I nodded with a smile at the typical reaction to my declaration.
“That’s my alma mater. Nice to meet ya. I knew you looked like good people.” Ted tilted his head like he couldn’t make out what I was doing here. Albeit, my general appearance did not fit in. My pressed shirt was at odds with all the dark jeans and gleaming belt buckles. I still couldn’t make out who hosted this event, but a disturbing hypothesis was forming. It certainly wasn’t the school. The man looked at me like he was waiting for more.
“I’m doing research at UT, specifically on the socio-economic impact on access to government facilities and mass transit with a specific emphasis on education and healthcare.”
“I see.” He nodded politely. “Relax a little, Cliff.”
“Clifford.”
He laughed jovially. He had one of those old south accents, like his words were dipped in molasses.
“Okay, Clifford it is.”
Familiar humiliation increased my heart rate. He had been trying to make polite small talk and I had shut him down with my awkward correction. Why was small talk socially acceptable? It should be outlawed. People should only be allowed to discuss important matters. Everything else was a waste of energy.
Yet, it was how the world ran. I thought of colleagues who were offered multi-million-dollar investments for their research from a chance meeting while tailgating. I couldn’t imagine the Herculean effort that would take. I had made it this far. I had changed everything about myself; I could do this too. I could play the game.
He sat back, spreading out his arms on the accompanying chairs on either side. He continued to bob to the music, seemingly unbothered by my social faux pas.
“I’m uh, actually doing some pretty interesting research right now.”
“Oh, yeah? What about?” Ted turned his head toward me but kept his eyes on a girl who was smiling at him from across the room.
“I’m interested in proving the theory that many Americans are bred with inherent bias and that many opportunities in one’s life are afforded based on how you are perceived by each person you interact with. But primarily it breaks down to, specifically in my field, the understanding and impact of public transportation and government-funded scholarships and other types of programs.” I rubbed my hands together, then stopped myself. Jack told me I look like a praying mantis when I did that and it freaked people out.
“Try again, son.” He raised an eyebrow at me.
I calmed myself down and forced myself to mirror his relaxed disposition. “I want to prove that the way we judge people based on their adolescent environment directly impacts their success in life.”
He lifted his chin in understanding. “How’re you going to do that?”
I scrambled. All my work heretofore had been research-based. Testing my hypothesis was the next step but money was required first. “Ah, well, unfortunately, my funding will run out before stable findings can be published. I need time and capital to—”
“Look my friend, you seem really…smart.” Ted held up his hand. “But I already had one sales pitch tonight. I’m just here for some fun.”
“Sales pitch?”
“Yeah, Occum. Trying to get me to invest in his, uh, business. I assumed that’s why you were here too. Though now talking to you, I see I was wrong.”
I shook my head. Familiar humiliation flooded me. I was an idiot. The pieces fell into place. The biker wasn’t giving up.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t be,” I mumbled.
“Clifford Rutledge, you said?” Buffount asked appraising me.
I nodded.
“Occum mentioned some renovations. You’re the inspector?”
I frowned. That wasn’t even remotely right, but I had already mucked up this situation. I nodded without commitment.
“Pulling double duty as a professor? I don’t get it.”
“Lack of resources. The only other certified PE, er, Professional Engineer, moved out of state. I stepped in to help.”
“Gotcha.” He scratched at his chin. “Excuse me. I gotta see a man about a horse.” He got up and left.
