"Wingman No. 2"

Failing with flying colors

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We all have at least one friend who, every now and then can step out from behind the shadows and use what I like to call, "their special skills".

these skills may include, but are not limited to:

• their cunning charm,

• impressive wit, and

• the ability to master the art of conversation.

all in which they use to help us out in times of our failing love life.

In my opinion, this friend who so graciously came out into the light has one job and one job only, to set up the play, so we, in time, can execute it.

Allow me to explain further.

This particular friends' position is to investigate our options within the surrounding area, collect the data, and report back. Once that task has been handled, it is now time for our friend to lure the shorty or fine brotha we so desperately have our sights set on and lead them in our direction.

And how do they do that, you ask? Well, in one of three ways:

1. speak highly of us, (hype me up! Tell them I'm Beyonce's nineth cousin removed!)

2. Cue hand gestures that signal when it's our time to shine, (is now the perfect time to use one or more of my infamous pick-up lines?)

and lastly,

3. Cause some sort of life-threatening distraction that allows us to be the hero, (Let me be your pink panther, boo).

Overall, this friend's job is a crucial one, and if done right, could lead to a lifetime of true love and commitment on our part and endless bragging rights on theirs.

And do you have any idea what this friend is called?...

That's right! A wingman!

But what happens when your wingman fails you?

What happens when your wingman clearly didn't understand the assignment?

Like I said before, one job and one job only, to set up the play so I, in time, could execute it.

In this story, you will see why relying solely on your wingman is a terrible idea, and not only that, but to encourage you all to try and find an actual person to advocate for you instead of sending a number two pencil to do a real man's job.

if you want something done right, you must, in fact, do it yourself...or not.

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1:55 pm, Franklin Hall

Class: Media, Power, Culture.

It was our last day of class before the official start of spring break, and if you read my last story, "Nailed It", then you would remember how excited I was to show the world my sunset orange nails, and how prepared I had made myself for a week of what I like to call, 'spring break excellence'. But before I could be let out into the wild of warm weather and crop tops, I was to first sit in a lecture hall of over a hundred other students and prepare to take an exam that could honestly go either way in terms of me passing or failing, (I studied...I think).

Like many times before, I had showed up to this class ten to fifteen minutes late and each time, almost somehow being worse than the last. Showing up late to a classroom that's being held as a lecture is dreadful, especially when you're trying to find a seat, (any other time ya'll want to assign things! Assigning assignments, assigning expensive ass books ...ASSIGN these seats!)

For Example,

Have you ever showed up to the movie theaters just a little too late? Here you are thinking you're missing the trailers but in actuality you're really missing the whole first half of the film. Well, navigating a lecture hall ten to fifteen minutes late is quite similar. In both circumstances, we are wandering about this ginormous space, cutting in-between rows, stepping on people's belongings, blocking views, finding what we think is an empty seat until we come to realize it's actually being occupied by someone's jacket or bookbag, and my personal favorite and the most embarrassing one of all, avoiding the eyes of the people already present who mock your ass for being the only one disturbing the peace.

So yes, that was me, moving about the classroom completely disheveled while cutting in-between rows, stepping on people's belongings, and averting the eyes of the people mocking me for being the ONLY one disturbing the peace. And after what seemed like forever, I finally spotted myself an empty seat on the opposite side from where I entered, right there in the middle section of the classroom and the last seat on the end.

After crossing over an entire row of already seated and comfortable students, and while sweating nervously and annoyingly saying "excuse me" over a hundred times, I had finally made it to what I thought was an empty seat, (can ya'll believe this seat was actually being occupied by a girl's bookbag that looked more like a briefcase. I knocked that shit to the ground. "Move your briefcase! We ain't in court!" Who did she think she was, the DA?).

Finally claiming my spot in the classroom, I sat perfectly still, giving my embarrassing moment enough time to die off in the eyes of everyone I not only stepped over and in front of on my way to this broken-down seat, but also to the people who occupied the five rows behind ours as well, and after letting a few moments go by and feeling like I was now in the clear to move about my broken seat freely, I removed my jacket and took out one lonely number two pencil in preparation to take this exam.

