At Noon, Dan headed for the conference room for his meeting, carrying copies of the minutes from the last meeting that Ms. Smith had previously given him. He did not have a formal agenda to hand out, though.

A few minutes after noon, he began the meeting, with everyone in attendance. “Good afternoon, everyone. This will be a brief meeting. I don’t have a formal agenda today as I just wanted to share some information. Nevertheless, I’d appreciate it if someone would take the minutes.

Vanessa Hunter immediately raised her hand and said, “I’ll do it. I’ll be glad to be the note taker from now on unless someone else wants to do it,” she offered.

“Thanks very much, Ms. Hunter. Any objection? Hearing none you are now our meeting Secretary for as long as you’re willing to serve. I have the minutes from last meeting that Ms. Hunter was kind enough to prepare and will hand them out and give you a few minutes to review them before asking for a motion to approve them.” He passed out copies to his right and left as he said this which were quickly passed around and read. After a couple of minutes when everyone had appeared to finish reading the minutes, he continued. “Are there any corrections, additions or changes anyone would like to recommend?” No one raised a hand. “As there appear to be no corrections needed, can someone make a motion to approve?”

Eric Jones raised his hand and said, “So moved.”

Homer Gashette then said, “I second.”

“All in favor,” Dan asked. A chorus of “aye” went around the table. “Any opposed?” no response. “The minutes are approved,” Dan said, then continued, “As I said before, I just wanted to formally inform you that a new three-month certificate program titled Computerized Office Support Specialist has been approved and should go live in a couple of weeks. I have an ad in this Sunday Times for a part-time instructor experienced in WordPerfect, Lotus 1-2-3, and dBase III. I’ll begin interviews probably by the end of next week. But I wanted to ask whether any of you would be willing to teach any of those courses—DOS is also a part of the first module which is Word-processing using WordPerfect.”

Three hands went up from Ms. Smith, Mr. Haddad, and Ms. Cole, three of his most experienced faculty in computer subjects. “That’s great. Stop by my office when you have a chance, and we can discuss your interest and availability. I should tell you that the first course will run at night starting at 5:00 p.m. If we can staff it in-house, that would be great. Either way, though, I’ll still do the interviewing for part-time faculty as I will need coverage to ensure I have someone on standby for each period if one or more of our colleagues here takes on the additional responsibility when they would otherwise have a free period. And, yes, if you are willing to teach during what is scheduled as a free period, I would make sure you were compensated for the extra class.” He noticed a number of faculty members nodding. Also, if you know any colleagues you can recommend as potential substitutes, please encourage them to apply.

“That’s great. So, when are you leaving us to take on the Directorship of the flagship Manhattan school?” Martha Washington chimed in without raising her hand in a loud voice dripping with sarcasm, causing some audible gasps from the group and all eyes to turn on Dan.

“Who told you I was leaving,” He asked.

“Heard it through the grapevine.” She answered in the same tone as before.

“Well, don’t believe everything you hear, Ms. Washington,” then turning to the group again, he continued “Any other business for today from the group?”

“I’d like an answer, Dean Amor,” she insisted, emphasizing his title and name.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, Ms. Washington. But I’ll tell you since you seem intent on pursuing the issue. I am NOT going anywhere at this time.

“You mean you were not offered the job?”

“I mean what I said: I am not going anywhere. Whether or not I was offered any job, however, is still none of your concern,” Dan was having a tough time dealing with her inexplicable insolence but tried to not show it.

“And can you tell us what benefit you are going to derive from the new program that I happen to know is going to be launched at all of our sister schools with a big media campaign at the same time?”

“I’ll be happy to, Ms. Washington. I will have the satisfaction of knowing that our students will be able to get meaningful training in a three-month period that can get them support positions in thousands of companies across the tri-state area alone—albeit at a much higher cost than I recommended and would have liked.”

“I meant what financial benefits will you get from this miraculous new program you created.” Dan was seething now, and everyone present could see it, not only because of her insolence but because she clearly had connections in at least one of the other schools from a highly placed source—probably a dean or administrator who had been called on the carpet as one of the unintended consequences of his success at getting the new program approved.

