a Ph.D. in Chemistry from 1962). Despite her size she threw every wine sample down her throat, and progressively got rat-arsed drunker and even more crabby by the end of the tour. I had to half carry her off the minibus and escort her onto the hotel lobby. She didn't tip.
Another tall dwarf - this one from Melbourne, has been on two tours with me. He too, is small - about the size of a ten year-old boy. He is basically very friendly and chats away loudly in a nasal Ocker monotone, to anyone. Problem is he keeps talking. Non stop. As in - he never shuts up. At all. He also has no concept of the fact that other people (A) aren't all that fascinated with his life history and (B) do have schedules and timetables of their own. I have watched him dawdle over a single cappuccino for over half an hour: tiny sip. Swirl. Talk..... sip ....talk ... He doesn't pick up on things like other people glancing at their watch, or standing up and stretching and saying "Hmmmm. Well!"
Being the tour guide, and being responsible for timing he drove me nuts on both occasions. The last time, to my joy, I saw him on tour with a rival wine tour company - just him and the guide. Nerny nerny ner ner rival wine tour company, I thought.
Phil runs wine tours in Auckland New Zealand