occupational hazards
One enjoyable aspect of my job is its connection to academics. It’s like a window into a world of what could have been if I had not been denied admittance into the top tier schools I so haphazardly selected to apply to after college.
Earlier this week, we were visited by one of our scholars. He arrived wearing black dress shoes, navy dress socks, khaki camping shorts and a Pittsburgh Steelers t-shirt. I don’t know if he was just sending some sort of covert message like “Ha ha, Indianapolis lost their ticket to the Super Bowl last year to the Steelers” type of jab. Or “98% of my brain is used to research international ethical leadership, so the other 2% is left fighting over whether or not it is socially acceptable to pick my nose and wipe it on your cubicle.”
This disconnect between reality and intellectualism is what I really hoped for in a postgraduate world of academics -- to be so smart that students would have to overlook the bucket of tobacco chew on my floor to be in my presence. That they would have to dismiss the smell of stinky cheese and bourbon emanating from my office.
On the other hand, there are the strange, disturbing mannerisms. We have one student who doesn’t swing her arms when she walks and sometimes eats other peoples’ lunches in the break room. I witnessed her devouring two of my raviolis and put the rest back in the refrigerator (dear god). Also, I’ve been trying to figure out our most recent graduate assistant. Every time she walks by my desk, she breaks no cadence in her walk -- so it looks like a giant head gliding by my desk. Plus, let’s just say she rips some good ones in her cubicle next to mine and doesn’t acknowledge them. Not one “excuse me” or uncomfortable giggle. Just a loud, continuous fart and then typing.
So maybe losing my ticket to postgraduate literature was really a blessing. But then again, I'm walking around with a huge mayonnaise stain on my blouse. So who am I to judge?
Earlier this week, we were visited by one of our scholars. He arrived wearing black dress shoes, navy dress socks, khaki camping shorts and a Pittsburgh Steelers t-shirt. I don’t know if he was just sending some sort of covert message like “Ha ha, Indianapolis lost their ticket to the Super Bowl last year to the Steelers” type of jab. Or “98% of my brain is used to research international ethical leadership, so the other 2% is left fighting over whether or not it is socially acceptable to pick my nose and wipe it on your cubicle.”
This disconnect between reality and intellectualism is what I really hoped for in a postgraduate world of academics -- to be so smart that students would have to overlook the bucket of tobacco chew on my floor to be in my presence. That they would have to dismiss the smell of stinky cheese and bourbon emanating from my office.
On the other hand, there are the strange, disturbing mannerisms. We have one student who doesn’t swing her arms when she walks and sometimes eats other peoples’ lunches in the break room. I witnessed her devouring two of my raviolis and put the rest back in the refrigerator (dear god). Also, I’ve been trying to figure out our most recent graduate assistant. Every time she walks by my desk, she breaks no cadence in her walk -- so it looks like a giant head gliding by my desk. Plus, let’s just say she rips some good ones in her cubicle next to mine and doesn’t acknowledge them. Not one “excuse me” or uncomfortable giggle. Just a loud, continuous fart and then typing.
So maybe losing my ticket to postgraduate literature was really a blessing. But then again, I'm walking around with a huge mayonnaise stain on my blouse. So who am I to judge?
posted by anarchic at 1:10 PM
1 Comments:
Very best site. Keep working. Will return in the near future.
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