Things Start to Look Up

Despite his lack of interest, I had to keep him out and about for awhile. Even the short version of the tour takes some time and, if we returned too soon, Cuthbold would know there had been a problem. I did my best to keep things moving and energetic but Professor Smith-Smythe's visibly growing boredom fought against my cheerfulness.

This came to a head as I led him from the Samson building towards Zeidler. He released a mighty sigh that caused me to turn to him. “I am sorry. I've been on a number of these tours before and the buildings just don't change much. I mean, one classroom looks much like the rest.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” I noted, “we are almost done.”

He grinned. “It does actually, yes.”

Encouraged by this, I added “This is the 'fun' stuff I save for last. This building has the cafeteria, the studios, the bar...”

I was stopped at this point, both in my speech as well as in my pace. This concerned me slightly. Being outside on this hot, humid day was unpleasant and I desired the air conditioning within. “I'm sorry, do I understand you to say that there is a public bar within that building? On campus?”

It wasn't clear to me what his opinion of this statement happened to be. I responded instinctively and truthfully. “This is Wisconsin; we have bars everywhere.”

“Really? What a remarkable land. Why have I never visited before?” Perhaps instinctively he licked his lips. “Any chance it's open at the moment?” I nodded. Its mid-afternoon, of course its open. “In that case, why are we standing around here?” He strode off quickly, forcing me to step quickly to keep up. “You should have started the tour there. And ended it there as well.”

That Could Have Gone Better

“Is there anything in particular you'd like to see on the tour?” I asked after we got moving.

“Yes,” he noted aloud, nearly to himself, “the end.” A moment later, his eyes opened wide. “I said that out loud, didn't I?” I nodded. “Dreadfully sorry. Didn't mean it quite like that. I've been on this type of tour before you see and much of it becomes rather the same rather quickly. 'This is a hallway. This is a computer. Two hundred years ago, on this spot, a famous author once took a nap and here's the statue we have of the event.'” He shook his head. “Becomes rather trying.”

“Ah,” I noted seriously. “I suppose you won't be interested in seeing the garbage can Mark Twain once used, huh?”

He looked at me in horror. “Good Lord! You don't mean...?”

My smile formed almost immediately. “Just kidding. Couldn't resist.”

“Yes, well,” he grumbled. “Next time try a little harder to resist, hmm?” I coughed, erased the smile from my face, and apologized. We continued on.

The Professor

I don't brown nose well. I'm friendly. I will tease if the relationship is there. I will compliment if appropriate. I don't crawl to curry favor. I don't see the point. If you cultivate a supervisor in that way, then the supervisor will get promoted or move departments or go to another job or something and now you've wasted all that time. I strive to be respectful and friendly to everyone, no matter their position relative to me. What's the old expression? You meet the same people on the way up that you meet on the way down. Or something like that anyway. It's not productive to kick the people below you and kiss the people above you. In a year, their positions could be switched. And then where are you? Stuck, that's where.

What was my point again? Oh, right, I don't brown nose well. As I watched some of my colleagues swarm Professor Smith-Smythe I became politely annoyed. I had things to do and sitting here watching them kiss his butt hadn't been on my to-do list. Eventually it settled down and we had out pointless, pointless meeting. The department heads all got up and explained how awesome they and their department happened to be.

Was I expected to give a presentation? Why of course. Good thing I had a copy on my portable drive. I did my best to keep it brief. That seemed to be a good choice. Professor Smith-Smythe's eyes glazed over at the abbreviation 'PC'.

Once everything was done and we were done patting ourselves on the back, the official meeting ended and they returned to sucking up to him on a one-to-one basis. I got bored and turned my attention to the snack table.

Midway through cramming the last bit of donut into my mouth, Cuthbold brought him over to meet me.  Thankfully it was only powdered sugar, not like I had fingers of jelly, and it was easily dismissed before I shook his hand. Upon hearing my name he looked puzzled but then suddenly blurted out “Oh yes, the computer chappie. Yes, yes, I remember now. Excellent presentation you gave. Didn't understand much of it I'm afraid. Not terribly technical you know.” His accent was very British, rather proper but with a slight hiss or lisp.

“Not to worry,” I reassured, “not many people are. Generally speaking most people are comfortable turning their computer on and accessing their email. Anything beyond that leads them to calling me.” I tried to chuckle and lighten the mood, but just became paranoid that I'd managed to offend him. Cutting off the laugh before it became too nervous, I continued “Are you ready to begin the tour now or do you have more to do before we start?”

Professor Smith-Smythe looked at Cuthbold for the answer to my question. Cuthbold beamed. “Whenever you're ready Professor.”

The Professor grinned politely. “Yes, well, no time like the present I suppose.”

Grumping

None of this made me very happy. It was July and it was hot. Most of the school isn't in use at the moment and this is when we get most of our preventative maintenance completed. I had plans for this week and didn't want to derail them to give a tour while sweating in a suit. And tie. In these quiet yet busy days I generally had good reason to dress in jeans and a t-shirt without getting comments about the dress code. I had planned on not even shaving this week. This was going to be frustrating.

At least the gentleman was British. That might be interesting.