Adding more people to the bar was making things worse. The noise seemed to attract the Professor's attention; pulling his focus from me and turning it to the growing crowd. “I say, charming young ladies you have here, really rather charming.” He turned to me for a moment, a lecherous gleam in his eyes. “It seems a shame to have this booth all to ourselves. We should be more generous, share this space with some of these ladies.”
I sought to give him a Serious Look. “Didn't you say you were married?”
“I don't see what that has to do with anything,” he responded. “Besides it looks like you might require some assistance in that regard.”
“I have a girlfriend,” I noted defensively.
“Is she here?”
“No,” I answered.
“Is she likely to be here?” the Professor pushed.
“No.”
He grinned. “Neither is my wife. I'm not saying we're going to pick any of these girls up, not necessarily anyway.” Before I could protest further, he began waving to a pair of young ladies walking nearby that appeared to be looking for a destination. “I say, plenty of room over here if you would care to join us.” After a moment of conferring, they walked over to join us. With a speed that belied the time spent sitting, Professor Smith-Smythe bounded from the booth and to his feet, gesturing grandly towards the seat. He gave me a Look, which encouraged me to rise as well, allowing the Ladies access to the interior of the booth. As we sat back down, we had them trapped.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Of Course It Gets More Complicated
I have no idea why I thought the Professor would only want one drink. I suppose I'd gotten so used to the idea that Professor Smith-Smythe was having such a lousy time that he wouldn't want to linger. We'd have the one, he'd be sick of me and of being in the school, and want to head back to his hotel or whatever.
What I hadn't reckoned on was the power of alcohol to make someone comfortable. I also hadn't reckoned on the Professor's ability to inhale gin. I mean, he clearly had some practice at this task. I very quickly became glad the man had his own money and was interested in paying for his own drinks. I picked up every third drink or so, when I was refreshing my own beverage, and this made me the best chap in the whole of ever. Or something.
While he must have been rather drunk, he remained impressively coherent. This was handy as he became rather chatty. He discoursed on his own facility, the price of gas in Birmingham, the problems he'd had with his wife, how rotten his son is, as well as his belief in the existence of the French. It was a fascinating set of diatribes that I wish I could do justice to here but the beer fades the details.
I lost track of time. People came and went. Suddenly I looked up and it was Happy Hour. When I realized this, I sobered up quickly from fear.
I don't do Happy Hour, not anymore anyway. Happy Hour generally becomes Stumbly Fall-Down Time and that's not very Happy. Not to me anyway. I snapped to attention, did some math, and realized I was in trouble. The place was filling up, the Professor was showing no signs of wanting to depart, and the booze was getting less expensive. I would have to act fast to avoid further trouble.
I tried to make a display of stretching and then finished the last of my beer. “Well, it's getting late sir. Is there somewhere you need to be?”
My 'subtle' attempt to steer him to other tasks failed miserably as the Professor was focused on the waitress that had just pulled up to our table. Over the increasing din I could hear him mutter “Oh I say” in a far too appreciative tone. In all fairness to him, this young lady was rather pleasant looking so it made sense to admire her, only it seemed creepy for him to do so, what with him being married and old enough to be her father and such.
While the Professor may not have heard me, she had done so. “Oh, time to go?” she asked with a polite smile.
“What? Leave?” The concept seemed foreign to the Professor. “Who said such a thing? Him? Man drivels, pay him no attention. Another round my dear.” He keenly observed her departure. Grinning at me, he noted “Wonderful place you've got here.”
I felt very tired.
What I hadn't reckoned on was the power of alcohol to make someone comfortable. I also hadn't reckoned on the Professor's ability to inhale gin. I mean, he clearly had some practice at this task. I very quickly became glad the man had his own money and was interested in paying for his own drinks. I picked up every third drink or so, when I was refreshing my own beverage, and this made me the best chap in the whole of ever. Or something.
While he must have been rather drunk, he remained impressively coherent. This was handy as he became rather chatty. He discoursed on his own facility, the price of gas in Birmingham, the problems he'd had with his wife, how rotten his son is, as well as his belief in the existence of the French. It was a fascinating set of diatribes that I wish I could do justice to here but the beer fades the details.
I lost track of time. People came and went. Suddenly I looked up and it was Happy Hour. When I realized this, I sobered up quickly from fear.
I don't do Happy Hour, not anymore anyway. Happy Hour generally becomes Stumbly Fall-Down Time and that's not very Happy. Not to me anyway. I snapped to attention, did some math, and realized I was in trouble. The place was filling up, the Professor was showing no signs of wanting to depart, and the booze was getting less expensive. I would have to act fast to avoid further trouble.
I tried to make a display of stretching and then finished the last of my beer. “Well, it's getting late sir. Is there somewhere you need to be?”
