I cried more than usual last week. I’m not a big crier, but sometimes things get to a stress level that my usual calm exterior breaks down.
Stress? Me stressed?
My tenure file was due on Friday. This event can cause stress for even the most sanguine academics. My effort was made more complicated by a number of factors.
To wit:
+This was my first file of this type. Normally people submit what’s called a “retention file” first. I didn’t have to because I just got my job permanently summer before last and because you don’t have to submit a file your first year.
+My file qualifies as weird. Most faculty teach. I do too, but my day-to-day effort focuses more on administration.
+If I don’t get tenure, I lose my job.
No pressure. None at all.
The mofo required a 5 inch notebook. Priced one of those lately? They’re not cheap. $30 not cheap.
Also, Avery needs to try a lot harder. Don’t sell 12-tab dividers when the template doesn’t work with Word for Mac. I managed to find some 5-tab dividers in the office. Someone had left a sheet in the box that had all the labels pulled off. I formatted carefully, printed and discovered that I had printed on a used, no-label sheet. Um-Hmm. Would you put a used-up sheet back into the label box? Neither would I. Did we have any more 5-tab labels? Nope. Did I need to reformat for 8-tab labels? Yep. Total time making, printing and applying the labels? Well over two hours.
If Avery lodged itself firmly on my office product shit list, Swingline became my office product hero. How? Well, they make this wondrous thing:
Behold the bit of magnificence, friends and neighbors, that is Swingline’s electric three hole punch. A friend secreted it away from a neighboring department. After using it to punch for a while (and having several co-workers come by to try it), I asked our office folks to order us one. I heart Swingline. Honey asked, when I was raving about it, “who punches holes any more?” I do and think my office deserves the brilliance and efficiency of the Swingline 525.
Here’s the completed product:
Thick, huh?
Look at those labels. They look nice, despite Avery’s stupidity, inanity.
My normal bag didn’t seem even close to capable of holding the five inches of hole-punched me for delivery to the dean’s office. Fortunately, I had gotten a bag for travel that was up to the task.
My green bean machine was ready to carry me for the delivery.
I won’t know anything until the end of the semester.
The thing is called a PIF. That’s sort of how I feel now that it lives in the dean’s office. Like all the air’s been released.
piffffffff
The crying, thankfully, has subsided somewhat.
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