(Every year, I attended a Girl Scout camp for horseback riding. When I got too old to be a camper, I am hired as a stable hand, much to my excitement. However, that summer, the camp has a new manager, and she was, in a word, terrible. She fires people left and right for the stupidest things, and sadly, it is soon my turn. I am only seventeen at the time, so my parents have to be contacted. However, they are on vacation, so my uncle has been placed as loco parentis. He is a priest, and his parish is located nearby. When the manager calls his office, this is the conversation she has with his secretary.)

Secretary: “Hello, [Church] offices. How may I help you?”

Manager: “Yeah, hi. I need to speak to Mr. Smith about his niece.”

Secretary: “You mean Father Smith.”

Manager: “No, no, not her father. Her uncle.”

Secretary: “Ma’am, in the Catholic Church, priests are addressed as ‘Father.’ He is not ‘Mister Smith’ but ‘Father Smith.’”

(My uncle’s secretary is very big on protocol, although she’s actually really nice.)

Manager: “Okay, well, I need to speak to him.”

Secretary: “I’m sorry; he’s currently leading a funeral. If this is an emergency, I can take a message for him.”

Manager: “No, no! He needs to come get her NOW. Please tell him to come.”

Secretary: “Ma’am, he’s not a guest. He’s leading the ceremony. It just started and it won’t be over for about two hours.”

Manager: “What?! But he needs to come pick up his niece! He’s her guardian. He can’t leave her here!”

Secretary: “I understand. He informed me of the situation in case you ever called. Is the child hurt?”

Manager: “I can’t tell you that. He needs to come get her! Didn’t her parents go over this with him?”

Secretary: “Yes, ma’am. Her parents did explain the situation to him, but I’m also sure they explained to you that his duties as a priest might cause conflict. Her parents were aware of the risk, and I believe arranged it so that if she was hurt, she would be taken to the hospital and a message left for him.”

Manager: “She’s not hurt!”

Secretary: “Is she in any danger? Was there an accident? Was she arrested and he needs to post bail?”

Manager: “I can’t tell you that!”

Secretary: “Well, you did just tell me she’s not hurt, so I’m going to assume she’s in no danger. In that case, I will inform Father Smith that he needs to come get her after the funeral is complete.”

Manager: “Well, how long will that be?”

Secretary: “As I said before, about two hours.”

Manager: “Two hours! Can’t you tell them to hurry up?”

Secretary: *extremely offended* “Hurry up?! Lady, this is a funeral! A Catholic funeral! Besides the regular Mass rituals, there are certain ceremonies that must be done before the soul can pass on to Heaven. On top of that, this is a person who has just died, and his family is very grieved! And you want me to march in there, interrupting the hymns, stick my face in the Father’s while he’s giving the eulogy, and tell him to ‘hurry up’?! You’ve got some nerve!”

Manager: “But Mr. Smith needs to come get his niece…”

Secretary: “For the last time, he’s Father Smith! And either you are really that damn clueless about Catholics or you’re just plain stupid. Once the funeral is over, which will not be earlier than two hours, I will give the message that his niece needs picking up. He’ll call you when he’s on the way. And don’t get any ideas about calling back to check and see if the funeral is done. He’ll call you!” *slams phone down*

(I didn’t hear about this until after my uncle picked me up. But it explained why the manager came back to the room where she was keeping me prisoner and frostily said that I was going to have to wait. She explained that my uncle was at a funeral and “couldn’t be bothered.” I of course knew he was leading it, and tried to explain, but she still didn’t get it. There is a somewhat happy ending: after I left, she belatedly realized she didn’t have enough counselors, and had to cancel all horse sessions for the rest of the summer. That, and the filled out reports for all of us who were fired, got her fired as well.)

(I’m a Beavers Scout leader in Canada. Beavers is our youngest section – five- to seven-year-old boys and girls. Our programs are, by necessity, not quite as rugged as those of the older sections, especially in the city. A number of our more “macho” fathers have often complained that Scouting was so much more manly when they were youths. We’ve actually lost a few youths from the program because their fathers decided it wasn’t rugged enough. This particular father has attended nearly every meeting with his son all year long.)

