One day in my third year of English literature in faculty, I was passing near a half-open classroom door when I saw a girl crying inside. I stopped walking and decided to enter and see what I can do to help her. I went to her, sat next to her, patted her on the arm and asked her what was wrong. She told me that she had a difficulty in understanding grammar and that she hesitated over accepting a temporary job offer as an oil worker because her brother was paternalistic. I told her that we can meet at 04.00 p.m. when she finishes her courses so that I help her studying. Then I suggested that she tries to explain to her brother her point of view calmly and resolutely about her decision to work and give him time to see her point. She thanked me for being there and we became friends ever since.