I Hate it When I am Wrong.

It’s not like I don’t fuck up every day at least once. People who claim that they are always right are delusional assholes whose parents are siblings. Now, I’ve known people who’ve truly believed that I never own up to being wrong. But then I divorced most of them, so I didn’t have to listen to that bullshit anymore. I am the most wrong person ever. I feel my wrongness in my DNA. I admit it. I own it. I just hate that it’s true.

Take today for instance. I did not want to tackle the one million essays I had to grade because many of them are just brain-suckingly bad drivel with Fourth-World grammar. I bitched. I moaned. I procrastinated, which I’ve turned into an art; in fact, I am the Picasso of procrastination. I am procrastinating right now! Dawdling. Deferring. Postponing. Yeah.

Anyway. When I could lollygag no longer, I began reading a paper that had about as much merit and substance as a Weiner tweet. (Oooo. I love that. Weiner tweet. Weiner tweet. Weiner tweet. Doesn’t that just scratch all the right itches?) Vociferously I complained. Shrilly too. And, yes, I was whining, which has just been scientifically proven to be the most annoying and despised sound in the universe, like anyone who has ever been near a puling preteen or Fran Drescher didn’t already know that.

And then, my darling compatriot in the fight against execrable composition looked across the desk at me and said, “But it’s your job.” Pause. “You’re just like the waitress.”

Oh. Yeah.

I wrote about that very shit yesterday: bad servers who think their work is beneath them, so they take it out on the ones they are being paid to serve. Fuck. I’m a sucky server. Son of a bitch! 

If all the people who are enrolled in writing classes had already mastered the craft, then there wouldn’t really be a demand to pay me that staggering salary that institutions of higher learning reserve only for adjuncts. So. I’m shutting up. I was wrong. Maybe my husband is right—which he almost always is, by the way. Maybe I might be just possibly somehow helping someone, anyone, even just one learn how to write better. Huh. What a novel idea.