6 American Privileges I Never Appreciated Until They Were Gone

I Never Realized How Privileged My American Life Was Until I Left It Behind

Fast Refunds, Friendly Service and Fluent English All Vanished the Second I Left the US

The last time I couldn’t get a refund, because refunds weren’t a thing was in North Macedonia, inside a phone shop that looked like it doubled as someone’s living room. 

I’d bought a SIM card that didn’t work. I came back an hour later, receipt in hand, expecting a new one or at least a quick apology. 

What I got instead was a confused stare, a shrug, and the slow turn of the shopkeeper’s head back toward the soccer match on TV.

That’s when it hit me, yet again!

I’d been raised in a magical land where the customer is always right, two-day shipping is a constitutional right, and the phrase “I’d like to speak to the manager” is considered a nuclear option.

But out outside the good ol’ US of A?

None of that mattered.

It wasn’t just North Macedonia.

In Ukraine, a friend of mine, another American expat, tried to return a blender that literally started smoking during its first use.

The store clerk laughed, offered him last year’s calendar in Ukrainian Cyrillic, and told him to “be more careful next time.”

In Georgia, I learned the hard way that asking “Do you speak English?” doesn’t always get you help, it gets you a sheepish smile, a slow head shake, and occasionally, an impromptu practice session in Russian complaining skills.

I’d lived in France, Ukraine, Spain, and a handful of other countries, and each one had its own way of quietly dismantling everything I thought was normal.

Things like refunds, fast service, being understood on the first try, or assuming anyone cares that I’m frustrated.

These weren’t universal experiences.

They were American privileges.

I just didn’t know it.

In this article, I’m going to walk you through six of the biggest privileges I didn’t know I had until they disappeared abroad.

If you’ve ever assumed your passport gets you in anywhere, that English is the global default, or that customer service is actually for the customer, buckle up.

This might sting.

1. Refund Culture: An American Superpower

In the US, if something doesn’t work, you bring it back. End of story.

I once returned a half-used candle to a major retailer and got a full refund with an apology and a coupon for my “trouble.”

Then came Albania. I bought a bus ticket from Tirana to a nearby town, but the schedule had changed and I missed the bus by ten minutes.

I asked for a refund. The man in the little parking lot shack that sold the tickets didn’t even laugh. He just looked at me like I had asked him for his car keys.

In France, I once tried to return a pair of shoes the day after I bought them because they were too tight.

The saleswoman looked me dead in the eye and said, “You tried them. They are yours.”

What That Taught Me: If you’ve been raised in refund culture, be prepared to let that go.

Outside the US, the burden is on you to make the right decision the first time.

Buyer’s remorse? That’s your problem, not theirs.

2. Passports That Open Doors You Never Knew Were Locked

When I lived in France, traveling across Europe was seamless. Flash the blue passport, smile politely, and walk through. It felt normal.

Until I moved to Ukraine.

There, I learned how quickly that “privileged traveler” bubble could burst.

At the Polish border, a stern woman border guard boarded the train with a clipboard and gave my passport more attention than I’ve gotten on most dates.

In Georgia, a fellow traveler from Nigeria told me it took him three separate embassy visits, a bank statement, and a notarized letter just to get a 10-day tourist visa.

What That Taught Me: Not everyone travels with a passport that opens doors without questions. The U.S. passport is basically the VIP pass of global mobility.

Most Americans have no idea how rare that is.

Once you’ve stood in line behind someone getting grilled at immigration for a 30-day tourist visa, you start to realize not everyone travels as easily as you do.

3. The Privilege of English Being the Default

In Ireland, English is everywhere, obviously. And in Spain, France, and even Ukraine, there’s usually someone who’ll give it a shot if you’re stuck.

But in Georgia, I found myself in a cellphone store where every menu, every form, and every setting on the screen was in Georgian script.

I stared at it like it was an alien language. Because it was.

I’ve sat on buses in Bulgaria with no idea if I was heading toward Sofia or Serbia.

Once, a hotel in Dnepropetrovsk (now Dnipro), Ukraine handed me a Wi-Fi code written in Cyrillic.

No translation. No smile.

Just a wave, like “Figure it out yourself, Johnny Foreigner.”

What That Taught Me: Speaking English abroad is not a given, it’s a privilege, an invisible passport of its own.

Most Americans never realize they have it until it vanishes… and how rarely we return the favor.

4. Feeling Heard… And Expecting It

Back home, if a meal was undercooked or my room wasn’t ready, I’d speak up. Politely, but firmly.

The expectation was simple, my voice matters.

In Ukraine, I once brought up a mistake with a restaurant bill. The waiter looked at me, blinked, and then walked away.

No explanation. No fix. Just gone.

In Bulgaria, a cold hotel shower got me nothing but a half-hearted shrug from the receptionist.

What That Taught Me: Being heard is not a right in many places. It is a luxury.

When you’ve grown up believing that your feedback matters, the silence can feel like a slap in the face.

5. The ‘Customer Is Always Right’ Myth I Took as Fact

I once taught a business English class in Ukraine where the topic was “customer service.” My students laughed.

They thought American customer culture was a joke.

“We don’t smile unless we mean it,” one said. “And we never apologize unless we’re actually sorry.”

In Greece, a barista once served me a lukewarm espresso and, when I asked for a hotter one, replied, “It’s not a soup.”

In Tbilisi, Georgia, a taxi driver dropped me off six blocks from my hotel, muttered something about traffic, and took off.

The idea that customers deserve special treatment?

That’s not universal. It’s branding.

What That Taught Me: Once you leave the refund bubble, you learn fast that entitlement does not travel well.

6. How Fast We Expect Everything… And How That Shapes Us

In the US, if a page doesn’t load in two seconds, we reload it.

If our food delivery takes longer than promised, we track the driver like a fugitive.

That mindset came with me to Georgia, until it nearly drove me insane.

In a Tbilisi restaurant, I waited 15 minutes for a menu. When I asked for one, the waiter nodded… then went outside for a smoke.

In Kyiv, a bank took four days to process a single money transfer.

In France, a friend once joked that bureaucracy is a national sport, and I believe him.

But here’s the thing, they aren’t rushing because they don’t need to.

What That Taught Me: Slowness is not always inefficiency.

Slowness isn’t always inefficiency. Sometimes it’s just different priorities.

Oh, and realizing that can be the first step in unlearning how deeply we associate speed with value.

What Privilege Really Means

Privilege isn’t always about wealth or power. Sometimes it’s about never having to think twice.

About believing a refund is guaranteed, a service will be fast, or a stranger will understand your words.

Living abroad stripped all that away.

But, what I was left with wasn’t frustration… it was perspective.

So here’s my question for you:

What’s something you didn’t realize was a privilege until it disappeared?