I gave EE my best, ‘you have got to be kidding look’. He did not look amused. I rolled my eyes. Still no reaction.
I considered what had gotten me into this mess and concluded - it was pride.
What had I said? ‘How hard could a graduate course in creative writing be? I have had many graduate classes and I did very well.’ Sure, it was being taught by the famously harsh Mr. E.E. himself, but what had I said? ‘It is the tough ‘take no prisoners’ professors that were the best.’ No false bravado there. And when I found out I was the only student, I had even said ‘good for this proves that I have the fearless determination needed to be a successful writer.’
Pride always comes before a fall.
Enough of the pity party. How was I going to get out of this mess? I thought back to my graduate days. I would use my winning smile, flirtatious nature and clever wit to persuade professors to go easy on me then. Of course I was younger and my breast did not sag to my belly button – that probably helped.
It was then the idea came to me. “Have I ever told you about my sister? Gorgeous woman who married quite well and divorced even better. Now I am not going to ask for a passing grade for a date with her, because that would be wrong in so many ways. But if you give me something better to write about, I’ll get you a date. Did I mention she has breast implants and is easy?”
Pride is bad.
But, selling out your sister for something better than a head of lettuce is reasonable - especially if it gets you a passing grade.