So it turns out that almost all the stories I remember by association. This is no exception. The “discussors” in the forum pushed...

Once I stood with a friend in a row for coffee in the institute buffet. It was 18-19. Boltali "for life" - a seminar on sopromat, a course on a sketch, a harsh post on the "History of the CPSU", a march on two yachts across the bay in the coming weekends as a "closure of the season", a rock concert of some kind, I don't remember exactly, and so on... The buffetchica for some reason was wicked and cheated on everyone in a row. It is my turn:
A small double, please.
The buffet began to make coffee. Then I literally threw it on the shelf. I say as kindly as possible:
thank you! Can I surrender?
Something burst under the nose and again boiling, counted and sprinkled the delivery. Rather reflectively, and also in order to calm her somehow, I say in an even more benevolent and even a bit pleasant tone:
and thanks. Where are your sweets and sweets? The salads, the spoonful and the sugar were really needed, not for the stems of anyone.

What started here! The cry, or, the roar. There is no specificity of what I blamed her for. I stand, smiling a little, and, interested, waiting for the developments. Studying people is the most interesting thing for me.

Here, a friend-one-student, waiting for this red madam to take a break to breathe, inserts a phrase, stealingly asks her. Study and Happiness:
Giving the knives?
...???... - The buffetchica was overwhelmed by surprise and surprise. Then I asked – Why?? to
You are his knife, his knife! I mean, you have to talk courteously!
Here is the line and the bed.