Every late spring the institutes of higher learning ceremoniously graduate that year’s edition of Goddess In Training. These novices fan out from the universities and infiltrate neighborhoods and locales far and wide to engage in the customary ritual of aggressive and comprehensive research into the world at large. Most of them, typically those with high ambition and curiosity, select a professor to serve as mentor and advisor for their further doctoral studies.
She was still flushed and confused after her release from academia onto the public stage, and saw on a bulletin-board a scrap of paper advertising a job relating to her field of study. The employment offer mentioned good pay and a credentialed professor included gratis, in exchange for the performance of mundane and rote computer tasks required by the professor to facilitate his own academic research. ‘The pay would be good and I need a professor for dissertation research!’ she thought, then texted a carefully worded response, and was shocked to hear her phone ring a few minutes later. They spoke briefly and agreed to meet in a few days at the bistro on St Clair for a more thorough discussion and interview.
The professor sat waiting for her, impatient and already concerned because she was 3 minutes late for the interview- not a good sign in his view. He’d hoped she’d be at least 5 minutes early as simple courtesy and recognition of her status and station. He was on the cusp of elder status himself now so was in no mood for anything less than exacting and appropriate decorum. As he enjoyed a smoke and ruminated, his peripheral vision beheld movement of a rather well appointed salacious gal walking past.
‘Damn!’ he thought, ‘So young, but nice! Surely that’s not her.’ He watched the woman arrive at the cafe entrance, where she paused, looked back toward him, a cute yet dangerous look about her, her eyes squinting for focus, then seemed to register him as her destination. She called out to him, “Are you him?” He responded, “Yes! Are you her?” as she strode toward him. He took note of her stylish red sneakers. All the while he was absorbing and evaluating her, as is customary in his discipline, already formulating an appropriate curricula.
Even while performing her own lightning quick calculations upon seeing him sitting there, he seemingly relaxed and surely smiling, her emotions were fragile and fraught. He was dressed as if on his way to a beach somewhere! And behind his RayBans he was clearly and shamelessly evaluating the contours of her body! She maintained poise though and they shook hands and began the interview. ‘Tame your quick temper girl!’ she reminded herself as they began talking.
“Competence trumps all else!” he stated to her. “Can you be trusted to perform the tasks without embarrassment to me?” he asked, already alert to faint whisperings of ‘caution advised, potential peril present!’ in his mind. She had an alluring presence, clearly practiced and appropriate to her chosen field. He warned her, “In this job a misplaced comma is a major error! Cause for deep reflection on your part or summary dismissal! The plan I’m pondering for your curriculum requires poise and compliance for both of us! You’ll find that the real world seems mostly a never-ending series of problem solving exercises. Only a successful and convincing dissertation performance will qualify you as a Goddess!”
“l really think I can do the job sir. If you’ll allow me to do it in a fashion comfortable to me, and not interfere more than necessary, I’m confident I can do your tasks without errors,” she said to him, her eyes locked to his, her heart wobbling from subliminal thoughts of her academic dreams unfurling, and astonishment at his demeanor and words.
She’d done research into his own published research before the meeting and knew he was an exacting and precise Professor. She sensed in him a toughness and cynicism, but also a gentleness which might be fun to rebel against and possibly exploit. Then she had an overall good feeling come over her. ‘He’s an elder’, she thought, ‘but a rather adorable elder professor! And his works I perused seemed serious enough and potentially valuable to me in my studies. And his smile is contagious! He’s like a poster boy professor!’
“l want the job!” she declared, and saw his eyes flash skepticism. She felt a slight stab of fear.
‘She wants the job!’ he thought. ‘God help me on this one. She’s a vixen and her quick little temper will be a problem for both of us. We’ll just see how it goes.’
“In our field of study trust is essential. Can I trust you?” he queried.
“You can trust me sir, and I’ll trust you,” she responded cautiously, though she’d never believed a man could be trustworthy, even a professor.
“Then I shall trust you!” he stated emphatically. “And it goes without saying that you can trust a professor. And remember, competence trumps all else!”
Dollars were exchanged, they shook hands, and the Goddess In Training doctoral candidate entered a new phase in her education..
CP Butchvarov
2023
Copyright © 2023 by CP Butchvarov