I work in a small PR Agency that handles international clients. We have an office manager, but booking travel is handled by the teams themselves. I am very junior and have been tasked to book a flight to the US for my boss on relatively short notice, about ten days in advance.

Client: “Please book a flight for your boss to DC for our meeting.”

Me: “Are you sure you want me to do it? If we book it, you’ll have to pay our service as per the contract, but if you book it yourself, it’ll be cheaper. I give you all my boss’s data, no problem.”

Client: “You book it.”

Me: “No problem.”

I book the flight, my boss flies to DC, and attends the meeting.

At the end of the month, we send our invoice, and we get a call:

Client: “Why do I have to pay several hundred Euros on top of an already very expensive flight?!”

Me: “That’s the reason I suggested you book the flight for my boss.”

Client: “Is there anything you can do about it?”

Me: “I’ll check with the owner, but I have my doubts. Let me get back to you.”

The owner didn’t waive the fee, and the client asked in a civilized manner, so no harm done, but read your contracts and don’t outsource services that you can easily do yourself!

I was a horticulture student on a botanical tour of Europe in 1979. I was at a flower market in Munich and saw a plant I didn’t recognize. The lady working at the booth didn’t speak English; I didn’t know any German.

I saw a plant I did know, so I touched the leaf and said the Latin name for it. She nodded and smiled. I named another plant I knew. Her smile got bigger.

I pointed at the unknown plant and looked at her with an expression that I hope said, “Your turn.” She told me the Latin name.

We didn’t speak each other’s languages, but we could communicate in a language that has been dead for over a thousand years. Cool.

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I’m traveling without my parents for the first time. I’m in the Munich train station trying to get to Berlin. I have a train booked and am waiting at the platform. I hear an announcement in German (I only speak English) but don’t think anything of it.

Five minutes after my train was meant to arrive, I start to get suspicious, so I check out the live platform information TVs and find that my train has been moved to another platform and has since departed. I am tired and near tears as I don’t know what to do!

I find my way to the information desk where several other tourists and I are shunted from person to person. The first window we line up at is closing as the operator is due for a break, so he sends us to another window, but they can’t help at all with any inquiries at the time so they send us back to the original window. After quite a few minutes of confusion, we’re finally sent to a window that can help us.

When it’s my turn, I’m still holding back tears and barely manage to explain to the lady what has happened without breaking down. She must deal with hundreds of tourists in her country who don’t speak her language, but she speaks perfect English.

She takes so much pity on me and gives me a ticket for a new train, free of charge, even with the first-class seat I paid for originally! She then very kindly points out the platform I am meant to wait at and tells me when the train will be coming and what carriage I will be in. I am in Berlin only a few hours later than expected thanks to her kindness!

During autumn, head lice spread easily between kids at school when they start to use bonnets. Therefore, their parents receive a letter informing them about the problem and telling them that it is strictly forbidden for kids with head lice infestations to come to school.

One teacher notices that a kid in sixth grade was infested. The kid is sent to the sick room and the secretary phones his mother.

Secretary: “Hello, this is [Secretary] from [School]. I am sorry to tell you that your kid has head lice and you must fetch him immediately.”

Mother: “I know, but I can not come. I sent him to you so I can disinfect my home. You will have to wait until I am finished!”

This mother didn’t come to school to take her kid for more than two hours. The headteacher tried to give her a telling off, but there was no sign of guilt from the mother.

(I’m stopping my bicycle at a red light. This is the lawful procedure here, of course, though I’m aware that many cyclists think it somehow doesn’t apply to them. Another cyclist stops next to me; it’s nice to see someone do it right. It looks like a student on her way home from uni. Then, a third cyclist wobbles around us, through the red light, and across the intersection. Luckily, the crossing traffic is also slow and it’s only a bit awkward when a car has to stop because of this, not really dangerous.)

Girl: *on the bike next to me* “Oh, look, that’s my law professor!”