Day 4: The First Group Meeting

"Day four, and I already felt the weight of this group project looming over me like a dark cloud. Sara had insisted on having our first meeting today, which meant sacrificing my precious lunch break. Great start.

We met in the library, at one of those group tables tucked away in the corner. Sara was already there when I arrived, setting up her laptop and arranging colour-coded sticky notes. ‘You’re late,’ she said without looking up. I checked my watch—11:58. It’s not even noon yet.

Faisal strolled in five minutes later, holding a cup of bubble tea and wearing the most relaxed expression I’d ever seen. ‘Hey, guys,’ he said, plopping down in the chair. Sara shot him a glare but didn’t say anything. Muthu showed up last, carrying a notebook that looked like it hadn’t been opened since high school.

‘Okay,’ Sara started, clapping her hands like a corporate trainer. ‘We need to finalize our company today. I’ve shortlisted three options: a logistics startup, an e-commerce platform, and a sustainable fashion brand.’

‘What about the mamak stall?’ Faisal asked, slurping his bubble tea.

Sara sighed. ‘We’re not doing a mamak stall.’

‘But think about it,’ Faisal argued. ‘They’re everywhere, and people love them. Plus, we could do field research—like, eat there. It’s practical.’

Muthu chuckled, but Sara wasn’t amused. ‘We need something with enough depth to analyze. Logistics startup, e-commerce platform, or sustainable fashion. Pick one.’

I tried to mediate. ‘How about the e-commerce platform? It’s modern, relevant, and we can find a lot of resources online.’

Sara nodded approvingly. Faisal shrugged. ‘Fine, but if it gets boring, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

With the company decided, Sara moved on to assigning tasks. She pulled out a spreadsheet and started typing furiously. ‘Eddie, you’ll handle the research on the company’s history and mission. Faisal, you’ll look into their marketing strategies. Muthu, you can focus on their supply chain.’

‘What about you?’ Faisal asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘I’ll oversee everything and compile the final report,’ Sara replied, sounding like a CEO.

‘So, you’re the boss,’ Faisal said, grinning.

‘If that’s what it takes to make this project work,’ Sara shot back.

We spent the next hour awkwardly discussing deadlines and trying to pretend we were a functional team. Faisal kept cracking jokes, Muthu kept yawning, and Sara kept getting more annoyed. I just tried to stay neutral and jot down my tasks, praying this project wouldn’t completely derail my semester.

As we wrapped up, Faisal announced, ‘By the way, I’m going to KL this weekend, so I might not get much done. Just letting you guys know.’

Sara looked like she was about to explode. I quickly stepped in. ‘It’s fine. Let’s just stick to the plan, and we’ll regroup next week.’

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"After surviving my first group meeting, I thought I deserved a peaceful lunch. Spoiler alert: the universe had other plans.

The cafeteria was packed as usual, but I managed to snag a spot in the queue for nasi lemak. The smell of sambal and freshly fried chicken was calling my name. I was already dreaming about that first bite when disaster struck.

As I reached the counter, balancing my tray, someone bumped into me from behind. My tray wobbled. I tried to save it, but gravity was faster. The plate of nasi lemak, the glass of iced Milo, everything went flying.

The worst part? It didn’t just hit the floor—it hit someone.

I froze as a guy in a crisp white shirt turned around, now wearing my nasi lemak. Sambal dripped down his chest, and the look on his face could’ve curdled milk. He was one of those serious-looking seniors who probably ran a club or chaired a committee. I braced myself for a lecture.

Instead, he just sighed and said, ‘You owe me lunch.’

‘I—I’m so sorry!’ I stammered, grabbing tissues from the counter. I offered them to him, but he waved me off, muttering something about a spare shirt in his bag. The cafeteria crowd, meanwhile, had gone completely silent, all eyes on us.

Faisal, who had just walked in, witnessed the whole thing and immediately started laughing. ‘Bro, you’re a walking disaster!’ he said, doubling over.

As if things couldn’t get worse, I spotted my campus crush a few tables away. She was trying not to laugh but failing miserably. I felt my face heat up and quickly grabbed another tray to redo my order, praying this time I’d make it to a table in one piece.

When I finally sat down, Faisal joined me, still chuckling. ‘You’ve got a gift, man. First day, you spill sambal on yourself. Fourth day, you spill it on someone else. What’s next? A whole pot of curry?’

I glared at him but couldn’t help laughing too. What else could I do? At this rate, I’d be remembered not for my academic achievements, but for my legendary cafeteria mishaps.

Lesson of the day: Always hold your tray with two hands. And maybe avoid sambal—it’s too dangerous."