Chapter 4

Back in my office, I realized that I had no folders. There was a file cabinet, though. I opened the drawers. A little dust, some paper lint, a stray paper clip. I'd best get a box of files and three sets of alphabet tabs. No! Wait! I had an assistant! I'd put Des to work in the morning setting up the office. He could figure out how to get tape and paper clips and envelopes and all that stuff.

I sat down and stared at the shelves, realizing that I hadn't the stamina to work on them today. Nearly 11:30. I wondered whether any of the kids were downstairs. I owed them another lunch for putting me on to Des. I put his papers in with his other stuff and closed and locked the door (personnel papers). As I went downstairs, I could hear music — at least I thought it was music. Anyway, Charlie and Shirl were on their laptops and something was blaring. They didn't notice me. I tapped Charlie on the shoulder and gestured towards my mouth. Suddenly there was silence. Shirl looked up.

"G'day, Gordy."

"G'day. You fellows want some lunch? I owe you."

"What for?" asked Charlie.

"Referring Des."

"You've hired him?"

"Sort of. The CSIRO's hired him."

"How about pizza?" Shirl had fixed on the food.

"OK. But not one of those ghastly by-the-slice places. Somewhere they make real grease pies."

"Right. Chelsea Grill in Nedlands. OK with you, Charlie?"

"Whatever you say, dear. I'm not dumb." We all laughed. They closed their laptops and we left.

The pizza was very good. I was driving, so I only had one beer. The tab still wasn't enormous. Less than half of yesterday's with Chuck. (God! Three Charlies!) When I got back to my office/lab, I pulled up a pad and started making a list. I needed a key for the file cabinet. I needed a key to the office for Des. We needed a host of supplies. We needed some sort of set of university forms and CSIRO forms. Business cards! I'd have to ask Janice. She must think I'm totally clueless. Maybe she's right if she does.

I went to the next sheet of paper. I wrote Th-F-Sa-Su-M-Tu-W-Th ... down the margin line. Tomorrow

(the first Th), I meet with Des. Hear how the administration treated him, and set him to work on setting up the office. Friday, Charlie and Maddy would arrive. I'm sure that would put me out of commission till at least Tuesday. That meant that Des could order the books and collection boxes on Friday and Monday. I'd best phone the chap from the Wine folks, too. Find out exactly what they want, when they want it, where the thing would be held, and talk about money. I'd better set up a meeting with the dean or the department head. I still didn't know what they wanted me to do. And I needed to talk to Chuck and arrange the barbie. That would be the second Sa or SU, unless Weena was "on." I'd better get her near-term schedule.

I hope she's OK today.

The phone rang.

"Hollister."

"Yes, sir. I'll come right down." The chairman. He wanted to talk to me. I went downstairs.

The secretary said "Just walk in," but I knocked anyway.

"G'day, Gordy. Sit down."

"G'day, sir. What's up?"

"You met Jurgen when we had the get-together?"

"Yes. Interested in bees."

"Right. Well, he does the beginning insects course — Introduction to Entomology."

"Yes." I was beginning to get a queasy feeling — and it wasn't from the pizza.

"Well, his mother's ill ... seriously ill ... and he's flying to Germany tomorrow."

"Yes."

"It's six weeks still to term, but I thought I'd try to be prepared."

"Yes."

"So, I was wondering whether you'd take a lecture or two if he's not back by Labour Day. The lectures are on Wednesdays at 10. The assistants can take the other meetings. He's given me his syllabus and the textbook's been ordered."

"What is it?"

He looked at a slip of paper. "Gullan and Cranston, The Insects: An Outline of Entomology."

"I've got it." I took a deep breath. "Well, I certainly hope Jurgen's mother recovers and he come back in time. But I'll do it. I'm supposed to be doing some teaching, after all."

"Good chap! I'll get you copies of Jurgen's materials, but we'll hope you won't need them." He looked at his watch, subtle fellow.

"I guess that's all, then. But, on another topic, I've asked Des Simson to be my assistant."

"Sounds fine. I'll sign whatever I have to."

"I doubt whether there'll be anything for you to sign. He'll be paid by the CSIRO." And with that, I got up, turned to the door and left.

Back in my office, I wondered whether I'd ever get anything done. Then I realized that Des could do stuff like fending off the phone, too. At least until I hired a secretary, too. I wondered whether there was a grad student or faculty wife who wanted a job. I could even make it, say, 10 to 2:30 for someone with school-age kids. I could make some besides Des happy. I scribbled a note to myself on my "shopping list."

I went back to the students.

"Hey!"

"I just realized I have another question and as you guys pimped Des to me..."

"Hey! Wait a min!"

"Sorry. Not serious. Bad joke. Anyway. I'm going to need a secretary. Someone to answer the phone and type boring reports and keep track of my schedule. I was wondering whether there might be a grad student's wife or a faculty member's wife who wanted a job. Something over, say, 20 or 25 hours a week."