Read Online Ivory Tower by K C Maguire - Free Book Online Page A

burst into the fourth floor conference room, nursing a Styrofoam mug of what passed for coffee in the faculty lounge. 
    “Nice of you to join us, Professor King.”  The medical school dean, Magary, glared at me.  I never quite understood why the Provost had asked him to chair the business school dean search.  How a medical doctor would know anything about a business faculty was anyone’s guess.  Mumbling apologies, I searched for a vacant seat.  The conference table was surrounded by old white guys—who Melissa not-so-ironically referred to as “pale, stale, and male.”  By and large they ignored me, focusing instead on their smartphones and tablet computers.
    Dean Magary and the Provost were sharing what would have been the head of the table if it was rectangular rather than the peculiar oval shape that barely fit the room.  I’ve been told it’s the mark of a good business school to engage in innovative interior design.  I have often wondered if better schools could afford designs that were actually functional.  A large stack of papers teetered in the center of the table, a speakerphone perched awkwardly beside it, extension cord straining to the wall. 
      “If I may,” the Provost began, “I know we have discussed the downsides of opening the search to internal candidates, but …”
      My heart skipped a beat.  Had they reconsidered my position?  Had they been waiting for me so they could announce my candidacy?  My hand shook, causing me to spill coffee on the faux marble tabletop as I took my seat.  I resisted the urge to search for a tissue to mop it up as I held my breath, awaiting the Provost’s announcement.
      “Is everything  all right, Professor King?”  Magary’s annoyance was palpable, but I didn’t care.  He’d have to suck it up when the Provost announced my candidacy. 
      “As I was saying,” the Provost continued, “we have previously discussed the idea of barring internal candidates from this committee’s consideration, but it has come to my attention that there is at least one internal candidate for whom I believe we should make an exception.”
      He was actually going to say it.  I straightened my shoulders, careful to avoid moving my hands any closer to my coffee cup.  I wondered if they would ask me to leave the meeting as soon as they named me as being in the running.  Looking at the stack of C.V.s piled on the table, I experienced a wave of relief at the thought that it wouldn’t be me, for once, plowing through them, vetting and ranking them.  Then it hit me that my own C.V. was probably now in that pile.  My lips  stretched into an uncontrollable smile.
      The Provost was still talking.  “In this instance, I have decided to accept Professor Maxwell’s self-nomination for the deanship.” 
    What? 
    “We’ve had great success with internal candidates at other schools within the university,” the Provost  said. “As you know I, myself, was an internal candidate.”  He glanced at his watch and shuffled to his feet.  “My apologies.  I have another meeting.  I’ll leave you all in Dean Magary’s capable hands.  And of course, I’d like to thank you for your valuable service on this committee.”
      After the door  closed behind the Provost, Magary cleared his throat and directed his next words to the speakerphone.  “Shall we look at the pool now?  Let’s turn it over to our search consultants.  You still with us, Bob?”
      “Sure,” a disembodied voice responded from sunny San Diego.  I wondered idly how much Bob  caught of my humiliation.  I had been thinking of calling him to ask his opinion of putting my own name forward, but that was all out the window now.
      “What have you got for us?”  Magary asked.
    “Do you have our summary sheets with you?”  Bob’s voice crackled from across the country.
      Magary shoved the papers at me.  Before I could think about why he singled me out, I was on my feet