你曾经请求过别人的原谅吗?如果有，发生了什么?（二）Have you ever begged anyone''''''''s pardon and if so, what happened?
2023-03-24 龟兔赛跑 2979 0 0 收藏 纠错&举报
Have you ever begged anyone's pardon and if so, what happened?
- 你曾经请求过别人的原谅吗?如果有，发生了什么?（一） 2023/03/21 2822 4 0
- 静冈县：伊豆·达摩山进行个人露营的男性准备的饮用水用完请求救助 2022/09/11 6571 10 0
- 埃隆·马斯克出价5000美元，请求佛罗里达州的一名青少年删除一个追 2022/02/01 34800 13 0
- 外国玩家评论原神剧情PV-人间至味：这质量，叫我如何能够不原谅米 2021/10/04 22326 46 0
- 网友：富国拒绝印度和南非豁免新冠疫苗专利的请求 2021/02/09 25020 65 0
What is the saddest thing you experience in life, and why?
One night in the late summer of 2013, I was talking to my mom on the phone. I remember clearly where I was, what I was doing, as this conversation took place. My mom and I had together gone thru the sudden, unexplained death of my older brother and then the prolonged, tragic of my older sister. My mom lost two children within 18 months of each other. My sister had died from diabetes, which she'd fought for all her life. Towards the end she had dementia from her organ failure, from MRSA, and from the meds. Talking to her, hearing her tell me all about being kidnapped and taken to the hospital roof was the most painful, disorienting things I'd ever heard. But I knew where this dementia was coming from.
So during this phone conversation my mom mentioned her lost cat. The cat had gone outside the day before but hadn't come home. She was frantic, worried, putting food out for her lost cat. She missed the cat so much because she loved the cat so much. She asked me what she should do to find the cat.
I told myself it was a mixture of medications which her doctor was wayyyyy overdosing her on and just sheer grief.
About three years later she was diagnosed with Lewy body dementia.
I moved in with her and have been her only caregiver for over five years now. Over this span of time there have been many, many “saddest things I've ever experienced.”
Putting all of her things in paper bags and hiding them to keep them from being “stolen.”
Opening the cabinet where the plates are when she wants to microwave something.
Asking me where her daughter is. (Me.)
Asking whose house she's in. (Hers.)
Saying my dad left one day and she's never seen or heard from him since AND she's considering filing for divorce. (My dad died in 2001.)
Talking to me about my kids, her grandkids, as if they were just acquaintances of mine who stopped in to visit.
And, one of the worst, asking everyone around at our Christmas dinner if she could use their phone to call her mom. (My grandmother died in 1993.)
Everyday I hear and see and experience the saddest things I've ever heard and seen and experienced. Most nights I fall asleep crying from heartbreak and grief.
Have you ever been accused of killing someone?
I have. Once.
Back in 1994, when the events in New Russia forced people off their well-trodden ways into a great unknown and we all have sought our new path in life, there was a time I worked as a gypsy taxi in St. Petersburg, Russia.
It was a common way to raise some money here and now when you had no other job. Due to some events which I’ll leave unmentioned, I had to take a break from my comfortable employment as a software project manager, and go into great unknown. So at the time I’m talking about, I “bombed” (worked as a gypsy taxi, carrying various walks of people in my car during the day, evening and early night, having a crowbar under my seat and hoping to come home alive that night), most of the days raising hardly enough to feed me and my Mom for that day.
I took a passenger. A guy of Chinese appearance, short but muscular. He asked if I can carry him for the day for several meetings and promised quite a good fare (which would be probably 5x my normal earnings for that time). I had to wait for him in certain places, be ready to “step on it”, ask no questions, and be ready to perform “unsafe avoidance” if necessary. I agreed.
The day went relatively smoothly, in a pair of places he just jumped in and shouted “Drive!” and so I did, having parked in a way allowing fast departure. At the end of the day, I had earned some praise from my client for my safe but quite fast driving, and he had invited me for a dinner too (paid by him), which I didn’t refuse, considering deplorable financial state at the moment.
After I parted ways with my fare, having delivered him to his home, I slowly drove home with a nice stack of money in my pocket. I reckoned that the guy was a Brigadier, thugmaster, who went around using different car each day to prevent being whacked by competitors. But I didn’t ask questions, that was the rule.
Let it also be known that I looked lean but muscular, but a bit nerdy due to prescxtion glasses on my nose. My profession, software project manager, suited this look perfectly well.
