Today I had my Genetics 302 final exam scheduled for today at 8 AM. I don’t particularly care for my professor because his Chinese accent is very thick and his English is awful, his notes and the book say two completely different things, so I don’t really know what he is testing over, and he has essentially called my stupid to my face. So you can imagine the feelings I have for this man.
I studied all week and weekend to take this final and to prove to him that I am not stupid and that you don’t mess with Texas. I get up early this morning, eat breakfast, and go take my test blaring Demon Speeding for obvious reasons.
I show up to the lecture hall and there’s another professor getting ready to give his final exam, his organic chemistry final exam. As you can imagine, there are several students that are in my class that almost crapped their pants from shock that they weren’t going to take their Genetics final and the fact that it could be in another room that we don’t know about.
So I lead this angry mob of about 10 pissed off genetics students to his office. He isn’t in his office nor his lab. Panic. Despair. Anguish. Rage. These are the feelings that I am feeling at the possibility that I missed my final.
This very small Chinese woman comes up to us and asks if she could help us. Seeing how I am like my father with my shoot-first-ask-questions-later mentality, I tell (more like yelled at) this girl that we have a final this morning, that the professor is not in the room, and that we need some answers right now or there is going to be someone here with a shirtless mug shot.
“I will go call him right now. I’ll hurry,” she said with a quiver in her voice.
She calls him and it turns out he wrote the day down wrong on his syllabus and forgot to tell everyone.
As I stood there feeling like a total ass, I apologized to that poor, little woman that I threatened and had a sigh of relief that I had another day to study.
Still hate my professor though.