Years ago my wife went to a newly established podiatrist for a problem. He gave her a rather tacky ashtray shaped like a footprint as a thank you gift for her patronage. When a friend poured a new concrete floor in his garage, as a joke for future “archaeologists” to find, we put the foot ashtray under the foundation. Later that day the friend said “I wonder what kind of ashtrays newly minted gynecologists give out?”
When I was in primary school in the U. S. during WWII the average class size was 35. There were no male teachers , and all the female teachers were middle aged and single except one who was older and married.
I was impressed that our drill instructor stayed in there with us the entire time. It just didn’t seem to bother him at all which was what kept me from panicking.
Put a Phil Rizzuto “Holy cow” bobble head in there.