Fast forward a few days. I’m called by a police department X to come and have a chat. “We have just a few questions about one guy you might know.” No problem, 10:00 sharp I’m with the Officer who invites me to a room. There were three more officers in that room. Suddenly it looked like an interrogation room.
Without further delays, asks me “So, Mr. K, why did you kill Nicky the Chinese?”
Whoops. Holy FUCK, are you FUCKING kidding??!
Me: “You must have confused me with someone else! All I am, am a software project manager, and a software engineer. I know how to write programs. I don’t know how to kill people! I don’t do kill people either! And who the Hell is Nicky the Chinese??”
原创翻译：龙腾网 http://www.ltaaa.cn 转载请注明出处
Me: “I did not. Who is that Nicky??”
Officer: “You know who. A Brigadier of T***** (thugs clan). You wanna see how he was found?” (shoves into my face a grisly photo of a dead guy, badly beaten and half of his face missing. I’m not squeamish, but the photo is disgusting.).
Me: “Holy cow! Who did that to this guy? Where did THAT come from?? And why are you asking ME??”
Officer: “Mr. K, my patience wears thin. Do you want me to “remind” you ? He was found in the waste collector, well tasted by the rats. Do you know this guy or not?”
… I start to realise that this is my fare from before… He introduced himself as Nick, or Kolya in Russian.
I told the officer the story of a fare that goes places and pays well. But I sat in my car all the time, waiting, while he was going places!
It appeared that an elderly lady saw my red Lada I owned at the moment from the window, and wrote down my car registration number. She suspected the guy was playing foul and gladly wrote anyone he talked with. She was sure I was one of the Thugs (I did look quite big, yeah, see my other story…).
Also it looked like I was the last one who saw him alive that evening. He was killed around home that evening.
… I kept insisting on my innocence, told and retold my story. A few details I told had attracted Officer’s attention: The passenger had been calling his wife and arguing a lot during his daily run.
The ardent, pushing tones Officers used initially, gave place to more retired attitude. Looks like they were starting to be convinced that I was just a guy in wrong place, wrong time.
They took me to another police precinct. While I waited in the back seat of a squad car with one of the officers, not cuffed as no charge was formally issued, talking to him in a normal manner, another officer came up and shook hands to my guardian and then to me. I returned the courtesy.
“Hey! What are you doing, shaking hands with him? This is a bandit, a killer!” said my guard laughing. The other officer smirked: “Come off it, stop talking rubbish!”. I said “You are right, I’m not. And you could see it.” Nobody wanted to press their points or show their unwillingness to talk to me.
Two more hours in another precinct. Total of four hours and then some minutes, of interrogation slowly changing into Miss Marple story.
Finally, the Officers seemed satisfied. “We are sorry, Mr K, but you have to understand us. You are probably the last one who saw Nicky alive. And forgive me, but you probably could kill people with your bare hands…
Stay in St Petersburg please, just for a couple weeks, and if we need more information, we’ll call you.”
I called them later to ensure that they don’t need me anymore, because I was done with the thing which had put my life on pause, went back to my old company, was gladly re-hired to my former position, and was about to go back to my normal ways as a project manager, and as a beginning, to take a trip to Kazakhstan to manage a lucrative State Radio project for our company
The police had confirmed they had no questions to me. I asked if they have found the real killer. They said that potentially that murder was committed on behest of his wife. The guy was obviously a rude and nasty person, but it appears that he also was a wife abuser and a wife beater; his wife disappeared, nowhere to be found the next day after the murder, having taken all his money, a car, and her stuff. Very probably a couple of thugs from his team performed her evil command and dealt the guy the final reckoning with a passion. She probably was out of country the same day. Back then, that would mean she would never, ever be caught. Not that anyone cared much about a person who killed a fucking thug.
“And so this story ends”…
I don’t think I was too scared during the process, only really frustrated by even ridiculousness of these accusations. But having thought about it, my charm could well render not enough to talk my way out of it, and my destiny could have changed irreversibly. That was god damn scary, in the afterthought.
But I was in my 20′s, and a month later, already in a different country, on an important project, I probably have forgotten of this story. To remember it now out of the blue, and tell it now to Quorans.
Have you ever bullied someone? If yes, then why?
Yes, I’ve been a bully for a short period of time in elementary school.
I suffered a lot of bullying in my school life. from 2nd grade to 3rd year of high school, I was the main target of all my class. And isn’t just jokes, names and teasing, there’s a lot of violence too.
