Edited by : Abheri Banerjee
Alright, hold onto your hats because I’m about to walk you through the absolute nightmare that was my group project. And yes, we’re talking about the kind of group project that makes you question every life choice you’ve ever made. It started innocently enough… well, not really. But let’s pretend.
So, here’s the thing: when the professor casually drops the “group project” bomb, my first instinct is to fake an illness and ghost the entire class. But of course, I’m too responsible (or stupid), so I sit through it. The second the words “group project” leave their mouth, my heart skips a beat – then immediately plummets into my stomach. Great, who’s going to screw me over this time?
Enter the group formation. We exchange numbers that we’ll never save, and everyone’s like, “Oh, hey, nice to meet you!” – and I’m over here silently praying I don’t get stuck with the lazy slacker or the know-it-all control freak. But guess what? It’s a mix of both. Fabulous. Now, we’re in a group chat, and my first message is a desperate attempt to hold on to whatever shred of optimism I have left: “Hey guys, let’s brainstorm!”
The chat comes alive for a hot minute – like, maybe we have a shot. People are tossing around ideas like they actually care, and I almost start thinking, hey, maybe this won’t be a disaster after all. Then… a full 24 hours later, nothing. I’m… well, ghosted. Not a peep. I swear I could hear my phone crying in disappointment. One day of activity and poof, it’s like I imagined it all. I’m left here, wondering if I’m the only one with even the smallest amount of self-respect to at least pretend to try.
By the time a week passes, the deadline’s looming. The group chat suddenly lights up like we’re all on fire: “Guys, we need to submit something.” Oh, really? I’m genuinely shocked. Everyone starts throwing out excuses: “I’ve been so busy!” Busy doing what? Perfecting your Instagram feed? Meanwhile, two poor souls (bless them) actually did something and put together a draft. Was it a masterpiece? Absolutely not. But did I have the energy to argue? Also, no. So, I sighed and clicked “submit.”
Now, here comes the fun part – refining the draft. Oh, the emotional rollercoaster. Denial. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Anger. “Why the heck am I doing this alone?” Bargaining. “Okay, I’ll finish this part if someone else picks up the next one.” Depression. “This is a lost cause, I swear.” Acceptance. “Screw it, I’m done.” The cycle repeats, and I’m almost too good at it by now.
But then, four days before the deadline – surprise, surprise – we need to make a short film. A. SHORT. FILM. Because clearly, an essay wasn’t enough. Why not add a short film to the mix? At this point, I’m ready to grab my hair and scream. One group member is “out of campus.” Yeah, sure. Another is… basically the group’s personal comedian. And the remaining two of us? Oh, we’re the entire crew now. Director? Check. Actor? Check. Scriptwriter? Check. Composer? Ugh, I guess I’ll do that too. At this point, I’m just glad no one asked me to be the camera, too.
Things get… well, messy. We’re two people doing everything, and it was fine for a while – until it wasn’t. Cue a very long message full of frustration and disappointment: “I can’t believe I’m the only one doing anything, guys.” The group finally wakes up like they’ve been hit by a truck. Miraculously, we get something done.
Now, it’s the night before the deadline. We’ve got the film, the narration, the editing… and suddenly, two of the group members decide they need beauty sleep at 3 AM. I swear I could feel my brain cells dying. The rest of us are running on coffee, frustration, and sheer spite. We finish at 6:30 AM, which feels like a personal victory at this point. I am both disgusted and impressed by how we managed to pull this off.
Presentation day. I roll in looking like a hot mess, exhausted and questioning my life decisions. But somehow, we nail it. The film plays, the narration flows, and it’s not half bad. We leave that room feeling like we just won an Oscar. Was it worth it? No. Will I ever do it again? Hell no. But I survived, and that’s the real achievement here. Group projects: 0, Me: 1.
And honestly, I’m just glad it’s over. Because let’s be real – group projects are less about the grade and more about surviving the absolute circus and not losing your sanity in the process. We showed up, barely held it together, and somehow didn’t fail. So yeah, here’s to swearing we’ll never, ever do another group project again – until next semester, when we get sucked into the same mess once more. College, man. It’s a scam.