on new professors. "I'm hoping that things will settle down this semester."
Tony laughed humorlessly. "It will never settle down. Academia's a grind, so you just have to find your own approach to dealing with it. I'll tell you a secret." He leaned over across the table. "The more you seem to disdain the process--while completing all the obvious tasks you need to get tenure--the more that people will think you know something they don't. The more they will defer to you. The more you will succeed, through appearing to scorn the scene. By seeming to reject the process, you will triumph over it."
"That's sort of the cat theory of academic advancement, isn't it? The more you ignore your keepers, the more desirable you become?"
"That's it precisely." He took another deep draft of beer. "Enough about this. Tell me about the site."
"Not too much besides what I told you out on the site. We're still getting down to the right levels. The locals, for the most part, our maniacal friend today quite excepted, have been great, very supportive. We'll be out working for another couple of weeks, and then back to classes. I'm extremely hopeful about what we're going to find."
"It is exciting and you should make the most of it, because these opportunities don't come along that often." Tony continued, "particularly since Rick Crabtree wants to give the nonmajors' introductory class to you again this year. Says it will help your tenure review. Though how Lifestyles of the Dead and Famous could help anyone is beyond me." He smiled briefly, meaningfully.
"I always thought of it as Ancient Thrills for Jocks and Jills." I put my glass down carefully. This was great kindness in Tony, to let me know what Rick, who was probably my greatest obstacle in the department, was thinking. "I'll see if I can't offer Chairman Kellerman a more attractive option instead."
"Good idea. You've got a lot riding on this, of course."
"You don't need to tell me. I don't know what I'll do if this doesn't work out," I admitted. "Everyone knows the tenure statistics ..." I laughed awkwardly. "There's not a huge market for slightly used assistant professors out there .. ."
"Look, let me tell you about my field season," Tony offered, as eager to change the subject as I was. "We've been finding just the most..."
We spent the next half hour trading war stories and gossip, a decent end to the day.
". .. and that was when I realized that in addition to telling the new students which plants to avoid touching, I really did have to warn them to use the official, cleared latrine sites. Imagine a snakebite . . ." Tony paused, then chuckled a little into his beer glass. "Well, the poor lad lost all interest in archaeology after that."
"Oh, I can imagine. Poison ivy's bad enough."
Suddenly Tony set his glass down rather decisively, almost impatiently. He reached over and brushed his thumb across my wrist and down my index finger. "Look, will you have dinner with me tonight?"
A thrill ran up that arm and down my spine. I sat transfixed, shocked, disbelieving for the second time today. "Wha-what?"
Tony reddened, but persisted. "Dinner. Would you have dinner with me? I'm asking you on a date."
Startled, I started to snatch my hand away from his, and then imagining what kind of rejection that must look like, I pulled away more gently. "Uh. Tony, thanks, but I'm . . . I'm married, you know?"
He stared at me, swallowed, and looked away, compressing his lips. "No, no I did not know that." Tony exhaled and smiled embarrassedly "I did not know, I'm not in the habit of asking out married women. I didn't see a ring, else I wouldn't have asked."
Now I felt guilty, like an idiot. "No, you didn't. I don't wear jewelry in the field. It's not your fault. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry, really." He looked away, pained.
We sat there, supremely uncomfortable, for an interminable thirty seconds.
"Look," I started hastily. "How about another beer?"
"No, no thanks. I've got to get going." Tony
Tony laughed humorlessly. "It will never settle down. Academia's a grind, so you just have to find your own approach to dealing with it. I'll tell you a secret." He leaned over across the table. "The more you seem to disdain the process--while completing all the obvious tasks you need to get tenure--the more that people will think you know something they don't. The more they will defer to you. The more you will succeed, through appearing to scorn the scene. By seeming to reject the process, you will triumph over it."
"That's sort of the cat theory of academic advancement, isn't it? The more you ignore your keepers, the more desirable you become?"
"That's it precisely." He took another deep draft of beer. "Enough about this. Tell me about the site."
"Not too much besides what I told you out on the site. We're still getting down to the right levels. The locals, for the most part, our maniacal friend today quite excepted, have been great, very supportive. We'll be out working for another couple of weeks, and then back to classes. I'm extremely hopeful about what we're going to find."
"It is exciting and you should make the most of it, because these opportunities don't come along that often." Tony continued, "particularly since Rick Crabtree wants to give the nonmajors' introductory class to you again this year. Says it will help your tenure review. Though how Lifestyles of the Dead and Famous could help anyone is beyond me." He smiled briefly, meaningfully.
"I always thought of it as Ancient Thrills for Jocks and Jills." I put my glass down carefully. This was great kindness in Tony, to let me know what Rick, who was probably my greatest obstacle in the department, was thinking. "I'll see if I can't offer Chairman Kellerman a more attractive option instead."
"Good idea. You've got a lot riding on this, of course."
"You don't need to tell me. I don't know what I'll do if this doesn't work out," I admitted. "Everyone knows the tenure statistics ..." I laughed awkwardly. "There's not a huge market for slightly used assistant professors out there .. ."
"Look, let me tell you about my field season," Tony offered, as eager to change the subject as I was. "We've been finding just the most..."
We spent the next half hour trading war stories and gossip, a decent end to the day.
". .. and that was when I realized that in addition to telling the new students which plants to avoid touching, I really did have to warn them to use the official, cleared latrine sites. Imagine a snakebite . . ." Tony paused, then chuckled a little into his beer glass. "Well, the poor lad lost all interest in archaeology after that."
"Oh, I can imagine. Poison ivy's bad enough."
Suddenly Tony set his glass down rather decisively, almost impatiently. He reached over and brushed his thumb across my wrist and down my index finger. "Look, will you have dinner with me tonight?"
A thrill ran up that arm and down my spine. I sat transfixed, shocked, disbelieving for the second time today. "Wha-what?"
Tony reddened, but persisted. "Dinner. Would you have dinner with me? I'm asking you on a date."
Startled, I started to snatch my hand away from his, and then imagining what kind of rejection that must look like, I pulled away more gently. "Uh. Tony, thanks, but I'm . . . I'm married, you know?"
He stared at me, swallowed, and looked away, compressing his lips. "No, no I did not know that." Tony exhaled and smiled embarrassedly "I did not know, I'm not in the habit of asking out married women. I didn't see a ring, else I wouldn't have asked."
Now I felt guilty, like an idiot. "No, you didn't. I don't wear jewelry in the field. It's not your fault. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry, really." He looked away, pained.
We sat there, supremely uncomfortable, for an interminable thirty seconds.
"Look," I started hastily. "How about another beer?"
"No, no thanks. I've got to get going." Tony
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