Welcome home to Paris!

Arrive at Gare de Lyon at about 15.10. Want to take bus 20, whose terminus is, helpfully enough, Gare de Lyon. Get to bus stop at about 15.15 (my guess, not wearing a watch). Two number 20s there, lights on, empty with no drivers. Sticker on bus stop says that stop is not in service, and to go somewhere else that is not located on the neighborhood map. Fortunately, just a bit farther down the street is a stop for the 65 bus which will also get me home, but where the display says that the bus won't be leaving for 8 minutes.

See a driver approach the first of those number 20 buses (the ones at the stop that supposedly is not in service) and open the door. I approach and ask him:
"Please, can you tell me when you're leaving?"
He replies but I'm sure I can't have heard him properly, so I repeat the question. This time, the answer's clear:
"Today."
I beg his pardon, and he repeats:
"Not tomorrow, today. You want to know when I'm leaving? I'm leaving today."
No smile on his face, no sparkle in his eyes. This is not a lame attempt at humor. The guy's just a major asshole.
So I rephrase my question:
"Please, can you tell me what time you're leaving?"
He replies: "At 15.19."
And so, I must ask yet another question:
"Please, can you tell me in how many minutes you're leaving?"
"In two minutes."
"Thank you ever so much, kind sir."

Welcome home to Paris, the land of the asshole.