I fucked up.
The office held its quarterly town hall meeting this morning, and food was to be catered. And I had for some reason – most probably from lack of interest slash concentration slash resentment – ordered less than enough lunch boxes. Close to 30 staff would not theirs. A grievous grievous mistake.
It’s a good thing the meeting was held in office, for those who had no lunch boxes could still eat at the canteen. But I had single-handedly disappointed 30 of my colleagues; A prior email had promised all attendees a lunch box.
However, that wasn’t the most upsetting part. I had discovered the shortfall when my supervisor and I were sorting the various departments’ orders, but instead of owning up on the spot, I pushed the blame to the caterer.
When I broke the news to those unfortunate staff, they all responded with nonchalance.
“Oh, it’s fine, I can go to the canteen.”
“I wasn’t that hungry anyway.”
“I’m leaving for an appointment anyway.”
I couldn’t be sure if they wrote to my supervisor secretly about my inaptitude but it was certainly very kind of them to have not raised a scene. Whether their nonchalance was genuine or not, I had no way to tell and would have gladly have stamped “CASE CLOSED” on this unhappy – and irresponsible – episode,
but my supervisor had insisted that she be included in the complaint email to the caterer. Once again, I could have owned up, but alas, my cowardice got the better of me – I just couldn’t bear being lectured by her in public again.
I have decided to suck it up and just own up tomorrow morning. To prevent the lie from snowballing.
Funny thing: You would think reaching adulthood would certainly guarantee a sense of responsibility and the tiniest drop of wisdom – I assure you, it doesn’t.
Things would be much simpler if life was a role-playing game – oh, you know those fancy online games where you choose an avatar and a weapon of your choice, battling fantastical beasts and using real money to purchase in-game currency (or an Oscar de la Renta – you can totally tell I’m suffering from Audi Fashion Fest withdrawal symptom – lookalike gown to cloak over ungainly in-game armour while wielding a fairy wand instead of the hideous default chainsaw you had chosen as your weapon of choice.) And every birthday – akin to levelling up in role-playing games – you receive not only presents but also an extra measure of wisdom, responsibility and peace.
I daresay the ultimate battle in this role-playing game we call life is the inner demon within all of us, and few are ever brave enough to face it.