Sheldon Secretary: Just because you said you had cooties and I was sympathetic because my aunt had them too doesn't mean I am now your medical confidant. It's fine to tell me how you're doing. I ask, however, that you remember the initials after my name are PhD, not MD. I don't need your entire medical history and all the sordid details of your last eight doctor visits. When I left the office, I couldn't believe you followed me down the hall and into the elevator! Thank goodness you didn't have a key to my car. I honestly think you would have come home with me if you could have.
Post-Partum Patty: You've given birth in the middle of the semester. Congratulations on your new arrival! Of course I will give you an extension on the assignment. The play-by-play on your episiotomy and subsequent infection was way, way TMI. I will not be preserving your email for posterity. I guess I should count myself lucky you didn't send pictures.
Adulterous Associate Professor: We've been great colleagues for many years. I consider your wife to be a friend as much as I do you. Confiding in me that a) you have a hottie in your class, b) said hottie has been hitting on you, c) your wife isn't putting out like she used to, and d) you're actually thinking of taking up hottie on her offer after the semester is over "so it will be more ethical" has given me a giant case of the squicks. How many times have we talked about a couple of colleagues who have pulled this crap? Do you honestly think you're better than they are just because you won't do it in exchange for a grade? And how do I look your wife in the eye next time we all meet for coffee?
After a week of revelations like these, I wish I could just sneak into the building, teach my class, and sneak out to the bar. Or maybe I could just skip the first two steps.