I work as a lecturer for an educational institution with branches all over the country. My branch is regarded as the finest in the whole organization, and this story is about the time I realized why.

Around five years after I started working there, the board of directors of our organization decided to gather all the lecturers at a conference hotel. The idea was to exchange experiences and generally have a nice time with our colleagues.

We were organized into groups based on subjects. All lecturers from different schools who taught the same subjects would be in the same groups. The day’s program would be decided by different groups: the program for [subject #1] lecturers would be set up by [City #1 School], the program for the [subject #2] lecturers would be set up by [City #2 School], etc.

My school happened to be responsible for setting up the program for my subject. We did some planning before the conference and decided that it would be a good idea to share experiences and resources and generally converse about how we went about doing our jobs. Our colleagues from the other cities thought so, too; we spent the day discussing all sorts of case studies and methods, generally learning a lot from each other.

During these talks, I realized the first reason why my branch is the best in the organization. We were discussing our methods when I showed one of my junior colleagues from another school some resources I had on my laptop. You know the sort of thing: PowerPoint presentations, written documents, spreadsheets, etc. She leaned in and studied my stuff eagerly, eventually muttering:

Colleague #1: “I don’t have anything like that.”

Me: “Well, they’re fairly easy to make, but the reason I have so much of this is that I’ve worked on it for five years.”

Colleague #1: “Well, I just started this fall, so I’ve only been working here for five months. It’s my first job, so…”

Me: “Do you want some of this?”

She looked at me, surprised.

Colleague #1: “Really?”

Me: “Uh… yeah? It’s not secret or anything.”

Colleague #1: “I can just… have it?”

Me: “Sure. What are you interested in?”

Colleague #1: “Well… all of it, but…”

Me: “Okay, I’ll set up a shared link for you. Hang on.”

I collected pretty much everything I had made for work over the past five years — PowerPoint presentations, syllabuses, and timetables; tests and evaluation criteria; collections of suitable literature complete with specific page numbers so they could easily be matched with subjects; lists of links to relevant web articles — a whole bunch of useful stuff.

Colleague #1: “Wow, this is great! This could save me a bunch of time. And it’s okay if I just reuse this?”

Me: “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Colleague #1: “It’s just that we’re not really used to sharing resources like this. I’ve found some stuff online, but…”

Me: “Hold up. Hang on… You don’t share your ideas with the other lecturers? Why not?”

Colleague #1: “Well, it… Huh. I guess it just never really occurred to us.”

I looked around the table at the other people who taught the same subject as me. They seemed equally perplexed.

Me: “Do none of you share resources? Plans, timetables, lecture presentations, notes…?”

Colleague #2: “Hm… Not really, no…”

Colleague #3: “I guess we do sometimes… but no, we mostly just build our own stuff from the bottom up.”

Me: “Well, feel free to use my stuff. You can make changes, too, if you need to. There’s no copyright on this.”

Colleague #1: “This is awesome!”

It turned out that our branch had developed a culture for sharing information and discussing things freely while the other institutions had much less interaction between their lecturers. To me, the free exchange of ideas has always felt like a very natural thing (especially given that we are, you know, a freakin’ school), and my managers encourage it. My coworkers and I borrow stuff from each other all the time. Apparently, this wasn’t common practice everywhere in the organization.

After the conference, we heard that the other branches also seemed to have a completely different idea of what this kind of conference was about. One subject group decided to spend the day watching a stand-up comedian they had hired. A different group spent most of their time chatting and lunching. For them, this was a social event. The whole day was just spent hanging around in a hotel, socializing. In fairness, the people who attended did say that it was very nice, but it wasn’t exactly useful to their actual jobs.

I hear things are a bit better at the other branches now, some ten years later, but the board of directors still considers my workplace the “cherry on the cake”.

While driving home, I get stuck waiting at the railway crossing near the station of my little hometown. The station is to my left, the train has just stopped there. From my right, over a grassland, two preteen boys are biking toward the crossing. I mostly notice them because I am a bit worried about them knowing to look out for the train. They do; they lie down on the grass just under the bank, probably to watch the train from below. They’re nearer than I’m really comfortable with but safe enough.

