Fred just got out of his second PSYC 205 midterm. He’s waiting by the door for his friend John, excited to share just how good it went in there. Fred doesn’t know it yet, but in Fall 2019, he’s gonna have to retake that class.

“How did it go?” asks Fred, ready to skip to the part where he answers his own question.

“Fine,” says John, “we’ll see…what about—”

“It went pretty well,” Fred blurts out. “I’ll probably be in the 80’s, something like that. A-, B+. I’m feeling real good about this.”

In about a week, Fred will learn he actually got a pitiful 18 per cent on the test. Considering it was a four-options multiple choice exam, this means Fred did worst than a blind monkey with a banana up his ass would have.

“You know, I was still hesitant, but after this, I think I’m gonna apply for Honours,” Fred keeps going. “Yeah, fuck it, I’m doing it. And with the grades I’m about to get for this semester, they’ll have no choice but to accept me.”

Fred will not make it to Honours. In fact, he won’t even make it to graduation, switching his major five times in a year before dropping out to develop a series of start-ups, all variations on the Uber model that will fail miserably.

Defeated, Fred will start hanging out in neighborhood bars, where he will tell tales of better days to annoyed patrons who really should have gotten a table.


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