"Are you Left-Handed?"
I get bored with people who only post complaints on their blogs, and I'm afraid that what you're about to read belongs in that yawn-inducing "I-hate-it-when" category. But my story is also a bit of a moral dilemma, so I'm giving myself a pass.
It's about one of my classmates. I'm going to call her Sasha. I met her over the summer in general chemistry. I have to say, I've hated her from the beginning.
Our professor liked to randomly call people to the blackboard to work through homework problems. One day early in the semester he chose a girl who's so shy I actually thought she might start crying when he called her name. She worked through the problem with much pausing and wringing of hands and her answer was something like 0.2 moles.
The professor congratulated her on a job well done and the girl started to return to her seat when Sasha raised her hand.
Professor: "Yes?"
Sasha: "I got 0.21 moles."
I swear to God she said that. Her answer was literrally within one HUNDREDTH of what the shy girl had written on the board.
Professor (exasperated): "That's the same answer, Sasha."
So... not a good first impression. And she continued to unimpress me every single time I interacted with her.
Last fall she showed up at school with rolling luggage. I am not a fan of people who carry their books around in rolling luggage. It just seems ridiculous. But the books are heavy, so I guess it's somewhat understandable.
There have since been many unintentionally funny classroom entrances as Sasha comes barrelling down the steps into a lecture hall: bam-BAM! bam-BAM! bam-BAM! And she's usually moving at top speed because she's obsessed with sitting in the very first row. Always. And always in the aisle seat. In biology it took a lot of effort, too, because there was a class just before ours. So Sasha had to fight through the exiting students while pulling her rolling luggage in a frantic attempt to get to the front of the classroom before anyone else.
I honestly thought it was OCD, until someone pointed out that sitting in the front row is a great way to get professors to remember you. I personally think that it's just a great way to get professors to remember how fucking annoying you are. But whatever. In Sasha's case that's wholly appropriate.
So one day I decided to fuck with her. I got to biology early and stood next to the door. But I got distracted for a split second and Sasha flew past me and got her seat. So then the following week I sat in on the class that was prior to ours. That way I was already inside the room. GENIUS! (I started to regret my plan when I realized that the international relations professor who taught that class really put a premium on class participation; luckily he never called on me.)
So when that class ended, I got up out of my seat and made my way to the front row. (I figured that sitting in that seat during the international relations class would probably have been pushing my luck. Plus it would have required getting there a little too early.) The T.A. was sitting in that seat and he was responding to questions from several students. By the time he was done, it was just me and Sasha standing there. He thought we were students of his.
T.A.: "Can I help you?"
Sasha: "We're in the next class."
T.A.: "Oh. This is a popular seat, I guess."
Touche.
There was an empty seat next to that one, so I guess Sasha was a little shocked when I took the aisle seat.
Sasha: "Aren't you going to sit next to your friend?" She motioned towards Lisa, who was sitting two chairs down.
Me: "No."
Sasha was clearly unhappy. She threw herself down in the second chair, and after about thirty seconds had passed she sighed and turned to me.
Sasha: "Are you left-handed?"
Me: "Yes, I am."
That shut her up. The astonishing thing about this little bit of chutzpah was that, yes, the aisle seat was a lefty desk. BUT SASHA IS RIGHT-HANDED!!
So, that's my complaint.
And here's my dilemma: Sasha wants to be in the book club. And she doesn't want to read the Flaubert book (because "it's too long!"); she -- I shit you not -- wants to read this.
Of course I told her no -- that a dozen other people were already hundreds of pages into the Flaubert book. But she's still going to come to the meeting. AT MY HOUSE. She's going to eat my fondue and sit on my furniture. I knew trying something new wasn't going to work out for me.... WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW???
It's about one of my classmates. I'm going to call her Sasha. I met her over the summer in general chemistry. I have to say, I've hated her from the beginning.
Our professor liked to randomly call people to the blackboard to work through homework problems. One day early in the semester he chose a girl who's so shy I actually thought she might start crying when he called her name. She worked through the problem with much pausing and wringing of hands and her answer was something like 0.2 moles.
The professor congratulated her on a job well done and the girl started to return to her seat when Sasha raised her hand.
Professor: "Yes?"
Sasha: "I got 0.21 moles."
I swear to God she said that. Her answer was literrally within one HUNDREDTH of what the shy girl had written on the board.
Professor (exasperated): "That's the same answer, Sasha."
So... not a good first impression. And she continued to unimpress me every single time I interacted with her.
Last fall she showed up at school with rolling luggage. I am not a fan of people who carry their books around in rolling luggage. It just seems ridiculous. But the books are heavy, so I guess it's somewhat understandable.
There have since been many unintentionally funny classroom entrances as Sasha comes barrelling down the steps into a lecture hall: bam-BAM! bam-BAM! bam-BAM! And she's usually moving at top speed because she's obsessed with sitting in the very first row. Always. And always in the aisle seat. In biology it took a lot of effort, too, because there was a class just before ours. So Sasha had to fight through the exiting students while pulling her rolling luggage in a frantic attempt to get to the front of the classroom before anyone else.
I honestly thought it was OCD, until someone pointed out that sitting in the front row is a great way to get professors to remember you. I personally think that it's just a great way to get professors to remember how fucking annoying you are. But whatever. In Sasha's case that's wholly appropriate.
So one day I decided to fuck with her. I got to biology early and stood next to the door. But I got distracted for a split second and Sasha flew past me and got her seat. So then the following week I sat in on the class that was prior to ours. That way I was already inside the room. GENIUS! (I started to regret my plan when I realized that the international relations professor who taught that class really put a premium on class participation; luckily he never called on me.)
So when that class ended, I got up out of my seat and made my way to the front row. (I figured that sitting in that seat during the international relations class would probably have been pushing my luck. Plus it would have required getting there a little too early.) The T.A. was sitting in that seat and he was responding to questions from several students. By the time he was done, it was just me and Sasha standing there. He thought we were students of his.
T.A.: "Can I help you?"
Sasha: "We're in the next class."
T.A.: "Oh. This is a popular seat, I guess."
Touche.
There was an empty seat next to that one, so I guess Sasha was a little shocked when I took the aisle seat.
Sasha: "Aren't you going to sit next to your friend?" She motioned towards Lisa, who was sitting two chairs down.
Me: "No."
Sasha was clearly unhappy. She threw herself down in the second chair, and after about thirty seconds had passed she sighed and turned to me.
Sasha: "Are you left-handed?"
Me: "Yes, I am."
That shut her up. The astonishing thing about this little bit of chutzpah was that, yes, the aisle seat was a lefty desk. BUT SASHA IS RIGHT-HANDED!!
So, that's my complaint.
And here's my dilemma: Sasha wants to be in the book club. And she doesn't want to read the Flaubert book (because "it's too long!"); she -- I shit you not -- wants to read this.
Of course I told her no -- that a dozen other people were already hundreds of pages into the Flaubert book. But she's still going to come to the meeting. AT MY HOUSE. She's going to eat my fondue and sit on my furniture. I knew trying something new wasn't going to work out for me.... WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW???
Labels: Books, Postbacc Program
2 Comments:
ugh, so funny... I'd also like regular updates on this tightass, please.
oh i cannot wait to meet sasha. she sounds ripe for my scorn!
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