This is a story that my father is always fond of repeating, describing events that happened when he was a teen.

Living in Norway, especially back in the day, the winters are long, cold, and of course, filled with snow. This means that most schools and other clubs, activities, etc., that deal with kids and teens have very strict rules about what one is allowed to do or not do when it comes to said snow. Especially when it comes to snowballs, those rules tend to be very strict. There’s always a lot of gravel and such used to fight the buildup of ice, which can potentially make the snowballs quite dangerous projectiles, so the rules make sense. To some extent, at least.

My dad had become intimately familiar with those rules, as he had been caught red-handed throwing snowballs on several occasions. This caused him to receive an ultimatum: “No more breaking the rules, or you will be suspended!” To make sure that he knew what the rules were, he was told to study them carefully.

One summer in mid-June, there was a MASSIVE hailstorm — so big, in fact, that by the time it was over, the landscape looked like it was winter with piles of sloppy, icy snow everywhere. Going outside, the adults made sure to remind the kids about the snow rules. They made a point to stop my father at the door.

Teachers: “You know the rules. We will keep an eye on you and expect you to follow them to the letter!“

Cue malicious compliance.

You see, the rules were VERY specific. They specifically stated what you were and weren’t allowed to do with snow. In the winter.

Every single rule started with, “In the winter, you are not allowed to…”

As my father had been forced to study the rules extensively, he knew perfectly well what the rules stated, and he went outside, gathered up a piece of snow, and hurled it at one of his friends. This, of course, sparked a massive snowball fight, after which he was led up to the principal’s office.

Principal: “I assume you know why you’re here?”

Father: “Not really, no. I don’t see how I did anything wrong.”

Principal: “I thought we made it very clear what would happen if you broke the rules one more time.”

The principal pulled out the book of rules and flipped to a page.

Principal: “Mind reading to me this rule?” *Pointing to the rule about snowballs*

Father: “‘During the winter, you are not allowed to throw snowballs… [a whole bunch of text specifying what you were not allowed to throw at, where you were not allowed to throw, etc.]'”

Principal: “So, now that you’ve had a refresher, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Father: “What time of year is it?”

Principal: “…”

My father got off without any further argument, even getting a commendation from his teacher for his “clever way to think outside of the box”. The rules were changed to be a lot less specific about the time of year a few weeks later, though it wasn’t very likely to ever happen again, as hailstorms during the summer are a very rare occurrence in this part of the country.

I was working at the Norwegian equivalent of a Best Buy, back in 2007. A customer is interested in a laptop.

Customer: “Could you also help me with my internet access at my house? I only have the internet at work at the moment.”

Our store cooperates with a couple of providers, so I show him a comparison chart of the different plans and bandwidths. He looked at it for a while and asks:

Customer: “These prices, are they for full access?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “I only go to [two tabloid news sites]. There’s no way I’m paying for the whole internet!”

What really puzzled me is that he brought with him a printout of the computer he wanted from our website, so he must have had at least an idea of how the internet works.

Related:
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 8
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 7
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 6
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 5
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 4

I am the author of this story. In the Navy, you meet all sorts of people — some good, some bad. Some officers really get very high on power very quickly, while others have a more relaxed attitude. I experienced this during my first few weeks of basic training.

One day, our platoon was sitting in a waiting area in the officers’ training school (where they train to become officers), just waiting for our officer of the day to arrive. As we were sitting there, an ensign-in-training walked through the hall. As we’d been trained to, we stood up at attention when an officer entered the room and then sat back down as she left.

Ensign-in-training is the lowest rank above enlisted people in the Navy; it’s what they make you before giving you the lowest officer rank (ensign). It’s basically the same level as a sergeant. Still, an officer is an officer, so we did the “ten-hut” thing as we were trained to do.

A few minutes later, that same officer passed by again. We rose up again and did the same routine as last time. A bit later, she passed by a third time, and some of us were hesitating. She stopped and looked at us with a stern face until the last few had stood up, and then she left again.

As this happened yet again, we all remained seated, talking about the day’s assignment. A few seconds passed and then the ensign-in-training shouted, “Ten-hut!” We all got to our feet, and then she left again.

We were talking about this as a high-ranking officer walked by a few minutes later. We stood up quickly, and he commented that we were good recruits who reacted so fast. This officer seemed very nice and looked to be in his sixties; he had grey hair, a bit of a belly, and a relaxed demeanor, and he basically looked like your pleasant old grandpa. His uniform was immaculate, though, and showed the rank of commander, one of the highest we’d seen in our time at basic training.

It’s a long time ago, so I don’t remember exactly what was said, but one of us mentioned that we needed to stand up quickly, as the ensign-in-training who passed by every few minutes would shout at us otherwise. 

