(I tutor English as a Second Language students at their homes. I assign homework to students each week. My students are usually quite young, so very often my homework is left undone for various reasons. I’m usually quite understanding if they have a good reason. This particular student has been neglecting most of her work because she was busy playing. I’m talking to her before I leave her house.)

Me: “[Student], can you try to finish some of your homework? It’s quite the waste of your parents’ money right now to just attend an hour of lessons per week without doing the assigned work.”

Student: “But I’m going on holiday next week! I’m going to [Overseas Country]!”

Me: “That sounds fun. But the homework that I’m talking about is the one the one from around three weeks ago.”

Student: *clearly not listening* “Maybe I’ll buy you a gift from [Overseas Country]!”

Me: “How about this? Instead of buying me a present, you bring me the gift of your completed homework!”

Student: “Ha ha, no.” *bounces away*

(I live in the outlying islands of Hong Kong. Not to brag, but I make a cracking veggie sausage roll. Friends both veggie and carnivorous rave about them and I am always happy to give out the recipe. One weekend we are invited to a barbecue at a friend’s place, so I make a batch to take along — barbecues can be fairly miserable for vegetarians. I pop them on the table of snacks and grab myself a drink. Presently I am introduced to a young woman who has recently moved to the island. The following ensues:)

Young Woman: “These sausage rolls are delicious! It’s so nice to have proper veggie food at a barbecue!”

Me: “Aw, thank you! I absolutely agree; my husband and I are both veg and we love them, too.”

Young Woman: “You must give me the recipe!”

Me: “Oh, hang on.”

(I am about to tell her what goes into the rolls but my attention is diverted to my overly-helpful two-year-old trying to carry three plates at once. I bend down to take them off her and gently tell her just to take one since they’re heavy. Straightening back up, I am greeted with…)

Young Woman: “WELL, FINE! I suppose it’s one of these bloody secret family recipes is it?”

Me: “No, no, it’s—“

Young Woman: “I can’t stand people like you. You all think you’re so clever and above all of us, and you don’t even have the decency to share a little love!”

Me: “No, no, really! It’s—“

Young Woman: “SHARE A LITTLE LOVE!” *flounces out*

Friend: “It’s not a secret recipe, is it? You gave me the recipe after Christmas.”

Me: “You know me; I’m all about sharing the love!”

(I am in Hong Kong. I enter an elevator that is descending. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze at first, so I accidentally bump into the other occupants who are already in there. Everyone involved in this story appears to be East Asian, myself included.)

Me: “Whoops. Sorry, everyone! My apologies.”

(We go down a few floors and several people exit. The only people remaining in the elevator are an old man and me. We go down one more floor, and standing in front is a young man who is hesitant to enter.)

Me: “What seems to be the matter, friend? Come on in; there’s plenty of room.”

(The young man is standing still, and not moving an inch.)

Me: “Are you going up, or going down?”

Young Man: “Up!”

Me: “Well, okay, looks like you might want to try the other elevator. This one’s going down for at least several more floors, so it’ll be a while before it starts going back up again. Have a good one, then.”

(The young man stops acknowledging me and just waits for the door to close. While we’re going down again, the old man standing next to me finally decides to talk to me.)

Old Man: “Where are you from, son?”

Me: “Me? I’m from Canada, sir.”

Old Man: “That explains it! Your English and your manners are both exceptionally good! I knew there was no way you could be one of the local kids!”

(Rather unfortunate that he has such a view of his own country’s youth, but hey, he said it, not me.)

(My cousin who’s working in China calls me.)

Cousin: “Hey, cuz, my debit card doesn’t work in China. Could you please buy me a ticket to fly back from Hong Kong to Singapore and I’ll pay you back later?”

Me: “Sure, just give me your passport number.”

(Since everybody calls him by his English name, I buy a ticket for Jon [Surname] without thinking about it. On the day of his flight, I get a frantic call from the Hong Kong airport.)

Cousin: “I’m having a problem checking in. My ticket says Jon [Surname].”

Me: “So?”

Cousin: “My passport says [Surname] [Chinese name].”

Me: “Dude, how was I supposed to know Jon isn’t your legal name? I didn’t even know your Chinese name!”

(Fortunately, he managed to convince the airline staff that he was the same person, and at least the passport number matched.)

(My partner and I are both school teachers with a long commute. On weekend mornings we get up early for training, so a lie-in is a rare treat for us. This happens on our first Sunday lie-in in a long time. I am absolutely useless as a human being until my first cup of coffee in the morning. My partner lightly nudges me awake.)

Partner: “Hey, sweetheart.”

Me: “Mrrrphrrr.”

Partner: “It’s Sunday.”

Me: “Yay.”

Partner: “What shall we do?”

Me: “Mrrrphrrbrdrrr.”

Partner: “We could go to church? Or a healthy jog?”

Me: “Sure, sure, that sounds nice.”

Partner: “The only problem is you’re Jewish and you hate running.”

Me: “Oh, yeah.”

Partner: “Shall we go back to sleep, sweetheart?”

Me: “Mmmmkay, if you want.”

(He got a good laugh out of that one!)