The ice in my glass tinkled. What was this? My third or my fourth? No bother, the bar staff at these alumni functions were notorious for pouring weak cocktails. And what did it matter? It wasn’t as if I had my job to protect, and a row of tenured asses to kiss.

Nope, no asses to kiss, not tonight, not like little Greg Albright my successor. Ha! As if he could fill my shoes. Successor my flat-white ass. Albright has the intuition of a slug and the reasoning power of a highly…