Sometimes I run a study group in the library for an intro to literature class that I took a few years ago. I did really well and really enjoyed it, so I figured I’d help out with running the group. Today, this new participant comes up to me and asks me if I know what this professor expects in the paper he has due soon. I try not to let anything distract me while I’m setting up, so I told him that if he waited ten minutes, the group would be starting and before I could even explain that I would help him then, he cut me off to make a comment about how he should know pretty girls aren’t that smart by now, and how he’d just wait for the grad student who was running the session to help him and stormed off.
His face was pretty priceless when he realized that I was in fact the grad student, and even more so when he found out that I gave the teacher reports each week of how the study session goes. Thanks for calling me pretty, I guess? Even though you decided I couldn’t be smart because of it.