I don’t ordinarily blog about work, because (A) it’s usually quite dull and (B) I have no interest in getting Dooced. Occasionally, though, a blogworthy moment happens.
For those who don’t know, I supervise a college computer lab. Those poor wretched souls who hope to gain entry to my glorious kingdom must first submit to a series of grueling ordeals; namely, they have to sign in on our (aptly named!) sign-in sheet. And one of the fields on the sign-in sheet is “Instructor Name,” where, logically enough, students are required to write down the name of their teacher. Make careful note of this fact; we’ll be coming back to it.
The scene:
TD sits atop his majestic throne, serenely surveying his vast domain. One of the aforementioned wretched souls approaches and begins his grueling ordeals. All goes well until he reaches the dreaded “Instructor Name” field, which stops him in his tracks. He turns towards TD and:
Pathetic Wretch: I don’t know this one.
TD: Excuse me?
PW: I don’t know what to put here.
TD: Write down your teacher’s name.
PW: I don’t know it.
Mildly surprised by the absurdity of the statement, TD activates his internal censor and pauses for a moment to consider his response.
TD: It’s the first week of April. The semester started in January. We’ve had TEN WEEKS of classes. And you’re telling me you don’t know the name of your teacher?
PW: Umm…
TD: Really.
PW: He’s a guy.
TD: That’s an implicit tautology and does very little to answer the question at hand.
PW: Huh?
TD: (remembering he’s supposed to be nice to the wretched souls, lest they complain to a Higher Deity) :sigh: What does he look like?
The very, very stupid shall inherit the Earth.
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