A few years ago in college, I was taking a history class. Like any class, we took many notes during lectures and were expected to review the material frequently. There was one girl, Jill, who often cut class. I will spare you the gratuitous details, suffice to say that we had worked together on a project and I learned she was very flighty and a bit self absorbed. Not altogether a bad person though.
Towards midterm, she complained to the teacher during class that she wouldn’t be able to do well on tests without the classnotes. The teacher cocked an eyebrow and pointed out that she should borrow the notes. Common sense, right? Her immediate friends didn’t volunteer, so after class I went up to her and offered my notebook to borrow until the next class.
I gave her my spiral bound notebook, and started to turn to gather my affects. I then heart a heart-breaking ripping. I whirled around as she had started tearing the notes out of the *spiral-bound* notebook. I managed to stop her before she had severed a week of notes thoroughly from the binding.
Jill eyed me balefully and whined, “Why can’t I just take the ones that I need?”
“No, it’s in a notebook. All the information is all together. In chronological order. If you take out chunks, then it isn’t organized for me,” I couldn’t believe that I needed to explain this, but hey, college is an institute of learning. I then had flights of fantasy about plucking my poor wounded tome out of her hands and making a break for the door. However, I felt a bit obligated to let her borrow them as I had well, offered to let her borrow them. I also figured that most damage had been avoided. I continued, “Take the whole thing, then copy the sections that you need and get it to me next week.” Yeesh.
Jill grumbled uncharitably about the extra weight, but accepted the notebook. No further incidents, I got back my notes the following week. I guess she just wasn’t empathetic enough to think that people don’t look fondly upon having their property torn up for her usage. 0730-10