Time to decide...
When I was doing my PhD, my department ran a couple of weekly research seminars. On Mondays, there'd be an invited speaker from another university; on Thursdays, it'd be a research student from within the department. There was an expectation that each research student would give a paper each semester on their work in progress. The idea was that you'd speak for 30 minutes or so, and then there'd be another hour to 90 minutes or so of questions. The audience at both seminars would be other research students and members of staff.

Now, the thing to note about philosophers is that they can be extraordinarily rude to each other. Things might be the same in other disciplines - but I think that philosophers have a reputation for being the worst of the bunch. As such, the Q&A sessions could be quite bruising. Obviously, we'd all go to the pub and then for a curry straight afterwards, and there was a generally accepted rule was that there were no holds barred in the seminar room as long as what was said in the room stayed there; nevertheless, this two hours could be very, very painful for the speaker - especially if the speaker was inexperienced. Two or three years in, and you'd be fine... but people new to the game really could suffer.

Inevitably, my turn came around. I'd put it off for as long as possible, but I was going to have to say something about my research. The paper I gave was, in retrospect, terrible. Desperate to make an impression, and irrespective of the fact that I only had a couple of months work done anyway - most of which had been spent reading (and reading in a fairly undirected manner at that) rather than generating anything of my own - I tried to do far too much, and managed to combine being too-clever-by-half with not-being-nearly-clever-enough. I still cringe when I think about it.

It was received with utter, utter, stony silence. The quiet lasted maybe 15 seconds, but it felt like six or seven years.

And then, very slowly, one of the other students put down his cigarette and raised his hand. Twelve years later, his words are still scorched on my memory.
"Enzyme," he said, "From what I understand of your paper - and, believe me, it's not much - it's either utterly trivial or completely false. Which of those is it?"
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 10:07, 7 replies)

That is a thing to be proud of.
I, too, would wear that excoriation with pride.
(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 10:14, closed)

As it happened, I had tickets to a concert by the CBSO that night.
I barely heard a note. I just sat there, staring into space, and shaking slightly.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 10:21, closed)

Blimey, a bit of an sidewinder moment, that.

(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 10:49, closed)

I hope you retorted by explaining how you had previously had sexual intercourse with his mum

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 11:20, closed)

If by that you mean
"looking stricken and silently praying that all this would end while the lecturer who would become my supervisor a few months later took pity on me and tried to pick something worthwhile out of the wreckage", then yes. That's exactly what I did.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 11:39, closed)

"Beyond your understanding, evidently."
( argyleblanket The man on the roof works for me, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 15:22, closed)

^ haha

(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Fri 25 Nov 2011, 15:47, closed)