It was supposed to be a breakfast filled with copious amounts of joy and cream cheese.
Unfortunately, 10am bagel bliss was not meant for me. I was slicing my bagel open and happened to slice a little too far a little too strong and right into the index finger of my left hand. Not a big deal right? Just a wee boo-boo on little Lydia's fingy. On any other day, you'd be right. Today however, happens to be the day before my all important guitar exam. An exam that decides the fate of my degree is looming and my left index finger is almost out of action. Not ideal.
You're waiting for it aren't you? The, realisation, the conclusion. Oh, you know me too well you! You're quite right in assuming it doesn't end there, I am not about to sell you my sob story without sliding in some sort of a moral of the story.
So it goes: I clutched my throbbing pinky down Symonds street and up the stairs in the Kate Edgar building. I watched as the receptionist at Student Health stifled a chuckle as I gave my explanation for needing to see someone. I saw the nurse, then the doctor, then they made a lovely little outfit for my pinky consisting of steri-strips and some gauze. They walked me through the steps I could take to ensure my grades were not effected by my last minute blunder. I then had to see my tutor. I took a great gulp and faced the daunting desk of Neil. He's lovely, but a little intimidating. I explained myself and presented the necessary paperwork and he was so accomodating. The man that I feared turned into less of a towering giant and more of a sympathetic soul. He told me it was up to me and that he'd do whatever I felt comfortable with. I could try tomorrow or apply for an extension.
It's strange, lecturers, teachers, bosses, basically any authoritative figures can come across as such giants. Such scary creatures, waiting to trip us up. Really, they're just human and they get that accidents happen. It's a nice discovery, your giants are people too.
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