I have a love/hate relationship with literature.
I graduated (or more correctly, was stamped and processed out) with a bachelor’s degree in English from the University of Minnesota. In short, that meant — in America — I was unemployable and bound to be a pain in the butt for anyone whose grammar was not up to snuff. Having an English degree is like being a priest in bar except people don’t watch what they say, but how they say it. This usually ends up in an embarrassing exchange resulting in the misuse of the word “whom.”*