Once the train is gone, one of them runs up the bank and puts something on a rail. Then, he looks around and adds two rather large stones — about the width of the rail itself, as far as I can see from where I am sitting in the third car from crossing. Then, he grabs his bike and goes to join his friend standing near the crossing; they obviously want to cross both the railway and street.

Seeing these actions, I roll down my right window. With half a dozen cars in each direction, they won’t be able to cross the street before my car reaches them, so I will be able to tell them off.

Only… the first car stops at the crossing. I don’t hear what is said, but one of the boys runs back to the rail and swipes the stones off. The cars in front of me drive away.

Wait, but he left the first thing. It’s not a stone but something colourful; maybe it’s soft, but still, I’m not going to take any chances.

I stop by the boys and shout for them to get the last item, as well, while the first car from the opposite direction has also stopped and is honking. The boys go and get the third item, as well, and we all drive on.

Somebody got a triple dose of being raised by the village today. And I got my belief that I am living among decent people confirmed.

At one moment in my life, I was working for a big company and had the most obnoxious boss you can imagine.

One day, he called me and a mate to his desk, explained to us that “the President” had asked him for a (quite stupid) report on something, and specified that we shouldn’t tell anybody.

Of course, he was (A) unqualified to do that report himself, (B) the type of person who just bowed at any request from the President, and (C) the type of person who systematically presented your reports as if done by him.

Well, the thing is that my mate and I agreed to do it, but commented: “Hey… this is a 100% marketing issue. We can prepare the report, but surely Jane Doe, who after all is our marketing manager and very specialized in this type of thing, could help you better (… or, if you insist, help us). Did the President specify that you leave her out? Is this some type of ‘confidential’ thing?”

And, to our amazement, he said:

Boss: “Well, it is me who doesn’t want to involve Jane. The report is not especially confidential, but the thing is that I want a really good report… and you are both men, but Jane is a woman. So you’ll do it better.”

He really believed what he was saying. And this literally took place in a multinational company, at a very senior level, in Europe, in the twenty-first century. AND I want to specifically add that “Jane Doe” was/is not just good, but one of the best professionals I’ve ever worked with. But even if she weren’t…

A few years ago, I went into anaphylactic shock while eating prawns and was diagnosed with a sudden and serious shellfish allergy. Prior to this, I ate shellfish regularly. In fact, I’ve always been a real food lover and adventurous eater. I was very unfussy and would eat anything and loved trying new things, but seafood was always my absolute favourite and first choice on any menu for me. Since the allergy diagnosis, I’ve continued to eat — and love — fish but obviously not shellfish, and I am always keen to ensure there is no cross-contamination.  

My workplace provides a dinner for employees twice per year. These are usually at high-end, fine dining establishments which I’d never be able to afford ordinarily, so I look forward to these occasions and make the most of the experiences. More often than not, we are booked for tasting menus — around eight to ten courses of small plates, allowing us to try a variety of the chef’s specialties.

The person always in charge of booking the events, [Coworker #1], does not believe I have an allergy and constantly questions why it was okay for me to eat shellfish a few years ago but not now. She refuses to believe this happened suddenly and tells me, and others, that I am attention-seeking. It’s important to note that she also has a longstanding allergy (nuts) and thinks I am jealous of the attention she gets. I’ve tried to ask her why I would deliberately cut myself off from trying delicious food, but she has no answer. It’s also important to note that she doesn’t have much interest in food or restaurants and is a very safe eater, which is fine — no judgment from me — but also makes it difficult when she is in charge of booking the meals and often doesn’t understand the menus.

[Coworker #2] doesn’t like eating fish or seafood in any form. Again, that’s not a problem, but at one meal, I was disappointed to find that I was seated next to this coworker and a “non-fish” meal had been ordered for both of us. I spoke to the server about the fact that I could eat fish and could see that there were delicious dishes coming to other members of our party which I wasn’t being given, but they had obviously prepared according to the information given by [Coworker #1], and there was nothing they could do. They were, however, quite concerned and angry that [Coworker #1] had not mentioned there was an allergy, only a dislike, so they needed to take extra precautions about cross-contamination. Obviously, I was very grateful to them for taking this on board at the last minute.