As our professor went over last minute details regarding our test and jokingly talked about the crucial workload we could all expect to have after the break, I did what I always do and zoned him and his not-so funny jokes out while this time admiring the detail work of one of the cleanest fades I ever seen from the brotha who sat in front of me, (the lines were so precise. Sir, who is your barber?).

While exams were being passed out row by row, I anxiously waited for the guy in front of me with his crispy creme fade to hand me my copy so I could immediately get started, but moments away from him doing so, I watched as he struggled to separate his packet from the rest and even dropping half of the stack on his left side clearly amplifying his frustration. He slammed his copy onto his desk and turned around to hand me the rest of the papers, and there he was, a brownie skinned brotha with dark and mysterious eyes that I locked in on stronger than a combination lock. This brotha was fine! So fine that I almost offered to take his exam for him, (let me do you the honor of failing us both, Your Fine-ness).

I was frozen. Do you really mean to tell me that this is what was sitting in front of me the entire time? What are the chances of me navigating this lecture hall ten to fifteen minutes late, knocking over some girl's briefca-, I mean bookbag, and claiming a seat right behind this art of a man? It was fate! (I knew a brotha rockin' a crispy creme fade meant something).

I grabbed the stack of exams from his hands, removed one for myself, and continued the flow of our row, but before anyone was allowed to start their exam, our professor once again interrupted the process to go over the structure of the test and more key points that he believed would be beneficial to us, (I mean at this point you might as well just give us the answers).

As we were all waiting to be given permission to start our exam, I, for some reason, couldn't quite get over the brotha who sat in front me. Feeling like I could've done more or even said more, been a bit bolder, I devised a plan in the hopes of being granted a redo and leaving a much better impression than the one before, but first, I had to once again gain his attention, and quick while our professor was still boring the class.

But what to do, what to do?

Got it!

Remember the key role of a wingman that I told ya'll about? To set up the play so I could execute it?

That's all my pencil had to do. Set up the damn play!

And do you think my pencil set up the play?

Hell no it didn't! Because if it did, I wouldn't be writing this now would I?

The Plan:

His name was Tahj, I could see it on the top of his exam after craning my neck in a position that I would not recommend.

The plan was to use option three: cause a life-threatening distraction to place myself as a hero.

However, with limited resources and exiguous time, I had to improvise and completely switch up the foundation of option three, therefore providing option three A: be a damsel in distress that causes HIM to be a hero.

The new plan:

The goal was to get Tahj's attention by using my "wingman", (my number two pencil), to do it.

My wingman's play:

After I dropped my "wingman" on the ground, it was to casually roll down the inclining steps next to where I sat and land just one step over alongside Tahj's desk, leaving itself visible enough for him to notice. Once my "wingman" gained Tahj's attention, it was to now lure him in my direction.

Tahj would pick my "wingman" up from the ground, turn back towards my desk and ask if the pencil was mine, hand it over, and then I would make my move, (whatever move that was).

The plan was simple, and not only that, but it was quick, carefully thought out, and quite frankly, bulletproof. There was no way anything could go wrong.

The actual play:

I grabbed my "wingman" from the top of my desk and carefully placed it on the edge ready to perform my role effortlessly. I could feel our professor coming to a close with his unnecessary last minute exam tips and I knew if I was going to do this, I had to act fast, but moments away from me acting out my part, our professor shouted the word "BEGIN" and my hand jolted, quickly side swiping my "wingman" off the edge of my desk, and there it went.

I watched as my "wingman" rolled from the corner of my desk, hitting the ground and continuing to roll down the inclining step next to me stopping just inches away from Tahj's foot, (Flawless! My plan worked).

But this is where my "wingman" fumbled the ball. Its job was to land next to Tahj's desk, leaving itself visible enough for Tahj to notice, instead, my "wingman" landed next to Tahj's foot and was directly outside his line of sight allowing the unexpected to happen and causing my "wingman" to completely go off script.

