his first lecture.
In his office, realising there would be no time for coffee, he was just thinking that things could not possibly get any worse…
‘So are you going to tell me precisely what the problem you have with me is?’
No knock. No warning. No – do you have a moment . Just Anna standing in his office, face fuming.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I was wondering, professor, if you were going to have the decency to tell me to my face precisely what I have done wrong?’
Max was temporarily struck dumb.
‘No?’ She had widened her eyes – a ripple of lines on her forehead as her brows stayed high. Furious.
Oh right. The email .
‘Look, Anna. If you’re unhappy about the email, I can talk to you later about that. It’s just I’m running late…’
‘And funny how you are always running late. Every time, every single Wednesday for as long as I can remember when I have been trying my very best to make a fresh start and a good impression here. Putting in God knows how many extra hours to try to make a real go of this. Looking to you – my supposed mentor – for some support. Some feedback. Some small encouragement. And not only do I get none of those things but I get in this morning to a one sentence email bumping me to another mentor. To Frederick fecking Montague. And we both know precisely what that means.’
‘Frederick is a fine professor. And a respected colleague...’
‘And two years off retirement. With no influence, no ambition, no interests in the politics of this place, which we all know is everything these days – and absolutely no interest in my future. Which is clearly something you have in common.’
‘I think that’s enough, Anna.’
‘Well for your information, I have only just begun. I’m taking this straight to HR, Professor Dance. You are not going to get away with this.’
And now Max felt the blood drain from his face. H fucking R.
‘Look Anna. I transferred you to Professor Montague’s team precisely because I have a real interest in your future here. I just felt I was not the best person to take forward the enormous effort and enthusiasm you have shown already for this new role. My other responsibilities make it difficult, at this time, to give you the time you clearly want and need. I’m not the right person. The right mentor. Professor Montague has more time.’
‘And why couldn’t you have at least discussed it with me?’
Max took a deep breath. He looked at Anna and for a split second considered saying it out loud.
‘Anna. Can I ask you to just give me some time on this? Before you take it to HR. To allow me to properly explain myself.’
She looked at him intently – no sign of calming down at all.
‘Can we meet back here, Anna? One o’clock?’
She looked away towards the window and then back at him – eyes still fuming.
‘I will not be fobbed off. I may have come from what you all sneer at as a former poly but I am a good lecturer.’
Shit. So that was what she thought .
‘I will not have my efforts and ambitions here compromised just because of sexist, cliquey, old-school—’
‘I think that’s quite enough, Anna.’
And only now did she finally flush just a little bit.
‘One o’clock, Anna? I am running late for a lecture,’ he stood up, reaching for his jacket from the stand alongside his bookcase, deliberately keeping his eyes turned away from her. ‘Back here at one o’clock.’
And then she was gone, slamming the door behind her.
Max went on to deliver what was quite possibly the worst lecture of his life. A comparison of anti-trust laws. Different approaches by different countries to trade and monopolies. A lecture so badly focused that even his favourite students looked bemused. At one point, Max lost his way so very obviously that he had to feign the symptoms of a cold to excuse the fuddle.
Never mind, he was thinking whether legislation should or should not be controlling the growth of Google – what the hell am I going
In his office, realising there would be no time for coffee, he was just thinking that things could not possibly get any worse…
‘So are you going to tell me precisely what the problem you have with me is?’
No knock. No warning. No – do you have a moment . Just Anna standing in his office, face fuming.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I was wondering, professor, if you were going to have the decency to tell me to my face precisely what I have done wrong?’
Max was temporarily struck dumb.
‘No?’ She had widened her eyes – a ripple of lines on her forehead as her brows stayed high. Furious.
Oh right. The email .
‘Look, Anna. If you’re unhappy about the email, I can talk to you later about that. It’s just I’m running late…’
‘And funny how you are always running late. Every time, every single Wednesday for as long as I can remember when I have been trying my very best to make a fresh start and a good impression here. Putting in God knows how many extra hours to try to make a real go of this. Looking to you – my supposed mentor – for some support. Some feedback. Some small encouragement. And not only do I get none of those things but I get in this morning to a one sentence email bumping me to another mentor. To Frederick fecking Montague. And we both know precisely what that means.’
‘Frederick is a fine professor. And a respected colleague...’
‘And two years off retirement. With no influence, no ambition, no interests in the politics of this place, which we all know is everything these days – and absolutely no interest in my future. Which is clearly something you have in common.’
‘I think that’s enough, Anna.’
‘Well for your information, I have only just begun. I’m taking this straight to HR, Professor Dance. You are not going to get away with this.’
And now Max felt the blood drain from his face. H fucking R.
‘Look Anna. I transferred you to Professor Montague’s team precisely because I have a real interest in your future here. I just felt I was not the best person to take forward the enormous effort and enthusiasm you have shown already for this new role. My other responsibilities make it difficult, at this time, to give you the time you clearly want and need. I’m not the right person. The right mentor. Professor Montague has more time.’
‘And why couldn’t you have at least discussed it with me?’
Max took a deep breath. He looked at Anna and for a split second considered saying it out loud.
‘Anna. Can I ask you to just give me some time on this? Before you take it to HR. To allow me to properly explain myself.’
She looked at him intently – no sign of calming down at all.
‘Can we meet back here, Anna? One o’clock?’
She looked away towards the window and then back at him – eyes still fuming.
‘I will not be fobbed off. I may have come from what you all sneer at as a former poly but I am a good lecturer.’
Shit. So that was what she thought .
‘I will not have my efforts and ambitions here compromised just because of sexist, cliquey, old-school—’
‘I think that’s quite enough, Anna.’
And only now did she finally flush just a little bit.
‘One o’clock, Anna? I am running late for a lecture,’ he stood up, reaching for his jacket from the stand alongside his bookcase, deliberately keeping his eyes turned away from her. ‘Back here at one o’clock.’
And then she was gone, slamming the door behind her.
Max went on to deliver what was quite possibly the worst lecture of his life. A comparison of anti-trust laws. Different approaches by different countries to trade and monopolies. A lecture so badly focused that even his favourite students looked bemused. At one point, Max lost his way so very obviously that he had to feign the symptoms of a cold to excuse the fuddle.
Never mind, he was thinking whether legislation should or should not be controlling the growth of Google – what the hell am I going
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