below 175. She didn’t see a lot of difference between Mary Beth’s intelligence and that of her cat.
“Well, I saw him at the end of his run,” said Mary Beth, trying to clear up the confusion. “He’s a really good runner. But, it was before the seminar, which started at two. And it was before I saw that graduate student, what’s her name…Antiga…no, that’s not right …well, whatever. She left here crying her eyes out something awful just before two. I guess economics isn’t, like, happy, smiley faces all the time.”
“Thanks for your help today, Mary Beth,” said C.J., as she left the secretary’s office looking thoughtful.
*****
FROM: Charles Covington III
TO: All faculty
SUBJECT: RE: Edmund DeBeyer Memorial Foundation
Walter,
I never liked the bugger. I’m not serving on any committee to help his egotistical, self-serving foundation. I think it is a travesty the thing is getting precious department space.
You can absolutely count on me to give you zero support on this.
Charles Covington III
*****
Betsy recognized the young woman from the economics department. The girl looked sad. No, not sad. Worried. It had been many years since Betsy Williams had been a young, slender graduate student. So long, that only Charles Covington III had been in the department when Betsy was studying for her Ph.D. at Eaton University. But Betsy still remembered the life of a graduate student. There had been so much stress and so many expectations.
Betsy picked up her coffee order and eased her large frame next to the young girl. “Do you mind if I share the table?”
Annika looked up, startled. “Oh. No, no. No. I don’t mind.” Politeness dictated her answer, though her body language indicated she would much rather not share her table with this hulking mass of cellulite that was expanding and perspiring in the most unflattering manner due to the humidity.
Betsy pushed the co nversation. “My name is Betsy Williams. I teach for the econ department.”
“Oh. You are a p rofessor?” Annika’s tone changed immediately. Good-bye melancholy loner. Hello friendly professional. This woman could be the reference that landed the job that would start her career. “I am Annika Jonsdottir. I am a graduate student for econ.”
“Nice to meet you Annika. But no, I’m not a professor. I’m an adjunct instructor. I just teach classes.”
“Oh. Okay.” The slump was beginning to return to the young woman’s shoulders. There was no need to fake cheer and enthusiasm for an adjunct. An adjunct could do nothing for her.
“Yes. It is okay. I like my job.” Betsy thought it was good to start this message early with gradu ate students. Too often, she had seen them take the jobs that they were expected to take, rather than the ones they wanted. “But are you okay? I couldn’t help noticing you looked a little worried or upset.”
Annika shook her head and looked intently at her cup of coffee.
“Yoo-hoo, Betsy!” A loud call echoed across the coffee shop.
Both Betsy and Annika looked up and saw C.J. across the room, waving at Betsy.
Betsy turned to Annika. “Well, obviously and not very quietly, my friend has arrived. But if you ever need to talk, you can find me. I was a graduate student myself once. I know if you don’t learn to lever the expectations, they can crush you.”
Betsy hefted herself out of the chair and patted Annika on the arm. As she walked away, tears began to slide down Annika’s cheeks.
*****
“That poor girl,” Betsy said to C.J. “She is not coping. What are you doing to those dear graduate students?”
C.J. glanced over Betsy’s shoulder to look at Annika, but the young girl was packing up and leaving. Troubled souls weren’t C.J.’s strong suit. “I don’t know what’s going on. Boy troubles maybe? I think Jose stood her up last week. But really, Betsy, we have bigger issues to worry about right now.”
“Of course. Of course. How is your lemon hunt
“Well, I saw him at the end of his run,” said Mary Beth, trying to clear up the confusion. “He’s a really good runner. But, it was before the seminar, which started at two. And it was before I saw that graduate student, what’s her name…Antiga…no, that’s not right …well, whatever. She left here crying her eyes out something awful just before two. I guess economics isn’t, like, happy, smiley faces all the time.”
“Thanks for your help today, Mary Beth,” said C.J., as she left the secretary’s office looking thoughtful.
*****
FROM: Charles Covington III
TO: All faculty
SUBJECT: RE: Edmund DeBeyer Memorial Foundation
Walter,
I never liked the bugger. I’m not serving on any committee to help his egotistical, self-serving foundation. I think it is a travesty the thing is getting precious department space.
You can absolutely count on me to give you zero support on this.
Charles Covington III
*****
Betsy recognized the young woman from the economics department. The girl looked sad. No, not sad. Worried. It had been many years since Betsy Williams had been a young, slender graduate student. So long, that only Charles Covington III had been in the department when Betsy was studying for her Ph.D. at Eaton University. But Betsy still remembered the life of a graduate student. There had been so much stress and so many expectations.
Betsy picked up her coffee order and eased her large frame next to the young girl. “Do you mind if I share the table?”
Annika looked up, startled. “Oh. No, no. No. I don’t mind.” Politeness dictated her answer, though her body language indicated she would much rather not share her table with this hulking mass of cellulite that was expanding and perspiring in the most unflattering manner due to the humidity.
Betsy pushed the co nversation. “My name is Betsy Williams. I teach for the econ department.”
“Oh. You are a p rofessor?” Annika’s tone changed immediately. Good-bye melancholy loner. Hello friendly professional. This woman could be the reference that landed the job that would start her career. “I am Annika Jonsdottir. I am a graduate student for econ.”
“Nice to meet you Annika. But no, I’m not a professor. I’m an adjunct instructor. I just teach classes.”
“Oh. Okay.” The slump was beginning to return to the young woman’s shoulders. There was no need to fake cheer and enthusiasm for an adjunct. An adjunct could do nothing for her.
“Yes. It is okay. I like my job.” Betsy thought it was good to start this message early with gradu ate students. Too often, she had seen them take the jobs that they were expected to take, rather than the ones they wanted. “But are you okay? I couldn’t help noticing you looked a little worried or upset.”
Annika shook her head and looked intently at her cup of coffee.
“Yoo-hoo, Betsy!” A loud call echoed across the coffee shop.
Both Betsy and Annika looked up and saw C.J. across the room, waving at Betsy.
Betsy turned to Annika. “Well, obviously and not very quietly, my friend has arrived. But if you ever need to talk, you can find me. I was a graduate student myself once. I know if you don’t learn to lever the expectations, they can crush you.”
Betsy hefted herself out of the chair and patted Annika on the arm. As she walked away, tears began to slide down Annika’s cheeks.
*****
“That poor girl,” Betsy said to C.J. “She is not coping. What are you doing to those dear graduate students?”
C.J. glanced over Betsy’s shoulder to look at Annika, but the young girl was packing up and leaving. Troubled souls weren’t C.J.’s strong suit. “I don’t know what’s going on. Boy troubles maybe? I think Jose stood her up last week. But really, Betsy, we have bigger issues to worry about right now.”
“Of course. Of course. How is your lemon hunt
Similar Books
