The question we faced was: how to sell the maximum number of cakes and raise the most money in under an hour? Since the cakes, already prepared, had cost only a few euros, profitability wasn't the concern. The challenge was in setting the price.

After a few minutes of contemplation, we decided NOT to set a fixed price. Indeed, our reasoning was that with the charitable nature of our sale, we'd make more profit by letting each customer decide their own price, potentially including a donation.

The idea was an outstanding success. 20, and even 50 euro notes filled our small cash box. 50 euros for a slice, 40 euros for two. Mission accomplished.

It would have been unthinkable to offer a slice for more than 5 euros. Yet, that ended up being the spontaneous MINIMUM price the "market" set.

Well, almost...

A classmate, the son of my English teacher, was surprised to learn about our pricing approach. With a sly smile, he offered us 0.01 euro - a cent, the smallest amount imaginable. We had to accept, albeit rolling our eyes. Even though he brought down our average earnings, I remain convinced that we had chosen the best pricing strategy. And we made one more person happy...

Agathe Laurent Richard

I was 12 years old, and my best friend still called me on the landline to make plans to meet somewhere downtown to play together, rent a DVD, or hang out at someone else's place.

One day she suggested I fill in for a friend at the mass daycare. All I had to do was play with a few toddlers in a small room at the back right of the nave, with games and coloring pages (Christian-themed, of course).

I thought it was a good idea, so I showed up one Sunday morning, and it was indeed fun and easy.

Still, there was a slight emotional moment when returning the noisy kids, searching the eyes of the now blessed parents for the rest of the week, looking for a sign of approval for a job well done. Because we handed them back alive and it seemed crazy to me to leave kids with other kids who didn't know what they were doing for an hour.

The good news came that the priest would pay us. 10 bucks an hour. I was thrilled; I had just found out. I followed my friend up some old spiral stairs and reached the priest's office, which was exactly how you'd imagine it for a small parish, kind of a plain library. The priest was also just as you'd imagine a typical priest to be. Graying hair, bald spot, a bit chubby in a white robe with golden threads. He handed each of us an envelope, and I must admit I prayed all the way home that there would really be 10 euros inside.

There was. A 10-euro bill. Huge. (This was a very long time ago!)

It's clear that I returned several times, as long as I could replace my friend's friend who, clearly, didn't like easy money.

I don't remember what I did with all that cash. What I do remember is that everything stopped when the time for confirmation preparation came. My friend, not being baptized, had to "make up for lost time" and dedicate her hours to reading the sacred texts. And I lost my gig.

Agathe Laurent Richard