Commander: “Is that right? Well, that’s not really how it’s supposed to work, guys. You show respect by standing at attention the first time an officer enters, but you’re not supposed to jump to your feet every time that person walks by. Also, if you’re busy working on a task, you don’t have to interrupt your work in order to salute all the time. You’d never get any work done. If that ensign comes back, tell her that [Commander] wants a word in the office, okay?”

Us: “Yes, sir.”

Sure enough, a short while later, the ensign-in-training walked by again, demanding that we stand up. We did so, but then we also told her that [Commander] wanted to see her right away. She scurried off to the offices.

It turned out that the old officer who talked to us was the head of the officers’ training school, basically one of the three guys in charge of the whole camp. I would love to have been a fly on the wall during his conversation with the ensign-in-training.

I later heard that the same ensign-in-training had been demoted for sleeping on watch, so I guess she wasn’t really officer material anyway.

Related:
This Dude Had ONE JOB

I teach history at a senior high school. As a side job, I also used to teach evening school, giving lectures to either people who wanted to improve their original grade from school (taking the exams again) or older students who hadn’t studied this particular course and needed it in order to move on to higher levels of education.

The evening classes lasted from 17:00 to 21:00, with breaks set up about once an hour. During one of these lectures, I noticed that several of the students were drooping their heads, dead tired. Normally, my lectures are actually pretty good, so I felt like it probably wasn’t because I was boring them to death.

I hadn’t thought of it until then, but it occurred to me that most of these people had day jobs, working long hours from 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning. That’s why they were taking an evening class; they couldn’t study during the day because they were busy at their jobs. I’d been there.

Seeing as this course was held at the school where I worked every day, and we had kitchen supplies literally in the room next to us, I had an idea.

Me: “Does anybody want some coffee?”

All Students: “Oh, yes.” *Nodding eagerly*

I went to the next room and started up the brewer, filling two big Thermos jugs with pump handles. The students were most appreciative.

I decided to make this a regular thing. After all, these students did actually pay us good money for these courses, so I felt like the least we could do was get them some coffee. Every class, I would set up a couple of these Thermoses and some paper cups. Still, though, I felt like this could be improved upon, so I also got permission from the course organizer to buy some cookies. The students were even more appreciative.

After about a year of this, I heard that the courses had gotten a lot of good feedback. A lot of the students also noted that I was the only teacher who set up coffee for them, and they loved it, so they asked for something similar to be set up in all the different courses.

The organizers ended up having to employ a person to take care of it, setting up coffee, tea, and cookies for all the students to enjoy during breaks.

I don’t teach evenings anymore, but I hear that the coffee, tea, and cookies are still very much a thing. The students regularly give the organizers great feedback on the courses, and they also comment on how nice it is to be served refreshments. Apparently, we’re the only evening school in the area that does this, and some students choose our school because of it.

Now the only question is: how can I get the coffee strategy into ALL schools everywhere?

As part of getting my driver’s licence, there were several things I had to do for the compulsory course. In addition to a theory course lasting several weeks, there were several practical courses: driving at night, driving on a specialised track with obstacles, etc.

One of the courses involved driving in slippery winter conditions. As part of this course, my instructor had me drive on winter roads.

We were approaching a steep hill, and I noticed a big semi-truck in the distance just coming down the hill toward us. It was going very slowly, and I assumed that it was having trouble with the slippery conditions. Not sure what to do, I asked the instructor, who was reading his clipboard and didn’t seem to be paying close attention.

Me: “Should I stop here and wait?”

Instructor: “No, it’s fine.”

Me: “But the lorry…”

Instructor: “It’s fine. Keep going.”

I did as he said, and just as we approached the bottom of the hill, the lorry driver started feverishly flashing his lights at us. I stopped. The instructor looked up from his clipboard and noticed what was going on.

Instructor: “Okay, let’s back up.”

Me: “Yep.”

I quickly reversed the car and parked at a bus stop further back, giving the truck driver space to make it down the hill. Even if he were to lose control completely and come sailing down, he would have space to avoid us.

As the truck came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the driver came out and started shouting. My instructor went out to meet him, and I didn’t catch all that was said, but the truck driver was shouting stuff like, “You should know better!”

When my instructor eventually got back in the car with me, he just summarised:

Instructor: “Well, he was pretty angry.”

I could see why. The truck driver had been having problems going down that slippery hill, and our coming up toward him had just made things harder.

I eventually passed my driving test on the first try, and even though I’m not the least reckless driver in the world, I did learn one thing from this experience: if you think it’s a good idea to be careful, don’t listen to the one who says “it’s fine”. Use your own brain, too.