Monkey Business. Sarah Mlynowski

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      The bell rings, and I immediately unwrap the rest of my muffin and eat it. “I guess the rumors are true—this class is bogus.”

      Kimmy looks like she might cry. “What are you talking about? Who said it’s going to be bogus?”

      “The second-years.”

      “Are those the second-year girls I saw you flirting with yesterday?”

      I give what I hope is a mischievous smile, while trying to keep my mouth closed so as not to reveal chewed muffin. “Darlin’, are you accusing me of cheating on you? I’m shocked and bewildered.” I’m kidding, of course. I’ve been trying to get her alone all weekend, but she keeps coming up with excuses. I’m not giving up. Chasing Kimmy might be my only entertainment all year.

      She shushes me with her hand. “That class didn’t seem like such a joke.”

      “Trust me. It is.”

      She looks confused. “But…but I still don’t understand what organizational behavior is.”

      “It’s psychology for business people. Different personality types. The best way to structure your business. That kind of stuff. You worked for a leasing company, right?”

      She fiddles with her turtleneck as if it’s choking her. “How’d you know that?”

      “Because you said it on Tuesday.”

      “Oh, yeah. Right.”

      “How many vice presidents were there?”

      “Um…” She shakes her head. “None.”

      “Okay, then who was the boss?”

      She blushes. “My dad.”

      Ah. “Who worked under your dad?”

      “There was a finance manager, collections manager, accounting manager, office manager…”

      “What did you do?”

      “I worked for collections.”

      Sexy. “Really? You demanded people pay you? Did you threaten physical harm?”

      “No, I called them.”

      I can see her in a tight black leather dress, black stiletto boots and a gun harnessed to the inside of her thigh. I’ll have to save that image for later. “Were all your dad’s leases in Arizona?”

      “No, he does leases all over the country.”

      “So let’s say we take your company and restructure it. You have five managers, but now they’re arranged geographically, each one overseeing an area. West Coast, East Coast, the central states, the South, and the Southwest. Would this structure better serve the company?”

      “Oh,” she says slowly. “I get it. So we’re going to learn theories that we can apply to answer that question?”

      “Right.”

      She nods. “I was a Philosophy major in college. We learned theories and tried to apply them. This I can do.”

      I stand up and stretch. “Glad to be of service.”

      “How do you know all that? Did you study business in college?”

      My mother wishes. “No, I did a liberal arts degree. But I read a lot.”

      We have a ten-minute break until the next class, which is in this same room. All the classes we have today are in the same room. I feel like we’re back in grade school. The teachers come to us instead of us going to them.

      “I’m going to get a coffee,” Kimmy says, standing up. “Want anything?”

      “I’m okay, thanks.”

      Professor Douglas arrives while Kimmy is still out. With his dark glasses, large bald spot and five-foot-five skinny frame, he looks more like Woody Allen than a professor. Short legs dangling, he sits on the front of his desk and sips his coffee.

      “Mmm,” he says. “They have a new flavor this year, hazelnut latte. I highly recommend it to anyone like me who suffers from severe caffeine addiction.”

      His audience laughs.

      “So am I your first class today?” he asks.

      “No,” says the tall blonde in the front row. “We had Professor Matthews first.”

      He smirks. “Don’t worry about him. His bark is worse than his bite. Although I wouldn’t get too close.”

      Ah, the wanna-be comedian.

      “He barked pretty loudly,” another student adds.

      Professor Douglas laughs a loud, room-filling laugh. “Yes, he does. And he never erases the board. Look at that,” he says, and points to the dry board. “You’d think professors would learn to clean up after themselves.”

      Layla jumps up. “I’ll do it.”

      Oy. What a suck-up.

      “No worries,” he says. “I got it.”

      Ah, and he isn’t afraid of manual labor. What more could one want in a professor?

      Kimmy СКАЧАТЬ