(We’re studying “The Great Gatsby” in English. It might not be explicitly stated, but everyone comes to the same conclusion about one of the character’s sexualities.)

Me: “[Teacher], is Nick Carraway supposed to be gay?”

Teacher: *shocked* “I don’t think so. What makes you ask?”

Me: “The way he’s always describing Gatsby’s beauty…”

Student #1: “And the way that Daisy’s supposed to be really hot, but his only comment about her is that she has a nice voice.”

Student #2: “And the way that he’s supposed to be attracted to Jordan, and he describes her and makes her sound really masculine.”

Me: “And why did he end up in a bedroom in New York with that guy in his underwear… Mr. McKee or something?

Teacher: “Well, it’ll be an interesting topic to think about for your final essay. Now, let’s get back on track.

(By chance, we hit another paragraph with Nick describing Gatsby during the lesson.)

Teacher: *reading out loud* “’There was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promise of life…’”

(The entire class begins to smile and raise our hands.)

Teacher: “Not a word. From any of you. Not one.”

([Coworker] calls me over to help with a customer who is trying get a refund.)

Coworker: “I’m not sure what to do. This lady doesn’t have a docket but wants to return these items. Can you help me do the return?”

Me: *taking a quick glance at the items, a couple of packets of curtains* “No, because these weren’t bought here.”

Customer: “Yes, they were; I bought them here.”

Me: “No, they weren’t, that one is [Competitor]’s own brand and I don’t recognise that other brand as one of ours. Anyway, you have to have a receipt to return items.”

Customer: “I bought them both here. How do you know I didn’t?”

Me: “Because that is [Competitor]’s brand and this one—” *turns packet over to see the word Target on the base* “—is from Target, not us.”

Customer: “Are you sure?”

Me: *pointing to the word* “It says so right here, Target.”

Customer: “I can’t get an exchange?”

Me: “No.”

Coworker: “I’m glad you know your stock; how did you know [Competitor]’s stock, too?”

Me: “I used to work there.”

(My main gripe would be that this coworker has worked with me for three years; we started at the same time. She’s never bothered to learn the names of our EXCLUSIVE brands.)

(I teach computers at a small school. I’m working with a grade 3/4 class on coding. A student puts up her hand for help and I come around. She’s on a level where you’re supposed to program a character to skate around on a frozen lake and trace snowflakes into the ice with their skates.)

Student: “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but it doesn’t look like the example. It just keeps drawing squares!”

(I notice that the student has forgotten one important element of code that makes the character jump back to their original position after moving around.)

Me: “Oh, see here, you need this new block of code. See how in the instructions they tell you what it does? I’m guessing you ignored it because you haven’t seen it before. I’ll show you how it works and then I’ll let you play around with it to make whatever design you want.”

(I drag the missing block of code randomly into the student’s work, just to show her how it changes it. To my horror, when I press run, the character now draws a perfect swastika into the ice!)

Student: *excitedly* “Oh, cool. That’s really pretty!”

Me: *flustered* “Uhh, well, you can move it around in the code and maybe add onto it to make a proper snowflake—”

Student: “No, I like it! It looks so cool! Thanks!”

(And that’s how I taught an eight-year-old girl how to draw a swastika. Not my proudest teaching moment.)

(I am in line behind another man who is holding a computer tower. He approaches the sales desk.)

Man: “My computer made a bang noise, stopped working, and then there was a bad burning smell. Is that a bad thing?”

(My father has always attended church on Sundays. He’s not overly religious but thinks once a week is enough. Mum joined a couple of church activities during the week. Then, after she retired, she took on some more, such as running the craft activities and being on the craft board, as well as ferrying older parishioners to and from the church.)

Dad: “Looks like the church has gotten their claws into you; you keep getting forced to take on more duties. You should be home just relaxing instead of all this running around.”

Mum: “But I like it; it keeps me active. Anyway, I volunteered; no one has forced me to do anything.”

Dad: “Well, you won’t see me there. I’ve worked enough in my life and am ready to put my feet up.”

(Dad retires and does just that. He happily putters around at home for six months. One day I call in to see him.)

Me: “Where’s Dad?”

Mum: “Oh, he’s cleaning the church.”

Me: “Cleaning the church? What did he say about the church getting their claws into you?”

Mum: *laughs* “Well, he had a check up at the doctor last week. Apparently putting his feet up doesn’t agree with him. The doctor told him he needs to be more active or he won’t be around much longer.”

(That was over ten years ago. He now is on the church board, helps Mum run the crafts, and still cleans the church, as well as other duties. He loves the activity, is healthier than ever, and has more friends than ever.)