The Case of the Missing Protein
No, this is not going to be an educational story to help children learn about the important role of proteins in our bodies.
At work - where else? - it suddenly appeared that the company was missing a few hundred thousand dollars. Those few hundred thousand dollars were contained in a small plastic bottle that held 187mg of white powder. Checking the data in the inventory, I realized that one of the bottles of protein was missing. I put a big highlighted question mark next to the name on the list and moved on to the next product, thinking that it must be somewhere on another shelf or being tested. It was a few days later that my co-worker said that they hadn't seen it anywhere and I testified that it hadn't seen it in the freezer.
The interesting part about this disappearance of a few hundred thousand dollars were the theories that might have arisen as to the location of the powder. Someone could have just taken it to run tests without asking us, but then Kristin spent the majority of the day making phone calls that confirmed that no one had it and the bottle of protein was, as she put it, MIA.
One must wonder then what happened to it. As every label on every vial warns the possessor that the contents are "not for drug use", it would be very probable, that, looking at a thousand of those labels every day, someone might've gotten the idea to snort the thing, because of course everyone's most favorite thing in the world is to do the exact opposite of what they're told. However, doubting that our co-workers are so stupid as to believe that FGF-9 would produce entertaining hallucinogenic visions, this particular theory must be thrown aside. Then there comes the suspicion that the guys who were working on the locks in our building the other day or the guy who was calibrating the scales could have stolen it while we weren't looking. But although it's worth a few hundred thousand dollars, I should imagine that the types of white powders we work with would not be very profitable to sell on the streets:
"Yo, wha's that you got there?"
"Tha's vascular endothelial growth factor, man."
"Duuuuuude..."
The actual solution to the mystery of the missing protein was nowhere near as interesting as what we went through to figure it out. In fact, it was so dull that I won't even talk about it. But then if you think about it, solutions are never as interesting as the problems. What's more fun, looking at a completed puzzle or putting together the pieces? In detective novels everyone makes such a big deal about the ending, but what good does the ending do you if you haven't read the book? It simply can't be as captivating if you don't take the time to read about the events that led to it. It means nothing. Without an ending, however, a story is still a story, because you can imagine countless endings in your mind and it can still mean something to you.
So now I sit here, with my long-awaited AP grade report and watch as my whole year comes down to four numbers. All of the times that I wished there were more than twenty four hours in a day; all my mental breakdowns; the times that I holed myself up in my house (spending waaarm summer daaays indooooors), alienated myself from everyone, and lost most of my friends in the process; the times when it hurt to realize that I was losing everyone; all the times I didn't do my math homework or English homework for the sake of chemistry; my shaking hands and nausea before the French test, after having studied for three hours straight, through my chemistry and Spanish blocks - everything concludes in this piece of paper. And this piece of paper and the numbers on it mean nothing to you, Reader, like an ending without a story, but even to me they wouldn't mean a thing without the nightmare that this year turned out to be.
Forgive me if in the last paragraph I sounded bitter. In spite of the compliments, I really am a failure as a writer, because I couldn't even convey that I really am happy with what that piece or paper with the CollegeBoard letterhead. If it were bad I probably wouldn't be writing about it anyway. I'd be crouching in my room crying or listening to Morrissey or both.
In case anyone was remotely interested:
Chem - 4
French - 4
Spanish - 5
Psych - 5
Cheers, Reader. I hope I didn't bore you too much.
~Katia
At work - where else? - it suddenly appeared that the company was missing a few hundred thousand dollars. Those few hundred thousand dollars were contained in a small plastic bottle that held 187mg of white powder. Checking the data in the inventory, I realized that one of the bottles of protein was missing. I put a big highlighted question mark next to the name on the list and moved on to the next product, thinking that it must be somewhere on another shelf or being tested. It was a few days later that my co-worker said that they hadn't seen it anywhere and I testified that it hadn't seen it in the freezer.
The interesting part about this disappearance of a few hundred thousand dollars were the theories that might have arisen as to the location of the powder. Someone could have just taken it to run tests without asking us, but then Kristin spent the majority of the day making phone calls that confirmed that no one had it and the bottle of protein was, as she put it, MIA.
One must wonder then what happened to it. As every label on every vial warns the possessor that the contents are "not for drug use", it would be very probable, that, looking at a thousand of those labels every day, someone might've gotten the idea to snort the thing, because of course everyone's most favorite thing in the world is to do the exact opposite of what they're told. However, doubting that our co-workers are so stupid as to believe that FGF-9 would produce entertaining hallucinogenic visions, this particular theory must be thrown aside. Then there comes the suspicion that the guys who were working on the locks in our building the other day or the guy who was calibrating the scales could have stolen it while we weren't looking. But although it's worth a few hundred thousand dollars, I should imagine that the types of white powders we work with would not be very profitable to sell on the streets:
"Yo, wha's that you got there?"
"Tha's vascular endothelial growth factor, man."
"Duuuuuude..."
The actual solution to the mystery of the missing protein was nowhere near as interesting as what we went through to figure it out. In fact, it was so dull that I won't even talk about it. But then if you think about it, solutions are never as interesting as the problems. What's more fun, looking at a completed puzzle or putting together the pieces? In detective novels everyone makes such a big deal about the ending, but what good does the ending do you if you haven't read the book? It simply can't be as captivating if you don't take the time to read about the events that led to it. It means nothing. Without an ending, however, a story is still a story, because you can imagine countless endings in your mind and it can still mean something to you.
So now I sit here, with my long-awaited AP grade report and watch as my whole year comes down to four numbers. All of the times that I wished there were more than twenty four hours in a day; all my mental breakdowns; the times that I holed myself up in my house (spending waaarm summer daaays indooooors), alienated myself from everyone, and lost most of my friends in the process; the times when it hurt to realize that I was losing everyone; all the times I didn't do my math homework or English homework for the sake of chemistry; my shaking hands and nausea before the French test, after having studied for three hours straight, through my chemistry and Spanish blocks - everything concludes in this piece of paper. And this piece of paper and the numbers on it mean nothing to you, Reader, like an ending without a story, but even to me they wouldn't mean a thing without the nightmare that this year turned out to be.
Forgive me if in the last paragraph I sounded bitter. In spite of the compliments, I really am a failure as a writer, because I couldn't even convey that I really am happy with what that piece or paper with the CollegeBoard letterhead. If it were bad I probably wouldn't be writing about it anyway. I'd be crouching in my room crying or listening to Morrissey or both.
In case anyone was remotely interested:
Chem - 4
French - 4
Spanish - 5
Psych - 5
Cheers, Reader. I hope I didn't bore you too much.
~Katia