So today I did something awful in the workroom. In spite of the fact that I was totally slumming it today, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt (OK, it has pretty little flowers on it), I sat at my desk and watched some of my colleagues while they were grading papers. Shame on me for tearing them apart here.
That was the extent of my remorse. What follows is the report on my observations:
In the corner by the window is the attractive guy in the department. Super nice, a writer, married--and perpetually hiding from the crazed, heterosexual feminists in the department. Who could ever imagine that a militant lesbian could be a lesser threat?
In front of me is a really funny history professor. We've had some good conversations over the years. Clever. Intelligent. A good conversationalist. He keeps getting up and going to his classroom next door. How did he get so lucky to teach next to our office? I like him, but after 5 years, I've never bothered to find out his name. Maybe I'll get around to introducing myself--in another 5 years. I wonder if he knows my name?
Then there's the real estate agent. She's always working on a deal in the office. She teaches English, but I've never seen her students. I'll give her points for being slick, though. She passed out her business card to the adjuncts on the pretext that we might need to call her sometime if we need a sub. Did I say slick?
I've left the best for last because I still can't believe it. The woman sitting next to me has some audio program on her laptop that makes it sound like an old manual typewriter going a mile a minute. The volume is on high, too, but even if wasn't it would annoy the hell out of me. Why in the world would anyone put that sound effect on the computer? Does she think it makes her sound like a writer? Admittedly, writers have some odd quirks, but I draw the line at that little pretend game.
It must be to drive people away, and it worked! The old guy that had his feet propped up on a desk, taking a nap, woke up and gave her a dirty look before getting his stuff and leaving.
I stayed. It was way too much fun watching the others give her the evil eye. If it wasn't for my high entertainment value, I might have been the one to ask her to mute the computer, as I've been risking my life lately by calling people on their rudeness.
Meanwhile, my friend the nameless conversationalist shared an essay exam with me. He is perplexed that the student has signed the essay at the end, a la Hancock. What could it mean?
Who knows? It's just another day at the office. Makes me look forward to class.