This is my sister’s story from back in the 1960s. While she was completing her college degree, she worked summers in the office of a summer camp where the campers and counselors lived there for the summer. She worked in the office, not with the campers.

The people in charge had the unusual practice of requiring all employees to take some standard IQ test. The purpose of this has never been clear.

As an office worker, my sister had the job of grading all of the IQ tests. There was only one version of the test, and of course, she knew all the answers from grading them. It would be reasonable to assume she was exempt from taking it, even though she, too, was an employee.

Nope. She had to take it herself, and she had to mark her own test. Of course, her score was perfect.

The fact that the people in charge were impressed by her score should tell you a lot about them.

Marketing people in Germany like to use the English language to give products or events an appearance of internationalism and modernity — even if their own language skills are somewhat lacking. A new client asked me to create promotional material for a project.

Client: “This will be for a camping trip on which the participants will meditate, focus on their inner strength, etc. I’d like to call it ‘Concentration Camp’ in English.”

After I recovered, I was able to tell her what that actually means. She saw the necessity of coming up with something different.

When I was in grade school, I’d go to a Methodist church camp on the Grand Mesa in Colorado. It was much like any secular summer camp, just with religious lessons (much like Sunday School) in the mornings and a sing-along campfire at night.

One year, on the last morning after breakfast, we were asked to answer some questions about our camp experience. The director had written a few questions on poster-size paper, and we were just answering on notebook paper and then turning them in. The last question puzzled me; it seemed like a rather deep religious question. So, I raised my hand to ask him to clarify.

Me: “[Director], what do you mean in that last question?”

Director: “Just what did you think about your options?”

Me: “Options on our re-creation?”

I was thinking of being Born Again.

Director: “No, that’s ‘recreation’. Y’know, boating, hiking, volleyball, softball.”

Me: “OH!”

I work at a campground at a resort between Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. Since we’re in bear country, there are storage lockers for foodstuffs and warnings all over the place (including signs fixed to every picnic table) warning not to leave food out.

Rangers patrol the area and routinely leave warnings for people that leave coolers on their tables while they are out for the day. They get a warning for the first offense, and items are confiscated for repeat offenders.

A group comes to the campground office complaining.

Park Guest: “Our food has been stolen!”

Me: “Which locker did you leave it in?”

Park Guest: “Locker? What locker? We left it on the table.”

Me: “Park rangers will confiscate food if it’s left on the picnic tables.”

Park Guest: “Well then, get it back for us!”

Me: “Well, it’s quite late, so the ranger station is actually closed. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to retrieve your food.”

Park Guest: “That’s unacceptable! That’s our food!”

Me: “Either the ranger confiscates it and you get it back, or a bear eats it and you get nothing. Which would you prefer?”

Silence.

Park Guest: *Storming off* “Stupid bears, ruining the park for everybody.”

At my primary school, the year fives and sixes got to go on a trip to this outdoorsy activity centre. We stayed for a week, sleeping inside where the bunk beds were since the trip was in late autumn.

As well as all the outdoorsy “fun” activities we got to do, every afternoon, we had an hour or so in a cabin-like classroom, and we could spend any money we had taken with us at the tuck shop. It was mostly just chocolate and sweets and stuff, but on Thursday — the last day since we went home on Friday — there were little souvenirs like a tiny teddy bear and a pen in the shape of an arrow.

We also had group chores. I don’t remember what all of the chores were, but in year six, my chore was to tidy the dinner hall after breakfast with four of my classmates.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning, this was fine. We wiped the tables and vacuumed the floors and such.

Thursday morning, we did some of that. As I was getting the vacuum cleaner with the smiley face out of the cupboard, one of the classmates I shared this chore with approached me.

Classmate: “The teacher said we don’t have to vacuum today.”

Me: “We don’t?”

Classmate: “Nope. We can go now.”

I looked to see what the other three were doing, and they were waiting by the door, ready to leave.

Me: “Okay.”

And my poor, naive, ten-year-old self put the smiley vacuum back and left with the others.

As some of you may have already guessed, no teacher had said any such thing.

When we went to that hour in the cabin classroom that evening, the teacher started with an announcement. It went on for a while, but the gist of what she said was this:

Teacher: “[My Group] left the dinner hall in a right state. They should be ashamed of themselves. They’re all really selfish, expecting our kind hosts to clean up after them when everyone else has been doing their chores. As punishment, they will not be allowed to go to the tuck shop tonight.”

I was devastated. I thought of myself as a good student and hated getting in any kind of trouble. And, as far as I was aware at the time, I was in trouble when I hadn’t done anything wrong.

I’d also been saving my £5 all week (even though some of the other kids were able to spend that much on sweets each day) so I could get each of my sisters a teddy (and spend the change on sweets). And now, I was banned from the last day of the tuck shop. I was bawling.

One of the teaching assistants took me out of the classroom, probably because my crying would not help the other students focus on whatever they were supposed to be doing.

She calmed me down enough that I could explain why I thought I hadn’t done anything wrong. She explained that I had been lied to and that I should have finished doing the chore unless a teacher told me personally not to. Most importantly, to ten-year-old me at least, she said that if I gave her my £5 note, then she would go to the tuck shop for me to get my sisters their teddies.

I was still upset, but I accepted her offer and returned to the lesson. Later, out of view of the other students, she gave me two tiny teddies and my change.

I’m so glad she was so nice and understanding, even though I hadn’t done what I was supposed to.