The next dinner booked was at a particular restaurant that is part of a distillery and famed for its smoked salmon, caught fresh from the river right behind the restaurant and smoked on the premises using chips from their own whisky barrels. The flavour is said to be out of this world, and I had wanted to try it for years but couldn’t afford to eat there.

I was beside myself with excitement when the company announced this location and determined that I wasn’t going to be given a no-fish meal, so when [Coworker #1] asked for confirmation of attendance and dietary requirements, I reminded her of my allergy but made clear that it was shellfish and crustacean only and I could eat fish. She said it would be easier if she put me with [Coworker #2] again and arranged the same menu for both of us. I stood my ground and said no to that.

After a long argument, I thought she had understood the issue. Then, this happened at the meal.

Server: “Welcome to [Restaurant]. Allow me to confirm that we have [number] vegetarian meals, one nut allergy, and two fish-free menus.”

Coworker #1: “Yes. That’s right.”

Me: “No, actually, that’s not right. There should be one fish-free meal and one shellfish allergy. I was really looking forward to trying your famous salmon.”

Coworker #1: *Rolling her eyes* “Oh, God, here we go with this nonsense. [My Name], can you please be quiet and stop faking an allergy that doesn’t exist?”

Server: “Okay, let me clarify. This is a genuine shellfish allergy, so we need to be careful about preparing your food in a separate part of the kitchen, but you can eat all other dishes including fish?”

Coworker #2: “Oh, you really don’t need to go to that bother; you don’t need a separate cooking area, just as long as there’s no fish on my plate.”

Coworker #1: “See! [My Name], it’s fine. Stop causing problems.”

Me: “Actually, [Coworker #2], he was talking to me, and yes, I do need my food prepared separately.” *Holds up my EpiPen* “It is a genuine allergy. I appreciate that you don’t like fish, but these are two separate issues.”

Coworker #1: “That looks like a fake EpiPen. I have a genuine one, and you’re just trying to get attention. It’s not possible to be allergic to one kind of fish and not another. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous and you’re obviously lying.”

Server: “Hold on everyone. Yes, it is possible to be allergic to shellfish and not fish. In fact, my sister has the same allergy, and I’m happy to say she has eaten — and loves — our specialty salmon here at [Restaurant].” *To me* “You’re in luck; we always have reserves of salmon, so we can ensure you have that dish along with everyone else, but there is also a seabass dish which I’m afraid we cannot give you as there are no reserves and—” *with a hard stare at [Coworker #1]* “—your requirements were communicated incorrectly. There is also a crab dish for which we had already arranged a substitute and a second salmon dish which also includes prawns, and we can work around that for you. We’ll also ensure that all your food is prepared separately.”

I’m happy to say that the food was delicious. I gave that server an extra tip, and I emailed the restaurant later to praise his service and handling of the situation.

[Coworker #1] still isn’t talking to me.

I was an IT contractor for a major European defence contractor many many years ago — think room-sized mainframes, eighty-column punch cards, and green bar fanfold listings.

One week, after being vetted by the local security service, I was working late at night in the building where IT was housed. The vending machine in our building was out of order, and I was feeling peckish, so I went to look for a vending machine in another building where people worked on radar, radios, sonar, jammers, etc. — so, loads and loads of very expensive electronic gear.

I was amused and amazed by the idea that I was wandering around in a building, where I didn’t work and had no real business being in, at 02:00, yet nobody challenged me.

Every six months or so we had these briefings, complete with Super 8mm movies, by the local security service where we were told to clean out our desks at the end of the day, to lock our filing cabinets before leaving, and to be aware of friendly strangers with certain accents trying to strike up a conversation. Obsolete listings were to be shredded — the same listings we noticed our end users were recycling as scratch paper.

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