CHARISMATIC MEGAFAUNA

By Quiconque

Crise d�Identit�

Yesterday, as I was hanging out in front of my university, a man stepped up to me and asked, roughly, �So, they got stores in here and stuff?�

�No, there are no stores. This is a university.�

�Oh, what�s it called?� he asked, while looking directly at the 30 foot long banner that proclaims the name of the school in big green letters.

But maybe he doesn�t read English, or maybe his eyesight is poor. So, I told him the name of the university.

Another man at the foot of the stairs overheard our exchange. �Is this a school?� he queried.

�Yes, it�s a school.� I was beginning to think that these fellows were part of a tour group or had come to take part in many of the public events (movie screenings, lectures, etc) that go on in our building. I was also seriously beginning to think that they were from a special needs outreach program. But, aside from their questions, there was really nothing linking them. They were very dissimilar in appearance and demeanor. And the first guy left as soon as the second guy started talking.

Man 2 continued his inquiry, �What school is it?�

I repeated the name of the university.

�What kind of classes do they teach?�

�Graduate classes.�

�What?�

�Graduate classes. Classes for people who are getting their Ph.D.� Anyone who knows me can imagine that I was losing my patience by now.

�Oh,� said Man 2, �are they looking for instructors?�

�I don�t know, sir. Perhaps you should check the website.�

�What?�

�I really don�t know if the university is looking for instructors. You should check the website.�

�You mean there�s no one I could talk to about it today?�

I was about to send him to Human Resources, because I hate them for perpetrating the worst crime against Library Technical Services�forcing us to hire my coworker, Walleyed Wanda�but, I directed him to the security guard desk instead, in case he was a crazy person who needed to be tazed. I also wanted to spread his crazy around, and not be the only victim of his incessant questioning.

My fellow alumni will recall that people would often confuse our university with a similar-sounding state school. Over the years, we read many woeful tracts in the school newspaper calling for a name change, perhaps to something more evocative of the school�s founder, or something that officially acknowledged the fact that the business school was taking over everything on campus. But my old university was never mistaken for a mall.

Part of the problem is that my current school IS in a store. I doubt the first man was even alive when the store was in business, but yes, our university is housed in an old department store. It�s also across the street from a major tourist attraction. So, we often get waves of people wandering in, looking for more packaged New York experiences. (We students try to comply by being a surly and inhospitable as possible, and will even throw in a middle finger for authenticity).

However unconventional our physical plant might be, we�re still a university, and as far as I know from my experience in the academic job market, universities don�t hire walk-ins. I could be mistaken, hence my limited success. Maybe tomorrow I�ll take the train up to Harvard and see if they�re looking for instructors.

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READING: Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

WATCHING: The Apprentice. Trump's hair's getting yellower ea. episode.