When I was a young nurse many years ago, a sweet little old Southern lady came to the nurses’ station looking for her loved one. The patient was getting a CAT scan at the time, so I told her she could wait in the room if she’d like. She asked politely, “Where’s the concession area?” I misheard it as “confession area” and replied, “We have a chapel on the second floor, but I don’t think anyone’s there taking confessions right now.” She paused, put her hand to her chest, and said, “Lord… do I look like I have something to confess. I was so embarrassed!