My mom has a border collie. She’s had her since she was three weeks old. Since [Border Collie] was young, she has loved to play fetch. However, she has a tendency to jump on you to try to get the ball. My mother and I have come up with a way to combat this. We make [Border Collie] sit and stay until she hears the word “go.” If she moves at all before hearing go, we won’t throw the ball.

Whenever we have guests over, I explain the rules. 

Me: “Now, remember, don’t throw the ball if she moves before you say, ‘Go.’ She will try to test boundaries, but if you are firm the first couple of times, she’ll stop.”

Without fail, people start complaining that she is jumping on them when they are trying to play.

Me: “Did you let her move before you said, ‘go’?”

Them: “Yeah, it seemed like too much of a hassle.”

Me: “That’s why she’s jumping on you. You taught her that you will let her break the rules.”

Them: “I don’t think that’s it.”

And yet, anyone who followed the rules never had a problem with her jumping. Imagine that.

This story is part of our Border Collie roundup!

Read the next Border Collie roundup story!

Read the Border Collie roundup!

I’m an American working as an English teacher in China. I’m a somewhat small man of only 5’5″ and 155 pounds… Wow, that’s a lot of fives. Anyway, I am a tiny, tiny man and one of my coworkers is a very large Romanian man who is a big fitness buff. He is strong enough to lift me up with one arm without any difficulty.

I decide to joke around with him in the office one day. I put my left elbow down on the desk.

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], let’s arm wrestle.”

He looks at my poised left arm.

Coworker: “I’m not left-handed.”

Me: “Oh, good! Then I have the advantage!”

My friend is throwing a Christmas party. We get together every year, but this year, there are some new significant others, so I am nervous trying to make conversation. The “kids” — aka twenty-somethings — their SOs, and I are gathered in one room with half of the appetizers. My sister is talking about the spread.

Sister: “It’s a good thing I didn’t eat today. I’m eating a lot now.”

Friend #1: “Well, at least this is healthier. Look at all the vegetables and fruit.”

Sister: “Yeah, but do you see my plate? I have rolls, meatballs, and lots of cheese. Oh, and a carrot stick for good measure.”

Friend #2: “Could be worse. You could have gone to [Fast Food Place] and had a burger or something.”

Sister: “Exactly! Thanks, that makes it seem better.”

Me: “Well, if you think about it, you’ve had two or three rolls, at least six meatballs, and a lot of cheese, so it’s kind of like having two or three cheeseburgers.”

Friends: “…”

Sister: “All right, who invited her?”

For the record, I still don’t know if I’m the good or the bad guy in this story. While I’m proud of myself for finally speaking my mind, I recognize that my actions were incredibly unprofessional.

Some background is required. Several years ago, I was part of a group of friends who met at [Person #1]’s house to play board games once a week. After several months with this group, I was let in on the Big Secret: [Person #1] was cheating on his wife with [Person #2]. I was let in on this secret in order for [Person #1] and [Person #2] to be able to act like a couple in front of the group of friends away from [Person #1]’s wife and discuss their relationship without having to hide the affair around the group.

The expectation was that I would keep the Big Secret. I was incredibly uncomfortable with this arrangement; I hadn’t asked for the information and did not want it. I think affairs are horrible and I felt terrible for [Person #1]’s wife. Things went sour shortly afterward, and I ended up leaving the group feeling extremely bitter. I should point out, however, that I never gave up the Big Secret.

Fast forward to this year. I work for an internationally-known gaming convention at the front desk, and this year I am taking time cards as the convention comes to a close. With this convention, employees go by pseudonyms instead of our real names. Someone I vaguely recognize hands me their time card. He looks at me and as I start to realize who it is, he says, “Do you remember me?” Just as I figure out who he is, he says, “You used to come over to my house to play board games.”

Yes, it is [Person #1]. I reply with, “And you’re cheating on your wife.” It just flies out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. He grows cold, says, “Yes, I am,” and walks off.

I’ve already handed the time card to my immediate supervisor, so I ask her to rifle through the cards. She pulls one out and reads his real name, and I start cursing. I start imagining all the different kinds of trouble I’m going to get in for being so rude to a coworker. I explain everything to my supervisor, and she advises me to walk around the expo hall for the next hour to calm down. I do as she recommends, and when I come back, I talk to the manager of all of the convention employees.

I explain to the manager my shared history with [Person #1], and before I can finish telling her what happened an hour earlier, she starts laughing! She says she finds the whole thing hilarious and that she would have done the exact same thing I did. [Person #1]’s behavior is disgusting and I have nothing to worry about. What a relief!

I go back to work with a huge weight off my shoulders. Because I went right to the top, I’m safe if [Person #1] complains to his immediate supervisor. And hey, I finally got to speak my mind!

I’m going to a moderately famous school, miles away from my hometown. My first couple of weeks are rough, as I don’t know anyone, but my roommate ends up inviting me to have lunch with a couple of her friends in one of the eating halls.

[Friend #1] is eating a fairly bland apple pie that was being offered pretty cheap. She makes an extremely exaggerated moan as she does so.

Friend #1: “Oh! It’s better than sex!”

Friend #2: “You’re ace. Scratching your armpit is better than sex for you.”

[Friend #1] just took an exaggeratedly big bite of the pie in response. They are now some of my best friends, and this is a prime example of the kind of relationship we all have.