I remember one time in 7th grade when 2 older, repentant guys and one girl thought it was a great idea lock me on an abandoned bathroom on the back of the school. I used to study on afternoon period and there’s no night period on that school, so, if I get locked on it I will be locked until next day morning. And no, I could not break the door and free myself, I just broke my left arm weeks before it. It was late, and the sun was already set and they started carrying me to back of the school, laughing and cursing me. So, I fought my way out of it. 3 vs 1. Using the plaster of my arm as a weapon. In the darkness. Sometimes I randomly remember this day, the feeling of the plaster hitting their faces, the feeling of my fresh-glued bone-shaking and the nausea I felt because of the pain.
Anyway, I realized a thing about bullying: normally, those who commit don’t suffer. So I picked a target and started to bully him. Cursing, calling names, teasing. I never hurt him physically. I realized that isn’t making the bullying go away. And I was feeling bad. I hated myself. So I stopped. And all of this just made things worse. Because my 2-weeks bullying period, I lost the compassion of people. I used to be a victim, and suddenly I was someone who deserved all those things.
Sorry for my bad writing skills, I’m still learning English by myself.
What is the luckiest thing you've ever done?
I forgot to turn off the lights in my car and killed the battery.
It was a late Friday morning, I’d slept in after a late night out. I was an unemployed teacher, newly divorced, no health insurance, fighting against admitting that the pains in my legs were sciatica due to ruptured discs that needed surgery.
The plan was to get away for a few days, take my kayak up to Canada and go camping on a remote island. Think about life. Run a few rapids. Hike a little. Try to ignore the pain in my body, the emptiness in my soul.
I’d packed everything the afternoon before so I could just get up and get on the road, so I was very annoyed when I turned the key and didn’t even get a click from the starter. I tried the lights, nope. I tried the horn, it made a weak squawk then died. Totally dead battery.
Grumbling to myself, I got the battery charger out of the box marked “garage” on the porch of my apartment and hooked it up to the dead battery in my car. With an hour to kill, I went inside to check e-mails and cruise the net.
There was the usual pile of low priority semi-spam in my inbox, including a notification from the NY state public school teaching job message board. I hadn’t seen anything useful on the site for over a month; it was past the main April/May hiring time and before the August panic. The body of the message didn’t show anything, but on a whim I clicked on it to check out the full listings.
Near the bottom of the list there was an ad for an opening for a Physics(Chemistry/Biology) teacher, 5+ years experience preferred, deadline for applications this coming Monday at 8 AM. Somehow I’d missed hearing about this opening; it had been on the board for almost a month. I checked out the location… rural school, about a half hour away from Albany, in the foothills of the Green/Berkshire/Taconic mountains. My kind of place. I checked out the travel time… about two hours away.
If I could get cleaned up, get my professional things together and get my car to start in less than an hour then I could just about make it there before everyone left for the weekend. If nothing else, I could take a look at the place and I could make sure that my application was on the top of the pile in the principal’s inbox for the Monday morning deadline.
My car didn’t start until after a full hour on the charger, so I got to the school just as all of the kids were stampeding out the door and onto the buses. The first person I talked to out in front of the school just happened to be the principal. He noticed the kayak up on top of my car, and since he is an outdoors-person we hit it off immediately. What followed was the best non-interview interview of my life; I was the man with all of the right answers.
“We’re replacing a third of the staff next year, we could use someone with experience.”
“I’ve been teaching eleven years.”
“This is a rural school. It’s not like teaching in the suburbs.”
“Yeah, the school I taught at was in the middle of the Adirondack Mountains… much smaller than this place actually.”
“The listing says Physics, but the person we hire will need to cover another science. We’re not sure which one right now, either Chem or Bio.”
“Not a problem. I’m certified in all three of those. And Earth Science. And General Science too. And I’ve taught them all. Several times in fact.”
It went like that for the entire hour that I was there, and after it was done I drove away with a very good job in my pocket, the day before it was going to go away. After ten years in this job I still think I am one of the luckiest teachers in New York State. I have a great administration (both are former science teachers), a very supportive community, easy students to work with, excellent co-workers, a great workspace, lots of materials and supplies, and the freedom to innovate. Every morning I wake up to fresh air and a view of the mountains. My commute to work is 5 minutes by car, 8 minutes by bike, and 10 minutes by hiking through the woods. I do not need to lock my house when I leave, or lock my car or my bike on the end of the commute. I live close enough to a city that I can get a dose of culture or find things that I need when I want them, but far enough away that I don’t have to deal with the drawbacks of urban or suburban life.
Ten years later I still think that I’ve found my perfect job.
And if my car had started that morning, I’d never have found it.