“If you must know, Ms. Washington, the sole tangible benefit of my “miraculous new program” as you chose to describe it that accrued to me was an invitation to a free dinner for my wife and myself at a restaurant of my choice. An invitation, for your further information, that I declined.” Then after a pause, he added, “Is there anything further you’d like to know as to the inaccuracy of your grapevine sources?”

She glared at him but said nothing. He could not fathom what he could possibly have done to earn her ardent contempt—other than simply being her dean. But, having had a mediocre evaluation she was on thin ice. And Dan would eventually fire her for insubordination months and mistreatment of students before his resignation.

She reminded him of some of the idiots he had worked with summers during law school at the Pepsi Cola bottling company in Long Island City where his dad worked as a mechanic and, like all favored employees there, was able to get summer full-time work for his children. He had earned five times what a law internship would have paid him for the entire summer simply for throwing empty bottled on a conveyor belt at the bottling plant and was, for the summers, a card-carrying member of the Teamsters Union in that union shop. It was hard work, but that had never bothered Dan who needed the money to help defray his expenses to avoid graduating with more debt than necessary or taking more help from his generous but not wealthy parents. He had seen workers there literally throw parts of expensive equipment into the East River just to “screw the man.” In effect, they only “man” really screwed was him, as one of the parts purposely removed and tossed in the river in his presence from a large, free standing stapling gun he needed to assemble boxes for cases of two-liter sodas left him having to use a hand-stapler that quickly caused blisters to form on his hand for nearly an entire summer. He detested unhappy, entitled people with no skills making at least ten times what they should have been making at the then-prevalent minimum wage, unhappy with their employer and willfully, gleefully sabotaging the plant just because they could. Same mindset as Ms. Washington, he suspected, with a visceral hatred of authority regardless of who occupied any position above them and happily tossing bombs indiscriminately just because they could, like some demented sociopath.

“If there is nothing else, then,” Dan continued, “our meeting is adjourned. Thank you all for your attention.” With that, he walked out as a murmur rose behind him.

He went back to his office to find Katie working at her computer. “Hey boss,” she said as he walked in.

“What are you doing,” he asked, rather than returning the greeting.

“I’m knitting you a sweater for Christmas. What does it look like I’m doing?” She quipped with a wry smile and laugh.

“Go punch in, Katie. Now!”

“Geez, Mr. Grumpy pants, no sweater for you under the tree this Christmas,” she said smiling, but stopped working and leaned back on her chair, giving him an innocent look.

“I don’t want you working without getting paid.” He said.

“How do you know I was working? Maybe I was writing my resignation letter,” she said with an angelic smile.

“Don’t even joke about that. Not this week.”

“Gee, would you miss me?” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. He gave her a genuine annoyed frown, then burst laughing at her look of shock.

“All right, all right. I’ll be a good girl and not start work until 1:01 p.m. after I punch in.”

Dan shook his head as he headed to his chair, with a sheepish smile. She had a way of totally disarming him. And he could not be annoyed at her, even when she was actively and gleefully doing her very best to annoy him. No one had ever had that effect on him before and he didn’t quite know what to make of it. What he did know is that he was both happy and relaxed around her, even if she was busy at work at her desk and he busy at his. He didn’t know why and did not really want to know—maybe it was the water at PEMTI. If so, he’d well “better stop drinking it” he muttered, not meaning to speak out loud.

“Drink what?” she asked, puzzled.

“Oh nothing,” he said, “I’m just not all here today.”

“Hope you’re not coming down with something,” she said, serious this time.

“Me too,” he answered, equally serious, while reaching into his desk drawer for his calendar to see if he had any appointments for the afternoon or evenings. Just then, his phone rang. It was Paula, covering for Taisha at reception for the day. “You have someone here to see you about an interview,” she said.

“I’m not interviewing today—the ad hasn’t even been published yet.”

