A few years back I would crap in my pants whenever I would get this message from The Man--"Please proceed to the office now"--because I would automatically anticipate that there were only three things I could be told.
#1: You failed the exam.
#2: You failed the exam.
#3: Yes, the last exam too.
Those were mere anticipations, though, as I would usually just be asked to fill up forms and stuff and sometimes be reminded to sign the attendance sheet and stuff. Which is not to say that I didn't fail any exam--I failed all of them. Well maybe not all, I passed the ones with trivia questions and really huge bonuses for good deeds. Ooooh, self-deprecation. I love it.
Still it was with much trepidation that I ran to the latest The Man a few weeks back when I received a similar message.
"Hey This Could Be a Job For Mulder and Scully," The Man said. "This is Tempus Fugit. He is an Australian exchange medical student. He will be staying in your ward service!!!"
"Gulp," I gulped, a huge bolus of saliva getting stuck in my esophagus as I anticipated a few days of aneurysm-inducing conversations in English. "For... how long will he be staying with us?"
"Oh, the entire month," she said.