Father: “It’s ridiculous how the lawyers have ruined Scouting. It’s not your fault, I know it’s just policy, but Beavers was way better when I was a kid. We were camping every month, hikes almost every week. Now you just play games and do stupid crafts.”

Me: “I think that you’re likely misremembering your time. Things have changed a bit, of course, but the program standards are still pretty much the same.”

Father: “No, it’s not. We were always out camping and we used to have campfires in the school parking lot every week and we never did any of these stupid crafts or games or songs!”

Me: “Well, if you could have campfires in the parking lot back then, I think that change is more the result of city bylaws and not anything to do with Scouts Canada. As for the rest, it’s pretty common for people to remember the big stuff they did when they were kids and not really remember the more mundane meetings in between. Crafts, games, and songs have always been a part of Beavers.”

Father: “No way. It used to be way better than this; nowadays you just coddle all the kids.”

Me: “Honestly, the program really hasn’t changed that much, other than in the ways society has.”

Father: “What would you know about it? You’re too young to remember what it was like when I was a Beaver, and girls weren’t allowed in back then, anyway! Like I said, I don’t blame you guys; it’s the lawyers’ faults!”

(When he comes to the next week’s meeting, I am ready. As soon as he sits down, I drop a large, heavy binder on the bench next to him.)

Father: “What the h*** is this?”

Me: “Meeting records for the 1979 [Elementary School] Beaver Colony, including attendance records with your name and meeting plans with craft instructions, game rules, and song lyrics. Would you care to point out all the camps in the schedule?”

Father: “Where the h*** did you get this?”

Me: “Dude, who was your Beaver leader? Do you really think our mother ever threw anything away? When I became a leader, she dumped everything on me.”

(For the first time ever, I got to win an argument with a parent, and my brother – the father in this story – doesn’t comment on the program anymore!)

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(My cousin and I are getting ready to go camping together. We both have vacation plans for after camping.)

Me: “Hey, are you packed?”

Cousin: “Yeah, I’ve been packed for a while now.”

Me: “No, I mean for camping.”

Cousin: “Oh, that. No. Are you?”

Me: “No, I can’t even find my suitcase.”

Cousin: “Didn’t you tell me yesterday that you packed for your other trip?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Cousin: “Maybe that’s why you can’t find it.”

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(In summers during college I work with kids at a summer day camp program. I have my eyebrow pierced.)

Kid: “Why do you have that thing in your eyebrow?”

Me: “It’s a decoration. You know how people have earrings? It’s like that, just in my eyebrow.”

Kid: *skeptical* “Really? I don’t think so.”

Me: “Yes, really.”

Kid: “No.”

Me: “You’re right. It’s not a decoration. I used to have a droopy eyebrow and this keeps it from falling down my face.”

Kid: “Oh! I hope I don’t get that…”

(I am a counselor at a summer camp. A parent asks me this as she is dropping her son off on the first day.)

Mother: “Camp starts at 9 am, right?”

Me: “Yes, that’s correct.”

Mother: “So when is the earliest I can drop him off?”

(This is a reasonable question, as some camps in the same building provide before-care options. Ours, however, does not.)

Me: “8:55? We always start with some casual games that the kids can join as they arrive, so there’s no need to worry about him missing anything.”

Mother: “But I need to drop him off, and his sister at her camp, and then I have to get to work. So I really need to drop him off earlier. His sister’s camp doesn’t have before-care so I need to drop her off second.”

Me: “I’m sorry; we don’t have before-care either.”

Mother: “But you must get here before 9.”

Me: “Well… we do get here earlier but we have setup to do.”

Mother: “I’ll just drop him off when you get here then.”

Me: “We really can’t be responsible for the children outside of camp hours.”

Mother: “He won’t bother you.”

Me: “Please do not bring him before 9.”

Mother: “Okay, see you at 8:30!” *walks away*

Me: “No… please don’t!”

(I got there at 8:20 the next morning and found the child sitting in the hallway outside the locked room!)