Me: Good morning, this is me, how can I help you?
Him: Hello, I was just wondering about motor insurance?
Me: Sure, I can give you a price on that. Where's the car normally kept overnight?
Him: Shitville.

I'm sure you're aware that this isn't an actual Australian suburb, but I thought I'd tell you, just in case.

Me: Oh, Shitville, hey?
Him: Yeah, not sure of the postcode.
Me: That's ok - I should know it, really, since I went to high school there and all.

A moment passes.

Him: You went to Shitville High?
Me: Yeah, for a while. I left there eventually and continued my education elsewhere.
Him: Smart move?

So this guy obviously knows what Shitville is like.

Me: Yeah, it wasn't the most productive learning environment. Just about the only thing I learnt there was how to type.

A longer moment passes.

Me: Good old Shitville.

An even longer moment passes.

Him: I used to teach at Shitville High.

Shitarsewankbollockscrapknobbastardshit.

Me: Oh.
Him: I've moved on from there now.
Me: Oh, where you are now must be much better.

The longest moment in the history of the universe passes.

Him: I enjoyed the work I did there. I put in a lot of effort.
Me: Oh. Yes. Right.
Him: I used to teach instrumental music there.
Me: I took saxophone lessons for a year or two.
Him: Really.
Me: Yeah. Um. So. Insurance?
Him: Yes. Insurance.

Shit. Arse. Shit arse shit arse shit.

Is it more embarrassing to discover you've been heavily criticising your old high school to a former teacher, or to admit publicly that you took saxophone lessons in high school?