My 'subtle' attempt to steer him to other tasks failed miserably as the Professor was focused on the waitress that had just pulled up to our table. Over the increasing din I could hear him mutter “Oh I say” in a far too appreciative tone. In all fairness to him, this young lady was rather pleasant looking so it made sense to admire her, only it seemed creepy for him to do so, what with him being married and old enough to be her father and such.
While the Professor may not have heard me, she had done so. “Oh, time to go?” she asked with a polite smile.
“What? Leave?” The concept seemed foreign to the Professor. “Who said such a thing? Him? Man drivels, pay him no attention. Another round my dear.” He keenly observed her departure. Grinning at me, he noted “Wonderful place you've got here.”
I felt very tired.
Monday, October 4, 2010
This Should Be No Big Deal
The campus bar is not large. It's not really meant for large groups of people. It's handy, convenient, but there are so many bars in Milwaukee that there's no need for it to be really large. It goes well with the four lane bowling alley next to it.
Mid-week, mid-afternoon, mid-summer all combined to equal a mostly empty bar. Thankfully it was open as I had said. After I said it would be, it occurred to me that it often closes down during summer for remodeling and cleaning. While business gets slack during this time, it never goes away. Once Professor Smith-Smythe caught sight of the bar, his pace increased. He sped past me, making a bee line for a booth in the back. I gave a smile and wave to Big Ken the bartender who was in the midst of cleaning glasses. He nodded a response and met us at the table. “What can I do for you gentlemen today?”
“Gin and tonic,” the Professor responded. “You needn't be too liberal with the tonic.” He then winked rather obviously.
If this request seemed unusual to Big Ken, he didn't show it. He nodded to acknowledge it and turned to me. “Root beer,” I requested.
The Professor reacted rather energetically to this, forcing Ken to wait. “No, wait, I say, 'root beer'?” He repeated this a few more times, which made me wonder for a moment if he'd never heard of it before. “Dash it, you're not saying you're going to make me drink alone are you?”
“I'll be right here, you won't be alone.” Before he could argue my admittedly pedantic response, I added “I'm not allowed to drink while I'm at work.”
“What the deuce is the point of having an establishment such as this so convenient if you can't have a drink or two during lunch?” He sulked. “I can't drink alone, it's just not done.” A thought occurred to him and he perked up. “Say, you're supposed to be showing me around, right?” I confirmed this was the case. “And this is the end of the tour, yes?” More or less, he was correct. “If that's the case you're done with your work for the day, aren't you?” Triumphant, he turned to Big Ken. “Beer for him.” Being a good man, Big Ken waited for me to confirm this was acceptable before he returned to the bar. I was not fond of the idea, but this was the best mood I'd seen the Professor in and it didn't seem wise to break it. Besides, Cuthbold wants the Professor to have a good time, to go away with a favorable impression of the school, so, in a way, I'm just following orders. It'll just be the one.
One drink never hurt anyone.
Mid-week, mid-afternoon, mid-summer all combined to equal a mostly empty bar. Thankfully it was open as I had said. After I said it would be, it occurred to me that it often closes down during summer for remodeling and cleaning. While business gets slack during this time, it never goes away. Once Professor Smith-Smythe caught sight of the bar, his pace increased. He sped past me, making a bee line for a booth in the back. I gave a smile and wave to Big Ken the bartender who was in the midst of cleaning glasses. He nodded a response and met us at the table. “What can I do for you gentlemen today?”
“Gin and tonic,” the Professor responded. “You needn't be too liberal with the tonic.” He then winked rather obviously.
If this request seemed unusual to Big Ken, he didn't show it. He nodded to acknowledge it and turned to me. “Root beer,” I requested.
The Professor reacted rather energetically to this, forcing Ken to wait. “No, wait, I say, 'root beer'?” He repeated this a few more times, which made me wonder for a moment if he'd never heard of it before. “Dash it, you're not saying you're going to make me drink alone are you?”
“I'll be right here, you won't be alone.” Before he could argue my admittedly pedantic response, I added “I'm not allowed to drink while I'm at work.”
“What the deuce is the point of having an establishment such as this so convenient if you can't have a drink or two during lunch?” He sulked. “I can't drink alone, it's just not done.” A thought occurred to him and he perked up. “Say, you're supposed to be showing me around, right?” I confirmed this was the case. “And this is the end of the tour, yes?” More or less, he was correct. “If that's the case you're done with your work for the day, aren't you?” Triumphant, he turned to Big Ken. “Beer for him.” Being a good man, Big Ken waited for me to confirm this was acceptable before he returned to the bar. I was not fond of the idea, but this was the best mood I'd seen the Professor in and it didn't seem wise to break it. Besides, Cuthbold wants the Professor to have a good time, to go away with a favorable impression of the school, so, in a way, I'm just following orders. It'll just be the one.
One drink never hurt anyone.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
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.”
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.”
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
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.
“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.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
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.”
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.”
Monday, September 27, 2010
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.
At least the gentleman was British. That might be interesting.
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