Letters of praise

To the administrator who is too afraid of his own employees to effectively administrate:

When my friend scheduled an appointment with you to complain about her supervisor, my former supervisor, you must have been blindsided. I mean, the supervisor had gone through seven assistants in six years, but I was there for almost three years, so it must not have been so bad. And she was often abusive in department meetings, so much so that most people, including your own boss, refused to participate in those meetings, but come on, she couldn’t be that awful. And while she may have had a reputation on campus as a legendary bitch, well, reputations are often built on rumor, not fact. So when my friend came to you, and told you how it had really been working for her, how the woman had driven me away, how she was now abusing the new assistant, how she was ruining my friend’s career with unfair and overly critical performance reviews and personal attacks, how she wandered into the office hours late each morning, reeking of beer, what were you supposed to do about it? Deal with the supervisor? Ask her to change her behavior? Tell her to check into rehab? Ask her to step down? No. Not at all.

You did what any suit would do when faced with such a problem – you offered to reassign my friend to another department. And for not sugarcoating anything, for teaching my friend a cold, hard lesson about life and telling the legendary bitch who has been making my friend’s life a living hell that my friend, herself, requested the move, well, for that, sir, I salute you.


To the couple who came into the restaurant ten minutes before close last night:

I know what you were thinking: they’re not closed yet. Oh, and look, honey! There are no other cars in the parking lot! We’ll be able to get right in, and it will be quiet and romantic, and we’ll be able to sit and talk. But I also know what you weren’t thinking: Oh, they close in ten minutes. It will take us at least ten minutes to order because I don’t know what I want – Do you know what you want? And then it will take them another ten or so to cook the food and we’ll want salads and soup and that will add another ten and then we’ll want coffee after dinner and we’ll talk about our mundane lives for at least another twenty minutes while the waitstaff cleans up the place and then glares and plots our imminent demise, possibly by food poisoning, because by the time we finally get our overstuffed asses up and pay our check we will have held them up at least an hour when, since there are no cars in the parking lot NOW, it probably means they could go home to their beds just a few minutes after closing time, so maybe we should go to the Ihop down the street. They’re open all night.

For thinking the first thing, and not the second, you are my heroes. Thank you. Come again.


To the graduate student who was the last one admitted to the program, after everyone else had turned it down, and who nevertheless thinks she is the shit:

You are my favorite. I know I shouldn’t have favorites, but I do. Could this be because I have only seen the others one time each, and can not distinguish one from another, so you, by default, must be the favorite? Could it be that in the two weeks since you first stepped on campus, you have visited my office no fewer than twenty-nine times, and each time you make yourself at home, dropping your book bags on my floor and sinking back into the chair on the other side of the desk, ready to hang out like we are old friends? Or could it be that you keep me on my toes, that you apparently stay up into the wee hours, thinking up new and interesting ways to ask the same question again and again and again? Could it be because you were the only one with sense enough to complain about the unlockable drawer in the fourth generation desk in the makeshift GTA office space in what was formerly a hallway, when obviously we have so much more to offer you? Perhaps it is the fact that you helped me to be a better employee by going to one of my coworkers and then another coworker and finally my boss when I did not give you the answer you wanted.

Or it could be that today, while walking down the hallway with your employment packet in my hand, I found myself unable to stifle a sneeze, and when I had to use your paperwork to block the spray, I had a secret moment of perverse joy in an otherwise crappy day. For that, I thank you. Really.

Conversations I wish I could finish otherwise

So it's the first administrative week and the first week of classes, which basically means it's the week that the former occupants of hell escape their fiery grave and drag the brimstone up with them. Okay, it just means the faculty and students are back and the "livin is easy" summertime is over. Either way, I've been busy. Very, very busy.

