Excuses Are The Tools Of The Incompetent Novels & Stories

Jaxson turned and looked at me, and as expected, he began to yell. “Who hired me incompetent hands? Just take a look at the time you are coming to work. It would be even better if you stayed at home. You are over an hour late. How irresponsible can you be? “I was stuck in traffic, sir. “Stuck in traffic? You wouldn't have been if you left your house on time. I hate excuses; that is the main reason why you never get anything done, because you always have something to say. “It will never happen again, sir.

Failure was data. “We will not fail again,” he said. “We will learn our lesson. That boy Thorne made an error; he chose to spill his coin on a single act of conscience. He will be bypassed by our next move. We have better men now — or we will make them into better. We will harness quiet people and make them necessary. We will create a scaffolding of lies so complex that tearing it down will exhaust even their best hearts.”

"Because from here, you look a bit lost. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Not everyone is cut out for this environment." I finally looked up, my neck cracking from the angle. "You know what's interesting?" "What?" "You keep implying I'm incompetent, but I haven't actually screwed anything up yet. I'm just learning a new system. Something you've had five years to master." I leaned back in my chair, which squeaked in protest. "So either you don't believe in learning curves, or you're just fishing for reasons to criticize me. Which is it?" "I'm trying to help."

“People spend their whole lives chasing perfect moments. You created them on demand. Most people can’t do something like this.” “Most people don’t have everything stripped away when one thing goes wrong.” “One thing? Or someone?” I looked at him sharply. “What makes you think someone was involved?” “Because bad things don’t just happen to competent people. Someone usually makes them happen. Incompetence, malice, or occasionally both.” He took another sip. “You don’t strike me as incompetent. Which means someone made your life difficult on purpose.” “You’re perceptive.” “I’m observant. There’s a difference.” He set down his glass. “Tell me something. Before everything went wrong, what was the

Sometimes we would even skip classes and hide in the library, practising our speeches. Just a month had passed since we became friends, but we were already thick as thieves, which we never realized. Whenever we reached class late, we always gave this one same excuse of practising for the upcoming competition. At first, the excuse stuck, but as days passed and the excuse got more frequent and boring, we were scolded and sometimes even punished for our lack of interest in studies. Then, we took a different turn to our excuses. Not only did we say we were practising, but we also mentioned Mr Connors saying we had his permission.

I replied coldly, “Firstly if your boss really valued you, he wouldn’t have let you go. Saying your proposal was excellent was probably just polite talk. “Secondly, everyone knew the deadline was before the New Year—you were the only one who failed to submit on time. “I reminded you more than once to send it before 8 PM tonight, and I even told you to submit it by noon just to be safe. “But you? You waited until the very last minute. That’s not bad luck—that’s a lack of competence.” “Thirdly, if your mother and brother hadn’t caused trouble, I could have still submitted your proposal on time—even at the last minute.”

I know what that’s like. It’s not an excuse for his behavior to me or my mom, but I guess it’s a reason. Sometimes having reasons helps make sense of senseless things. “Wyatt has always been incompetent,” Beau says. I glance up at him and find him looking at the photo too. “And a dick. But then, couldn’t you also say the same thing about me?” “That you are a dick, yes. Absolutely,” I say. “But incompetent?”

“How can you ask me for money to start another business, kamir ? How many of your failed businesses have I had to pay for?” I pressed forward to try to hear her answer but could only hear a muffled voice. “Why is it always your excuse? ‘They scammed me! They scammed me!’ Why is it only you people scam?” the minister retorted. “Over 40 years old and nothing to show for it. A wife , no. Children, none. Job, no way. Business, who hasn't scammed you??. You are good for nothing, and you should be ashamed of yourself!”

“Absolutely unacceptable. You’ve been slipping for weeks now, Anna, and I’m tired of covering for you.” “I’m sorry,” I said again, my voice cracking. “I just—” “Enough,” she snapped. “I don’t want excuses. I want competence.” Something inside me finally snapped. “I am competent,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself. “I’ve been—” Grace laughed, short and humorless. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, you’re a liability.” The word hit harder than it should have. I opened my mouth to respond, but instead, a violent cough tore through me. I doubled over slightly, one hand braced on the desk, my chest burning.

"Do you want to explain any of that?" "Piper, I could give you a laundry list of excuses, but that's all they'd be. I promise myself day in and day out I'm going to seize the day, make today the day I conquer therapy, then there's no motivation. I spend as much time writing down the shit I'm not doing as it would actually take to do the exercises and it's still preferable to doing the actual work. I don't have a legitimate reason. I just haven't done it." "I see."