The Charybdis of Unprofessionism
Music: TV On the Radio: Desparate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes Two days ago on my answering machine was an odd yet not infrequent kind of message: A woman muttering, apparently to another in a room somewhere someplace, incomprehensible strings of muffled syllables which ended with a discernable, "should I report this?" Then she hung up. Although clearly this was a the voice of someone living, I could not help but to think of White Noise, the recent, failed film on "Electronic Voice Phenomena" . . . what if this was a reproach from beyond, a threat from Marty's mother back in sixth grade . . . .
When I was in sixth grade one of my best friends, Marty, was suddenly not allowed to speak with me on the phone when I called. I would always hit the interference of "mother," who would say he wasn't home, and so on. Then one day she said that I should stop calling, that I know what I did and that she could not believe someone that seemed so polite could do such a thing. What thing? Apparently someone had serially prank-called for a week and said some sick things. Apparently it sounded like me. I swear to this day it wasn't me. In any event, there is the fear of both having a vocal double and of the false accusation.
The figure of Marty's mother, however, has metamorphosed and reappeared in my life--well, today--as an assistant dean. The dean of the Evening School, to be exact. She called today to discuss some "business" related to the Evening School, which is currently in the midst of a budgetary crisis.
It's always about crisis, isn't it?
The budgetary crisis is a result of the university basically deciding to kill-off the ES for sucking too many resources from the regular university budget. This effects me because they do not want to pay me for teaching this summer. So I get a call from the dean, saying that although 75 students enrolled in my course, they can only pay me for quarter of that load. She essentially wanted me to teach three classes for the pay of one, two "gratis," implicitly I suspect to signify my solidarity with the adult education movement. Of course, I refused and insisted that I only teach 25 students; that her budget is cut is her problem, not mine.
In any event, here's the kicker: the dean noted that she called a few times earlier this week and was offended by my outgoing answering machine message. She said it was "unprofessional" and that she was very concerned that if a student called (etc. and so on). I won't go into how many ways this offends me, but then I must remember I am in the Deep South, wherein the LSU Parade Grounds were recently planted with 4,000 small crosses in mourning of all those aborted babies . . . .
And after backing out of a compensation agreement, then trying to get me to teach for free, I'm the one that's unprofessional?