Tag: postaday

The Gross Job

“Eww, gross. How to get rid of the blood from our hands?”

Katie looked at her palms smeared in the greenish hue of once-fresh blood. She removed the lingering tissues from between her fingers, struggling not to throw up on her partner.

Michael was more calm. “Let’s worry about that later.” He assured her. “Our priority is keeping the heart and the liver intact. A lot depends on this job.”

Wrinkling her nose, Katie read the instructions. “Immerse organ in solution, replacing the liquid everyday for a week.”

“Ok,” Michael said, determination spreading across his eyes. “Let’s get that A.”

Discovery

I hate mobs. They make me nervous. Even as I think about it, my heart bangs in its cage and my legs start to tremble threatening to give way at any moment. And speaking in front of a gathering is awful. Give me a mike and put me under the spotlight, and I’ll be reduced to a slump.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought it would be like.

In school and at work, I’ve had to explain something to a bunch of people. But every time that happens, I freak out so much that my speech loses all sense. And that’s why I was beyond “just nerves” when I heard I’d have to conduct a session in a workshop at my job.
To complicate things, I already knew a bit about my audience: they were all stay-at-home married women. Some had kids, some had more time. Most of them were single- or double-degree holders on a break after marriage. And all of them were at least 10 years older than I. Talk about intimidation.

I needed several deep breaths. And a few gulps — of air.

How would I explain something to them without coming off as a young and insufferable know-it-all? I had so many doubts; people hated contradictions, and a school kid telling older women what to do, isn’t most people’s idea of an ideal workshop. They would’ve expected somone much older-looking, taller, and experienced to conduct an educational workshop.

And yet, when I stood in front of the audience, the glare from the projector almost blinding me, the uncertainty disappeared from my mind. All of a sudden, I was looking at a bunch of people eager to learn; they didn’t care that my head, while I stood, was at their eye while they sat.

Clutching the mike, I, for the first time, felt confident facing a crowd. I was calm. My legs were steady, my heartbeat didn’t sound like a siren, and my pulse wasn’t racing. I began, and I felt myself smiling. I realised how easy it felt. It felt natural talking to these women who wanted to learn and to listen. And then, out of nowhere, I discovered I had matured so much from the shy and cowering schoolgirl I was until a few years ago.

I had grown up at last. And for once, all was well.

Negligence

Unable to face the dagger-eyed crowd, the student counsellor hung his head. He had failed them all.

And as a consequence, all their families were now shredded to pieces. There was no way he could reverse what had happened. He had failed as a father and now it was time he paid the price.

He didn’t look at the boy; couldn’t recognise the twisted, convoluted child standing trial for rampaging his school, gunning down classmates and teachers alike.

Davis blamed himself. He had spent a lifetime analysing behavioural patterns in other children, failing to recognise it in his own.