Woe is me, I got my first B

It was bound to happen eventually but I got a B. Actually, two B's. One in Supervision and one in practicum (because I didn't have time to work at the food bank last semester).  I hated the supervision instructor. He wasn't fond of me either. Admitting that he once (many years ago) fired a cocktail waitress because she wouldn't sleep with the hotel owner didn't exactly endear him to me. Later in the semester he made a wizecrack about the feminist movement so I made a smart ass comment  that because of feminists, his DAUGHTERS would never be fired for refusing to sleep with the boss. He winced but got the point. All things considered, I guess I'm lucky that I got a B. At least I got an A in my quantity class, International Cusine. I hated supervision but I do credit the class for getting me out of the dreaded pastry department. We learned that it's easiest to move up (or in my case over) if you train your replacement. So I did and I did.