There is something about how the universe works; it’s how one small mistake can metamorphose into a big mess that it feels like your whole life is about to drown. My name is Dinma, and I definitely learned the hard way that most times, it is the little things we tend to overlook that come back to haunt us in the worst ways possible.
It was the morning of my final year project deadline at the University. The sun had barely risen as I hurried to get dressed. My final year project submission was due that afternoon for final signing and I could feel the pressure rising in me. The work had been completed for weeks, reviewed, rewritten, and saved. Well, it should have been saved, anyway.
I had always been a little disorganized. It’s a lifestyle I had long since embraced. But there was always one thing I prided myself on. It was my ability to always get things done, no matter how last-minute it seemed. I was so good at pulling all-nighters and assembling things in chaos, and I always got results. This pattern worked for me… until it didn’t.
That morning, holding my phone in hand, I sat on the edge of my bed, preparing to head to the school’s shopping complex where we also had a cyber cafe. I had transferred all the necessary files to my phone weeks ago in preparation for this day. Everything was ready, or so I thought; except for one crucial detail: I had completely mixed things up.
I scrolled through my phone’s folders, my fingers were literally flicking in panic, searching for the final year project. But my heart sank as soon as I noticed that the folder containing the file was missing. The panic started building up slowly with just a tickle in the back of my mind. I thought “maybe I had renamed it? moved it somewhere else?” I checked again and again. It wasn’t there. I suddenly burst out laughing. It was a bitter laugh.
My phone had been a storage dump site for my school assignments, drafts, old photos, and random notes I thought I might eventually need; which I’ve never needed. As usual, I had been meaning to clean things up and also delete unnecessary files. In a moment of stress and procrastination, I had gone through my phone the previous night and deleted a lot of old folders, thinking they were occupying too much space and making my phone lag.
But then, using my gut feeling, I remembered. My final year project was in one of those folders. The realization hit me so hard, but I still hoped I could recover it. Maybe the files were in the trash or archived somewhere. But nothing was found. The folder was gone. Completely gone.
Panic was already setting in as I stared at my phone screen. The room walls felt like it was closing in. My mind was racing as I began calculating the impossibility of recovering the file in time. The cyber cafe was going to be closed in a few hours. The submission deadline was crawling closer. I couldn’t breathe. My entire semester of hard work had just vanished because of my carelessness.
I called my best friend, Ellarh, who had been my confidant and sole anchor throughout the final year of chaos. "Ellarh," I said, my voice was shaking, "I think I’ve deleted my project work. I can’t find it anywhere."
There was no sound from her end. I was just waiting for the shout. Then she slowly responded as someone trying not to break anything, "Wait… What? You’re sure?"
"Yes, Ellarh! I’m so sure! I don’t even know what I was thinking. Like, I just… deleted it without checking. Now I have nothing. I’m so done for!"
"Okay, okay, calm down," She said. Her voice was so steady as if she didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. "Let’s think this through. There has to be a way to recover it, or maybe we can get it back from your backup."
I burst out laughing again. Ellarh instantly knew what it meant; I had no backup. No cloud storage. Nothing. I had never bothered myself with that because I thought I always had everything figured out. I could organize everything later, after the deadline, after the pressure was over.
Time ran with the speed of light. I ran from the library to the computer lab, to the school IT support center whilst hoping someone could retrieve the deleted files. But the more I tried, the more my hope diminished. By noon, it was very clear that the file was gone, and I was too late to even do anything on my own.
That’s when I got the call I was hoping I would never have to make. My professor who was also my project supervisor, Dr. Mrs. Okafor, had been one of those strict, no-nonsense types, and I had no idea how she would react to the disaster I had brought upon myself.
"Dr. Okafor, I… I just made a mistake," I said, with a voice that I could barely hear. "I’ve lost my final year project. I accidentally deleted it from my phone. I’ve tried everything, but I couldn’t recover it."
There was no sound, and I thought to myself: “is this the new style of responding to shocking news?” I imagined her shaking her head, probably disgusted by my incompetence. But then she surprised me.
"Dinma," she said, her tone unusually calm, "I cannot extend the deadline. You’ve been given more than enough time to complete your work, and this is unacceptable."
I felt the tears I’d been trying so hard to hold well up in my eyes, but I held them back. "Please, Dr. Okafor, is there anything I can do?"
"Listen to me," she said after a moment. "You have just two options. You can either withdraw from submitting this semester and try again next year, or you can pay someone to rewrite your project. But that’s the only help I can offer you at this moment."
The words hit me so hard. I had no choice. I didn’t want to fall behind and I didn’t also want to waste another year of my life, so I agreed to the second option. With a fallen heart, I arranged for a colleague, someone who had managed to stay on top of things, to rewrite my project for me. I had to pay him a heavy amount for his time, but I was really desperate.
A week later, I submitted the project, barely making the deadline. But the experience had taught me a very bitter lesson that I’ll never forget in a hurry.
Ellarh, who had been my shoulder to cry on through it all, finally sat me down after everything was over. "Dinma," she said, "See, I’ve known you for four years now. You’re so brilliant. But you see this habit of getting things mixed up, of not taking responsibility for the little things; they could destroy you. You can’t keep living this way."
She was right. I had always thought that I could get by on last-minute miracles, and shortcuts. But in the end, it was the little things; the organization, the discipline, the attention to detail that all mattered the most.
That incident taught me a grave lesson and I still carry it with me today. I learned that life is not really just about big decisions or grand gestures; it’s more about the smaller, everyday choices that mould our personality. My disorganization and carelessness cost me so much that no amount of intelligence or talent would undo it. But it also became a turning point in my life.
Since then, I’ve worked hard to improve my habits by organizing my files, setting reminders and keeping a schedule. It has not been an easy process and while it has been a slow one, it’s an ongoing process, and I’ve learned to take control of the small things, so they don’t turn into bigger mistakes.
This was such a gripping read! A powerful reminder that small mistakes can have big consequences. Glad you learned from the experience!
Thanks a lot for reading. And yea it was a bitter lesson indeed.
Thank you for sharing this experience with us, @daeze-winnie. It's the sort of thing most of us can imagine--as a nightmare--deleting an essential file accidentally.
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Thank you!
Thank you so much. I'm really sorry about my lack of engagement recently. I've really been struggling with my health recently but I’ll be out of it soon enough. Thanks for the continuous support.
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