Esk Old Donuts: My Bad Day

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Editor’s Note: This is a guest post from Jessie (Esk).  She had a bad day.

Background: I currently have a very badly sprained ankle from slipping on the ice 2 days ago. There is a lot of swelling and pain.

The day begins, well not really begins, because I’ve spent all night studying biochemistry for one of the impossibly hard quizzes we have each week. My “crib sheet”, for this 10 minute quiz, is 7 pages (not including 2 hand drawn flow charts) of size 10 font with margins generously expanded. I need to leave my apartment by 10am to be on time for the quiz.

I finish my notes and final read through by 9:15am. Good, I have plenty of time, after all I am already showered, my hair is dry, what could go wrong? I know, very subtle foreshadowing.

Just need to email myself the notes, print them out, and get dressed.

Internet stops working, can’t send notes.

Internet starts working, computer has forgotten what a word document is and does its own formatting like a drunk with newly acquired epilepsy.

Cell phone dies… no charge. But I only took you off the charger an hour ago!

Deodorant stick kamikazes out of the plastic case and flies across the room. It’s okay, with the shooting pain in my ankle that little journey only sets me back about 5 minutes.

Putting on a sock, it rips nearly in half. Shit, why is my sock drawer on the other side of the apartment?

I need to get to class!

Did the steps down from my apartment get longer and steeper?

Time passes, barely make it for quiz, but it’s okay, I got through the worst part of the day right?

Between classes I have time to get some forms filled out for a volunteer opportunity. I receive an email from one of my medical school recommenders – date sent Thursday (today is Monday).

Funny, I checked my email 75 times between Thursday and today. I don’t understand, did my email hop in a car cause it had to “go see about a girl” only to come back to me like a second choice prom date?

Background: I had emailed this teacher more than a week ago saying a polite version of:

You know the recommendation I asked you for (giving you explicated details with dates, deadlines & how to submit it) well it’s due Friday and I was just making sure you’re not going to screw me over at the last minute.

To which the Recommender responded:I have it written here that it’s not due until the 21st, am I mistaken?

Me: You’re right, I never should have worried, you got this, much thanks…

So back to today, my Recommender sent me an email the day before recommendation was due, received 3 days after rec was due. Jerk internet gods.

Her email: Hey you want to pick up the recommendation I wrote for you and turn it in yourself? I’ll just leave it here at my office, you come get it when you can.

Wait, can I do that? I sort of thought this was the one part of the application that someone else was suppose to turn in. Also, the 9 waivers I signed (this number is actually not exaggerated, 9 waivers for 4 recommendations) saying that I will not ask to look at, think about looking at, ask someone else to look at these recs… under threat of prosecution, forfeiting your first born, execution, and so on.

So you want me to come get this thing and then turn it in myself huh? That doesn’t sound right.

Well it’s 3 days past the deadline, shit, what do I do?

Email her! (starts writing email)

No, call her! (starts looking up her number)

No, get to her office NOW!

So I started running, well hobbling to her office….

Side note: Okay so earlier this morning I drove to school, running late, massive amount of pain, etc. Anyway, leaving the car my jacket gets caught on the crutches, crutches got caught on center console… I got pissed and left both the offending jacket and crutches in the car.

So when we left off I was hobbling across campus (did it drop 15 degrees? stupid jacket) on a very pissed off ankle to Recommender’s office; it may have been a mistake to go without the crutches.

Now, if you’d like to know what I looked like during this process just imagine Igor manically driven to get to Dr. Frankenstein, you know hunched and limping but incredibly motivated. Well, the combination of frustration and pain of my pathetically slow sprint (still on no sleep) resulted in a quiet but uninterrupted dialog (is it a dialog or a monolog if, in your head, you are talking to someone else?).

So imagine you saw a girl “sprinting” like Igor in adamant conversation with herself. Yup, that was me, like the schizophrenic meth addict that gets 3 whole seats to himself on the train during rush hour.

Got to Recommender’s office – she’s not there, fight panic attack. She comes around the corner and I jump out at her like I’m the murderer and she is the pretty, but brain dead, babysitter in a bad horror film.

Hey Jessie… It’s good to see you (liar)… here’s your recommendation, hope it isn’t late (fuck you).

