"AHA!", says Bob's wife. "He's not a dentist, he's a toothpaste salesman!"
"Well that's what I meant", you protest.
She says, "NO! You don't know Bob, and he wasn't at your house, he was sleeping with Lisa! O.K., Bob, you've deceived me for the last time. I'm leaving you. I'm getting a divorce. The car is mine so I'm driving home in it."
Bob says, "But you can't do that! I'll be stranded here!"
His wife says, "I don't care!", and she storms out.
Bob is crestfallen. He continues with his musical act, singing a few sad songs, and when the set is finished, he says to you, "Thanks for helping me out back there. Even though it didn't work, I know you did your best and I'm very grateful."
You say, "Oh, that's all right. But your wife has taken the car -- how will we get to Ridgetown?"
He shrugs, "You could call a taxi."
"But I don't have any money!"
Bob says, "Well that's a shame. I'll tell you what, here's the money I made from today's gig -- I want you to have it. To show my gratitude for what you did back there."
He gives you a stack of notes from his pocket. You count the money and it turns out to exactly the same amount as the fees which you're trying to get a refund for from Ridgetown TAFE. So you decide to forget about Ridgetown and just go home. Fortunately the drummer lives near your home suburb and you get a lift with him.