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Chapter 1
Leyna
Iwear an invisiblemask every time I step into this place. I don’t let anyone in, I keep it professional. I don’t even go for coffee with the other administrative assistants. It’s a decent job and it pays the bills, but it’s not who I am.
I reiterate this mantra over and over whenever work gets stressful. Like, when Lorna, the senior administrator here in the English Department, feels the need to put me in my place. Or, when one of the full-of-themselves professors thinks they can get away with making me their own personal secretary.
Like right now.
The floppy-haired, set-in-his-ways professor looks down at me as I sit at my desk in the main office. He is looking increasingly frustrated and I’m getting annoyed.
‘I’m sorry, Professor Styles. I know that’s something the admin staff used to do, but since they’ve reorganized everything, a lot of our duties have changed. I believe an email went out a few weeks ago...’ I hold my breath, hoping that that answer is enough to pacify the old codger.
‘Janice never used to have a problem with this,’ he grumbles.
‘I realise that but there’ve been some changes and, as much as I would love to help you, I simply can’t. You know, they’ve been saying that things would run differently for a while, and I guess it’s now that time. All part of the Faculty’s plan toreorganise...’ I let the words hang mid-air, hoping he’ll get the message.
He shakes his head. ‘That’s all they do. Constantly reorganise and leave the rest of us in the dark.’ He waves his papers about as he speaks.
He’s one of the most senior professors in the English Department and he’s on the cusp of retirement. To be honest, he should have retired years ago. He thinks the department should still be run like it’s 1972.
I shrug my shoulders and nod in agreement, as though the two of us are commiserating together. At least, that’s what he thinks. Actually, I couldn’t give a monkey’s. But I’ve come to realise that the fastest and smoothest way to deal with these professors who, incidentally, only acknowledge you’re another human being when they want something from you, is to let them think that everything is their idea.
I might only be an administrative assistant for the English Department, but still, it’s nice to be treated like another human being and not simply a photocopier, a letter writer, a coffee-maker...
‘Looks like I’ll have to do this myself then,’ he says.
‘Maybe you could bring it up at the next faculty meeting?’ I suggest. ‘You still sit on the committee, right?’ I know I’m poking the bear. I simply can’t help myself. Everyone knows that Professor Old Codger had recently been asked to step down from the faculty committee.
‘Of course, yes, excellent idea...’ he murmurs as he walks away.
He might be on the verge of retirement, and I might be low on the pecking order around here, but I’m not about to take that sort of condescending rubbish. I have to spend eight hours a day here. That’s forty hours every week fending off work that isn’t in my job description. The truth is, without me, and the other departmental admin staff, this place would grind to a halt in a heartbeat. That little episode with Professor Styles was simply because he couldn’t be bothered to post a letter himself.Post a letter. Imagine if he or the other academic staff had to actually organise their own timetables or book a board of studies meeting?
A niggling voice at the back of my mind reminds me that we are from vastly different worlds, so why wouldn’t Professor Old Codger think he was superior? He probably went to private school, then Oxbridge, and has lorded it around this place for the last, what, thirty, forty years? If that wasn’t enough, his six-figure salary and manor house would do it. Not to mention, he almost always gets his way, whether it is underhanded or above board. That’s just how this place works.
I’ve been here long enough to notice that not everyone is treated equally, not even amongst the academics. This is why I have to stand up for myself every now and then. I might have zero seniority, but I do have standards. And this administrative assistant refuses to take any crap without handing a little bit back—on a silver platter, of course.
As soon as Professor Styles is out of sight, I smile wickedly and dust off my hands, as though I’ve just tidied this place up. ‘That’s right, Professor Old Codger. Keep walking.’ I doubt he’ll be asking me to post any of his letters anymore.
One down, how many more of these jerks to go today?
‘Miss Burrows?’
The deep voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck bristle, and I nearly fall off my seat. I look up slowly. It’s another one. Another professor. Except that this one is different.
