I sat in the virtual meeting room, my face burning with anger as I listened to Josh, our Research leader, drone on about how he was leaving our research group. It was February, and our defense was just two months away. How could he do this to us?
"Guys, I'm sorry, but I've had enough," Josh said, his voice laced with frustration. "You're not making any progress, and I'm tired of carrying the load. I'm moving to another group."
My anger boiled over. "How can you say that, Josh?" I demanded. "You haven't given us any instructions or guidance. How are we supposed to make progress when we don't know what we're doing?"
I stared at Josh on the screen, my fists clenched beneath the table. What a jerk. He'd thrown tasks at us like they were scraps, vague and confusing, then disappeared without a second thought. And now this? My mind raced, replaying every half-baked instruction he'd handed out.
"Eto na gagawin niyo," he'd say, dumping a task in our laps without so much as an explanation. No structure, no clear steps, just a few words that barely scratched the surface. And now he was saying we weren't making progress? How could we when we didn't even know what the hell we were working on?
Even the damn research title-hindi pa rin namin alam!
"Ako na bahala dun," he'd brush us off every time we asked, his face twisted in impatience. "Basta about gender equality, ganun."
Gender equality? Sure, but what part? What angle? How? Walang proper direction. It was like he was expecting us to read his mind, and when we couldn't, it was somehow our fault.
I clenched my teeth. Sige nga, Josh-paano namin magagawa yun ha?
"Maxine was right," Mark chimed in, his voice firm but tinged with frustration. "And also, you've been MIA for weeks, Josh. Ganyan ba ugali ng matinong leader, ha?"
Mark, one of our group members, wasn't usually the type to speak up like this, but he had a point. Sa totoo lang, he'd been the one holding us together all this time. Whenever we couldn't understand something, it was Mark who explained it-whether it was concepts, deadlines, or what Josh's cryptic instructions actually meant.
Ilang beses na rin naming sinasabi na dapat siya na lang ang maging leader, pero ayaw niya. Being a leader came with a heavy responsibility, Hindi siya handa sa ganun.
Josh opened his mouth, clearly about to defend himself, but Mark wasn't done. He leaned forward, staring right at Josh through the screen.
"You keep saying it's our fault, but where were you? We've been flying blind, man." Mark's voice was low, but there was an edge to it that told everyone he was done playing nice.
Josh shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the rest of us like he was searching for support, but no one spoke. Silence filled the virtual room, heavy and tense.
I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples. The screen seemed colder somehow, like the distance between us made everything sharper.
I wasn't sure what to expect-maybe some sort of apology or at least an explanation. But when Josh finally spoke again, all he said was, "Look, I don't have to explain myself to you guys. I've done what I could. Goodluck nalang sa defense nyo."
With a click, his screen went dark, leaving the rest of us staring at each other in stunned silence.
What the hell? I sat there, staring at the blank screen where Josh's face had just been. My mind was racing, trying to wrap itself around what had just happened. He didn't even bother to explain himself, didn't even try to fix things. Just a half-assed "good luck" and he was gone.
"Walang kwenta," muttered one of our members, their voice dripping with frustration.
"P*tang ina, ang lakas pa niyang mag-volunteer nung naghahanap si ma'am ng leader!" another one spat, disbelief clear in their tone. "Akala mo ang galing-galing, eh hindi naman pala marunong!"