Internal me: Nah, it’s only 3 days. What did they say about late stuff? Oh yah, “if your folder is not complete we don’t even review you… no letter to medical school…. shame… disapproval… you die poor and alone…”

Paraphrase actual me: “I am so sorry (why am I sorry?)… miscommunication (cause you can’t read)…thanks so much for this (I hate you). I’ll just run this over there (what the hell, the office is ON campus, you didn’t even need a stamp to send it in, not to mention online submission which I explained… multitude of expletives). I’ll let you know how it goes (thanks for not saying anything about that fact that I’m standing at a 45 degree angle clutching my leg in pain, cause now I’m going to “sprint” back across campus to my car so I can drive this to the place it should have been on Friday and tell them how I’m the asshole and just keep on using the word miscommunication!!!)

It’s okay folks, I walked in with the crutches (okay, my foot did hurt a hell of a lot more now but in those little hallways they were way more of a hassle than an asset but damn straight, I brought them for the hope of sympathy… or pity, at this point who gives a shit)… so I walked in with the crutches and took complete responsibility.

YAAAAYY for pity/sympathy/the buzz you got from your 3 beers during your “work” lunch YAAAAAY you’re still going to accept it!

Day is over right? No wait, remember, I was IN BETWEEN CLASSES when this whole crisis arose.

It’s okay, I have my car. Oh wait, it’s Monday between 1 and 2, is that a common time for people to be at class? Nah, I’m sure parking will be easy and once I park somewhere I can just run the extra 10 blocks. What say you ankle, with your various torn muscles? Feel like a jog? No?

Okay I’m going to save you the details because we all know parking is a bitch and I’m sure you have picked up on the fact I’m “moving with all the speed of a special Olympic hurdler.” So, got a spot, got to class, possible ankle healing set back and I probably deserve that handicapped parking spot anyway.

Go to class (polarity… induced EMF.. current… magnetic field…. change in flux through loop… you know).

I’m going home!!!! It is finally over! ….. Nope.

Pull into spot by my apartment. Hey, maybe I can fill out these forms for the Volunteer Group in my car then drop them off. That way I save the extra 20 min it takes to get out of car, around snow bank, up the porch, up the stairs and back again.

So gimpy is filling out forms in her car, looks up, hm…. people slowing down, they look confused… focus on forms… do I hear sirens? Back to forms, oh wait I need blah blah blah from apartment to fill out this part…

Opening car door, wait are those sirens on this street? That’s awkward, I have my bad foot sticking out at a 90 degree angle from the car and the dude trying to get out of the way of an ambulance is going to drive straight into me. Good thing I’m so agile at the moment. When I do finally get out of my car I realize there is a guy lying in the middle of the intersection not moving. When did I move back to Worcester?

What happened? Wait, was I sitting in my car when this guy got hurt? Did I witness a hit and run on no sleep, a hardy amount of Ibuprofen and diverted attention. Yes officer, I think I would make an excellent witness, put me on the stand.

Luckily no one came running up to ask me, as possibly the only witness (to a hit and run, heart attack, mugging/beating, dementia, narcolepsy, or what ever it was), what I had seen. The answer: Um… the signature page? Thanks for your keen observation skills, lady.

In fact, as I got out of my car one of the officers did notice me, but not to assess my witness potential. Instead he just looked up and gave me a very pitying smile and nod.

Wow, there is an unconscious man in the middle of an intersection, officials yelling out directions to each other and this dude is taking the time to feel bad for me… crutches aside, how pathetic of a face could I be making? And as they loaded the guy up into the ambulance I thought “Extremely, it must have been an EXTREMELY pathetic face.”

And just as some fun little cappers to this glorious day:

Another recommender, that I had planned with 6 weeks ago to meet with this week (different deadline, all very confusing and stupid) sent me an email: I’m booked this week, can you come in during spring break?

Oh sure, the one where I have to write a physics paper, study for an exam and the only week this semester I get to be less than 3 hours away from my boyfriend… sure sounds good.

Today sucks, I’m going to give myself a treat and order in. Well, the goddamn delivery guy yelled at me.

Delivery guy calls when he gets here

Him: Hello?

Me: hello, is this..

Him (annoyed): HELLO?

Me: Is this…


Me: I’ll be right…

Him (down right angry): I have your food!

Me: I’m coming (during this time I’ve grabbed a crutch and am attempting to jump down the steps…owe.)

Delivery guy walks through the front door.

Him (accusatory):Why didn’t you tell me you were on crutches?

Me: I tried t….

Him: You could have just said the door was unlocked!

Me: I didn’t know it w…

Him: You should have said something!

Me: uhh… sorry… didn’t … how much?

Anyway I gave the delivery guy who yelled at me a $5 tip on a $16 dinner. Why? Who the hell knows, I just wanted him to go away so I could eat my sad dinner by myself. Here delivery guy, take all my money and the last bit of my dignity.

Yup, good day.


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