A month or so ago, I had a school hand-in project for a design manual. I got an extension for a week, due to (documented) illness and two important political meetings with mandatory attendance in my organisation.
Sunday, the day before the extended hand-in date, I got so sick again I could hardly stand upright, much less go to school. So I turned to my (always trusty) flat-mate and asked him to deliver the DVD and papers to the Media department at the school. He said sure, it’s on my way, and that was that.
Or so I thought. Today, two days after Ronny (not real name) moved out, his mother called. Apparently, he’d accidentally brought home with him a sweater that belonged to me and wondered if there was a time when I was home and she could unload it. Oh, and a plastic bag with papers and a DVD.
. . .
. . .
No, I’m not angry at your son, lady. I’m going to KILL HIM! His death certificate will read ‘death through trauma to the neck’ AFTER I HAVE SMASHED THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER ALL THE WAY THROUGH HIS SKULL.
How could you do that, you pestilence faced cunt-scrape?! That was the only goddamn class I needed good scores for to get into the schools I’ve applied to!
Yes, he should have delivered the assignment. Instead of killing your former roommate, call your professor immediately and beg for forgiveness. Bring chocolate if you must.
Your flat-mate did screw up big time, but so did you. You should have made contact with the Prof and verified delivery. Sorry this happened to you and take it as a lesson learned. Hopefully, the advice given by PunditLisa will work out for you.
I was perfectly plaid and mannered. As far as expansive rages go, I was a nice, cushy burberry blanket on a smooth sand sea, towards his mother on the phone.
Of course, imagining romantically creative settings in which to kick her son’s ass helped. No more free beer for YOU!
Seconded. Learned the hard way once when in college I contracted to have one of my papers typed from longhand at $XX a page, a small fortune for me at the time. I had 4 hourlies for other courses that week & I needed to study for them, so I offered cash for typing services and dropped the manuscript off with her a week before it was due.
I stopped by to pick up the finished product and pay her on Thursday (it was due Friday) from her dorm room to find that she had been vacillating with her BF in bed all week with pot bought on spec of my paying her. I was rather po’d by the situation, which was exacerbated by the fact that a) she had decided not to type the paper and not tell me and b) she was somehow hoping that I’d still give her the money. :eek: :mad: I remember grabbing my manuscript back and cursing her up and down properly. Her BF may have taken everything else, but her ears lost their virginity that day.