“It’s just a walk-in.”

“I don’t do walk-in interviews. This isn’t a used car dealership,” Dan answered, annoyed. “Tell him to leave his resume with you.”

“It’s her.” she said.

“I don’t care if it’s a cross-dressing chimp. I don’t do walk-in interviews.”

“O.k., I’ll tell her,” Paula said, hanging up the phone.

“I’d like to see the cross-dressing chimp,” Katie chimed in while typing, not looking back.

Dan shook his head but said nothing. Two minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Katie got up to open it. It was Paula.

“Here’s the resume she dropped off,” she said. “You should have interviewed her. She was very cute.”

“I already have cute. Don’t need any more,” Paula smiled as Katie, back at her typing, dead panned “Thank you, boss," without turning around.

“Not you.”

“Ouch,” Katie giggled.

“That’s not what I meant . . .”

“Geez, Louise, make up your mind, will ya,” Katie again deadpanned with more giggling.

“You are all going to drive me crazy.”

“Here,” Paula said, handing him a sheet of paper. I have to get back to reception.

“Sorry I snapped at you on the phone Paula. Another tough day.” Oh, no worries. Although if it will make you feel any better you can always take me to dinner sometime,” she said grinning at him.

“Oh, go away. Better yet, shoot me.”

“I’ll bring my boyfriend’s gun tomorrow,” Paula said heading for the door.

“I thought he was a driver for your uncle,” Dan said.

“Hey, it’s a dangerous city.” With that, she walked out. Dan shook his head, “definitely something in the water,” he thought.

“Are you also sorry you said I was not cute?” Katie ribbed him as she continued her work, not looking at him. “You hurt my feelings.”

“I never said . . . You are very cute, dammit.” She giggled. “You’re just too easy to torture,” she said.

“And you, you . . . just go punch in now!” he said, leaving the office hurriedly as if he just remembered he was late for an appointment. He wasn’t—just flustered. So, he decided to do a round of both floors to see that everything was as it should be. As he neared one of the classrooms, he noticed one of the sales reps, or “admissions counselors” as they were euphemistically titled, with about five people in tow going into a classroom in session.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Dan asked the rep whose name he did not know before he could enter the classroom.

“I’m doing a tour with prospective clients,” he said, adding “What’s the matter?”

“You can’t disturb a class in session by barging in with a group of people,” Dan said, not hiding his annoyance.

“Why not? How else can they see what’s going on?”

“Why not is that I’m telling you that you can’t do that. As to how else can they can see what’s going on, that’s what the picture windows are for—that in itself is distracting enough.”

“Well, what if they have questions about the class?”

“Well, it’s your job to answer them—not the faculty’s job while they are engaged in lecturing.”

“Mr. Murphy will hear about this,” he said. Jack Murphy was the Marketing Director and the rep’s direct supervisor.

“You can bet he will.” Dan promised.

He then turned to the group and said, “Welcome to PEMTI. I’m sorry about this miscommunication. Enjoy the rest of the tour,” then walked on, leaving the angry sales rep behind.

After completing his otherwise uneventful tour of both classroom floors, he went straight to the Marketing Manager’s office to lay down the law about no classroom interruptions by sales representatives under any circumstance from this point on. A he approached the office, he could hear the sales rep loudly complaining about “who the hell does he think he is” and Jack Murphy’s prompt and equally loud response, “He thinks he is your boss and mine and he’s exactly right on both counts. Pull a stunt like that again and your done here.” And if Dean Amor talks to me about this, you’re gone today.

Hearing that, Dan walked back the way he had come, unseen. He had no intention of embarrassing the Marketing Director or pulling rank to discipline one of the latter’s charges in front of him. Nor did he want the foolish sales rep to lose his job, unless he was too dense to take the lesson to heart and repeated it in which case, he’d insist on his being fired. The message did not need to be delivered and Dan was glad of it.

He was in a better mood when he got back to the office. And the rest of the day went without any further aggravation until he left around 9:00 p.m., after yet another long day.