Tahj leaned back into his chair stretching out his left leg along the aisle and inadvertently kicking my "wingman" further down the inclining steps. Step by step, row by row, I watched in utter distress as my "wingman" not only embarrassingly passed its destination, but managed to go from being only one row away from me to now six or seven rows away and landing entirely outside my view.

I had absolutely no idea where my "wingman" was, and if I had to guess, it was probably somewhere wedged between the feet of two girls in the second row or the depths of hell, either way, my "wingman" was gone, and I was left sitting at my desk with no other pencil and no other way to take this exam.

"Think Simone, Think".

With everyone already cracking open their exams and others already making it to the second page, there I was still sitting at the edge of my row with a blank test that didn't even have my name on it. I had to find another solution, and in my mind, there were only three logical ones to consider:

1. Ask someone near me if they had an extra pencil for me to borrow, (but I would have to move in stealth. Any sign of talking and i would fail before I could fail).

2. raise my hand and ask the professor for an extra pencil, (I couldn't just walk down there, our professor made it clear in his unnecessary pro-tips that we weren't allowed to leave our seats unless we finished. again, I would fail before I could fail).

or

3. Leave. Just leave the damn classroom and never come back, (go ahead and fail before I could fail).

I decided to approach these solutions in order. After carefully scoping out the scene and making sure my professor wasn't watching, I turned to my right and asked the white girl who sat beside me if she had an extra pencil I could borrow, and after looking at me with evil eyes, she replied with a delightful "no" and I assumed it was revenge for knocking over her briefcase, (you shady bitch). But I still had another person within my vicinity; crispy creme fade! Not only would this brotha be my second option to my first solution, but this could also be my third chance at getting his attention, (third times a charm!). Once again, I scoped the scene and checked in on my professor who still had his head buried in a stack of papers and if I was going to act, I had to do it now. It was risky, but I cautiously leaned forward and tapped Tahj's shoulder who barely even budged. Turning his head slightly to the left, never even meeting my eyes, he sat perfectly still waiting to see what the hell it was that I wanted.

"Do you have an extra pencil?", I asked, carefully trying to bring my tone to a whisper.

Tahj, with a noticeable attitude, shook his head 'no' and continued with the circling of answer "B" for question thirteen, (I don't know why he had an attitude with me, I'm not the one who gave him this exam! That's why you dropped the stack with your clumsy ass and your Dunkin' Donut fade!)

I was livid! Solution number one was not going at all like how I had hoped, and I just knew solution two wouldn't be any better. There was no way I could gain the attention of my professor who at the very start of this exam hadn't raised his head up not once, but I tried anyway.

Raising my hand and leaving it in the air for at least ten minutes, I just knew this would be a failed attempt.

I was sitting in the middle section of the classroom and was the last seat on the end, trust me, it would not have been the first place he would've looked. Feeling completely foolish for being the only one in the classroom with their hand raised like we were in kindergarten, I quickly put my hands back on my desk and began scowling the back of Tahj's head who I blamed for getting me into this mess in the first place. I decided to wait until our exam time was up so I could then utilize solution three: LEAVE.

As students began to wrap up their test and head out, I saw that as my cue to get up and walk out as well. I grabbed my tote bag along with my blank exam and followed the rest of the six students who were heading down the inclining steps. As I approached my professor's desk to hand him my exam, I felt an odd feeling under my foot as I waited my turn. As I lift my foot to inspect what lied underneath, to my surprise, it was my "wingman" who had rolled down to the main floor of our lecture hall. Completely annoyed, I handed my professor my exam and after mixing it with the rest of the pile, he cheerfully told me to enjoy my spring break to which I responded, "Thanks. I'll see you again next semester", knowing I had failed his class.

After powerwalking through the halls of Franklin Hall, I heard an alert go off on my phone and noticed it was a notification from my Blackboard account. Opening up the notification and plastered in huge red letters on the site were the official times and slots for our class's makeup test.

Won't he do it?

©2022, Arien Simone