At school I took up cello to please my very musical father.
After a number of weeks I knew it was not for me and after a heart to heart with mum, she told me that that was OK; I had tried; just to go and tell the music teacher what I had told her and it would be alright and dad would understand. Of course, dad did understand and that is irrelevant.
On the way to school that morning I managed to break a string on the cello.
My speech to the teacher was something like "oh, sir, err, well, i am really sorry but err, well it's kind of like I wanna, well, I wanna like give, err... oh and I broke a string on your cello and I want to quit". He (the teacher) said not to worry about it and he would buy a new string but in that moment I realised he thought I had quit because mum could not afford to replace it.
I think I learned politics that day.