It's been nearly two years since I endured Chem 107, and the bitter aftertaste still hasn't worn off. I did, however, alleviate some of the anger I felt towards my lab partners.
Partner 1: The charming skeptic.
Daniel was not out to get me, he was just out to get an A. He was a little skeptical of my "know-how" and wasn't willing to risk his grade on my unreliable, feminine capabilities. Once I convinced him I wasn't brain-dead, he turned into a very likable over-achiever.
Partner 2: Just plain mean.
As the semester progressed, Ian refused to acknowledge my competency in the chemistry lab, or even my existence, for that matter. He was rude, condescending, arrogant, etc. In other words, he was every bit deserving of what happened next.
When the day of the final exam arrived, I walked in feeling nervous, but prepared. I was wearing my apron, goggles, and close-toed shoes. I greeted my partners, and received nothing but an icy stare from Ian. He then picked up the Bunsen burner sitting in front of him and said, "Here, you can use this one." I was surprised at this simple favor, but I quickly understood once I discovered it was one of the faulty burners that only sputtered out a few scattered puffs of smoke. Once I found a functioning piece of equipment on the now picked-over shelf, I was ready to begin.
We were all given our own numbered test tube containing a specific chemical. We had to perform various tests on the unknown until we could discern which chemical we were given: We had two hours. We all got to work immediately, performing elaborate chemical tests. Ian and his bad attitude were the last thing on my mind. But then, the unthinkable happened. About halfway through the test period, Ian was strolling across the lab and simultaneously checking out his own reflection in someone's protective goggles, causing him to violently crash into me and my fragile test tube. The test tube shattered, and my unknown chemical splashed into a puddle at my feet. An hour's worth of work was now destroyed. As if that weren't enough, Ian just shrugged and said, "It was an accident. Get off my back! It's not like you were gonna figure it out anyways."
That was IT. I was tired of Ian, tired of chemistry, and tired of playing nice. I watched as he set his test tube in the test tube rack and headed over to ask the T.A. a question. I quickly and calmly grabbed a pipette full of some acidic, reactive chemical, and squirted it straight into his test tube: Quickly and efficiently guaranteeing him an F on the final.
