I had this really really boring chem lab class wherein we were to do one stoopid little titration experiment. Not once, or twice, or thrice ... but, SIX whole times. Six is anyways not a particularly good number of times, one does an experiment that involves blowing up through pipettes, and carefully measuring out chemicals having quasi-intellectual-sounding-polysyllabic names (sodium isocyanate et al), at any time of the year ... and on the eve of Diwali, it gets plain worse. And to cap it all, it was a strictly individual experiment.
We had two hours to wrap it all up, and half-way through the class, I had just obtained one set of readings and had just begun the second attempt. Half an hour later, when the two other guys doing the same experiment finished off and got all their six sets of readings signed by the instructor, I realised that I had to buckle up. No, the thought of not finishing the experiment did not bother me, it was the thought of staying back on Diwali eve to finish it, that frustrated me all the more. So I decided to give my luck a try.
As it is, it hadn't been of much help to me this entire semester ... so maybe, I might just get lucky now, or so I thought.
After I had completed the experiment a second time, I quickly manipulated and made up four other readings out of thin air, and presto! presented them to the instructor.
Now this instructor is ... yes, you guessed it right, the no-nonsense kinda usual chemistry person who likes venting out his five years of chemistry studying frustration upon anyone who wishes to risk it. So he eyed me very keenly, before asking me sternly. "Were you not doing the first one some ten minutes back?"
I was expecting this, and so calmly replied, "Sir, yes, but then I got the hang of it and the next five happened pretty quickly."
He eyed me again. Penetrating kinda gaze. That makes you wonder whether you are really as opaque as you think you are. "A bit too quickly I'd say?"
I turned red. This was it. The make-or-break instance. I gathered up all the niceness I could muster. Difficult when you are standing in front of someone like him. But I tried my best. And then, when I was convinced that I possibly couldn't be nicer to him, I gave this very very sweet toothy smile, and gulped ... before opening my mouth ...
"Oh sir, by the way, Happy Diwali!"
And waited. With needless to say, bated breath.
Five angst-ridden seconds later.
The grim grumpy face that had eyed me so sternly for the past few minutes, broke into a smile. That was it. I knew my trick had worked. I had to now just enjoy the aftermath.
"Same to you!" he grinned back. And flashed me a pair of GreatWhites before picking up his pen and gracefully signing my set of readings.
> > > fastforward > > >
So as you can see, what a little niceness can do. Or should I say, sugar-coated niceness? Whatever it may be, it worked like charmed clockwork. And I was on cloud 9.2 when I walked out of the lab.
By your leave, dear reader, the festivities beckon me. Here's wishing a cheerful, prosperous and happy Diwali to all of you!
Till then people. Love you guys!
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