Flash is my medical response service dog for my PTSD. Today, I went down to my son's school to discuss a situation with one of his classes. While waiting in the office, I was approached by someone who asked me to remove my dog from the premises and then told me that he can't be here. He is vested, laying in a relax at my feet. I took the time to explain that he is a service dog and was then told he was okay, but only after the assistant went off to check the rules with others.
Sometimes, I wish that training would be more common with people.