The first three days of this week I spent helping the faculty get ready to teach. They spent most of their days in meetings, while I spent mine stocking up on supplies, setting up copier codes, retrieving forgotten copier codes, issuing keys, ordering keys, ordering name plates, retrieving passwords, setting up mailing lists, setting up mail boxes, processing last minute hires, re-setting up mailing lists and mail boxes, and moving furniture. Then yesterday, classes began and the students returned. A partial transcript follows:


Lost Student #1: (standing in front of door with signs reading “2079” above and beside it) Can you tell me where 2079 is?
Me: Right behind you.
Lost Student #1: Thank you.
Me: No problem.


Mother of a student: I want to know why my daughter didn’t get into your graduate program.
Co-worker: I can’t give you specifics. I can only tell you that there were many qualified applicants this year.
Mother of student: Well, what am I supposed to tell my daughter?
Co-worker: I imagine you’d say what you normally say to someone who is disappointed.
Mother of student: Well, how many international students did you guys let in?


Really Lost Student: I can’t find my class. It says it’s in 2083, but it’s not there.
Me: Okay, do you have your schedule with you?
Student: (hands over schedule) It says Math 131 in room 2083.
Me: It says this class starts at 9:30.
Student: Right. I went in there, but it was a statistics class.
Me: It’s 8:45 now.
Student: But the people who are in there are from another class.
Me: Right.
Student: They all just looked at me when I walked in there.
Me: That’s because they were in the middle of class.
Student: But my class doesn’t start until 9:30.
Me: Right.
Student: So there’s another class before mine?
Me: Right.


Lost Student #2: I’m looking for 2079.
Me: Right behind you.


Lost Student #3: Can you tell me where room 213 is?
Me: Sure. Do you have your schedule?
Lost Student #3: (irritated) It says “Temple 213”
Me: This is Oliver Hall.
Lost Student #3: Then why am I in here?
Me: I couldn’t tell you.


Lost Student #4: I’m looking for my math class.
Me: Sure, what class.
Lost Student #4: I’m not sure.
Me: Can I see your schedule?
Lost Student #4: I don’t have it with me.
Me: Do you know what course it is?
Lost Student #4: No.
Me: How were you going to get there?
Lost Student #4: (looking through notebook) I wrote down the room number. 324.
Me: That’s not in this building. Did you write down the building?
Lost Student #4: No.


Co-Worker in charge of Science Day tables: Can I help you with anything?
Student: No. I already know everything you’re talking about.
Co-Worker: Great! The line for the Nobel forms on the left.


Me: Can I help you?
Lost Student #5: Room 2079?
Me: Right behind you.


New Graduate Teaching Assistant: I need a key to my desk.
Me: Those are hand-me-downs from years ago. We don’t have any keys. I'm sorry.
New GTA: One of the old TA’s gave me a key for the top drawer.
Me: That’s great. But I don’t have any other keys.
New GTA: But I need one for the bottom cabinet.
Me: Maybe another graduate student has one. We don’t have any. They’re old desks. I don’t even have keys to my own desk.
New GTA: But I need to lock up my purse.
Me: Why don’t you use the drawer you found a key for?
New GTA: I want to lock it in the bottom drawer.
Me: I don’t have any keys for that.
New GTA: Then what do I do with my purse?


Lost Student #6: Where is room 2079?
Me: The door behind you.
Lost Student #6: Oh. Well they should put up signs!
Me: Like that one?
Lost Student #6: Oh.


Student on phone: I need to speak to Professor Smith.
Me: We don’t have anyone by that name here.
Student on phone: Professor Smith?
Me: Do you know what department he or she works in?
Student on phone: Physics.
Me: You’ve reached the Math department.
Student on phone: Right. (Sighs) And I’m looking for Professor Smith.
Me: In the Physics department.
Student on phone: Right!
Me: Let me transfer you to the Physics Department.


Me: (to coworker) I may have to strangle one of my graduate students.
Co-worker: (without looking up from her desk) Do what you gotta do.
Me: Maybe a couple of other people too.
Co-worker: Your call.
Me: Just needed permission.