A day of disappointment

One thing I enjoy about working at a university is a good luncheon. Although adjunct faculty like myself are not always invited, we usually go anyway. If the gathering is large enough, no one knows we're not supposed to be there. These types of social events are extremely important opportunities for someone like myself, someone just starting their career. They are an opportunity to eat for free.

So you can imagine my glee when I checked my box one day and found an invitation to a Christmas luncheon for all college faculty. For the next two weeks I kept the invitation in my drawer. Periodically I would take it out and stare at it, imagining the day when my lunch wouldn't involve microwaved tomato soup or boxed Asian noodles from Wal-Mart.

At last the blessed day arrived. Knowing I would probably forget the location, I stuffed the invitation in my pocket and skipped merrily down the hallway to pick up my friend Mike. He was just as excited. It was like pretzel day at Dunder Mifflin.

As we walked across campus towards the conference center, I noticed there didn't seem to be many other professors headed the same direction. After all, there are several hundred faculty in our college. I checked the flyer to make sure we had the right building. Perhaps most people were just coming fashionably late.

Arriving at the banquet room, I immediately recognized it was much too small for a faculty gathering (I'm extremely perceptive about such things). "This can't be right," I said to Mike, "It must be another room."

"No, this is it," he insisted. "It's one of those luncheons where not everyone is here at the same time. People just filter in and out for a couple hours."

And with that remark, Mike officially became partially reponsible for what happened next.

So we went in and wandered around. I didn't recognize anyone for the first few minutes (I rarely do at these things) but began to relax when I saw another professor from my department talking with the Dean. We sat down at a table. Each place setting also had a gift-wrapped bag of what appeared to be Bridge Mixture. Oh, sweet chocolatey delight! This was going to be the greatest afternoon in the history of forever.

Mike and I were talking about our classes when someone stepped to the podium and began welcoming everyone. Although I wasn't paying close attention, I was certain I heard her say this was an "administration and staff" gathering. When I looked around the room, I noticed it had a distinctly feminine flavour. I didn't recognize any professors, but I did see all our department secretaries sitting at a table across the room.

Panicked, I pulled the invitation out of my pocket. The faculty luncheon was actually next Friday

Quickly, I whispered to Mike, "Let's get out of here - this is a staff luncheon." His face blanched.

But it was already too late. The blessing on the food had begun. We couldn't walk out in the middle of a prayer, and so we sat there in silent agony.

Unfortunately, this wasn't really a prayer. It was a commencement address offered with folded arms. I'm sure you have all witnessed something similar. The person giving the prayer knows they have a captive audience, and there's no way they're sitting down until they've discharged their mind on all matters great and small. Lincoln could have given multiple Gettysburg addresses in the time it took this woman to bless a few chafing dishes.

When she finally ran out of breath, we picked up our coats and started to get up. Another person began to speak. This time it was the Dean of the College. The Head Man Himself. The Lord over all Creation. Now, I am not the most politically astute of individuals, but even I know that walking out of a small gathering during the Dean's address is not the kind of facetime a young faculty member seeks. Not only is it impolite, but it was also an admission that we were too dumb to show up at the right luncheon.

We stayed in our seats thinking the Dean would simply wish everyone a Merry Christmas, thank them for a productive year, and close. Not so. This was apparently a vital opportunity to elucidate on the challenges facing the university, the college, and the departments, in that order. Budget expectations, counseling services, charitable activities...

And as we sat continued to sit there I noticed a small crowd forming at the door. People were walking through looking for a place to sit, and I became acutely aware that there were two less empty chairs than there should have been. I started to feel dozens of stares pressing down on me. Perhaps the college staff were a tight-knit group who immediately recognized me as an interloper trying to score a free meal. The room started to feel stuffy.

I kept telling myself to hold steady. Our survival lay in our anonymity. The speech would soon end, and we could merge into the traffice of people headed to the buffet and exit stage left. Just don't get flustered. If we took flight now we'd end up stuffed and mounted, two panicky pheasants brought down by the hunter's rifle.

But the speech didn't end. One topic led into another, as if this were a devotional and not a chance to get free food. With every stale anecdote the room got hotter, the stares felt heavier, and Bridge Mixture seemed to recede from my grasp.

Finally I cracked. We stood up and headed for the door, announcing our uninvited presence to everyone. I didn't care. The cool breeze on my face felt like sweet freedom. As we walked down the street I could the see the banquet hall through an outside window. The Dean was still talking.

I learned later that the professor I recognized was in attendance because she is now an Associate Dean. That was information I could have used a day sooner.

The rest of the day was long and dreary. Instead of ham and scalloped potatoes, I had a frozen burrito for lunch. Instead of celebrating the holiday season in my office, enjoying the companionship of a bag of Bridge Mixture (Mmmmm...so many flavours), I stood awkwardly in the break room while the secretaries laughed at my absent-mindedness.

Worst luncheon ever.