Tardy, yes, but I just learned/realized/discovered today that the University of Chicago’s Graduate School of Business has sold its naming rights and now is rebranding itself as “Chicago Booth.” This seems a goofy name to me alongside Wharton and Kellogg and Sloan and such. It’s also seems an unfortunate missed dark comedy opportunity, if only “Wilkes” were added to the middle.
All of which of course made me wonder how much it cost someone to get their alma mater to rename itself Chicago Booth. Answer: $300 million.
I suppose partly every new name seems goofy and then you get used to it. (Except for the Toronto Raptors, which was goofy then and worse now.) I don’t just note this because I presume Mr. Booth has a team of Googlers and the ability to crush me and everyone who has ever made me smile.
Political science at Berkeley has sold its name, but if there is any place in sociology that has done so, I’m not aware of it. Maybe if there wasn’t this proto-depression there would be some megaconservative financier who would be willing to use an hour’s pay to buy the name of some prominent sociology department just out of a sense of mischief. He could have an secret online reverse auction to see which top 10 department would be willing to do it for the least money.
The fertility clinic is a lovely place. Everyone is so cheery and confident about Getting You Pregnant. The resident takes all of your information cheerfully, and then the doctor comes in.
Last time, we needed Clomid and IUI to get pregnant. We’d like to do that again.
Well, at your age, I suggest we go more aggressive: injectable hormones and IVF.
*Gasp* Can you tell me about the chances of twins?
Each cycle of IVF: 35% chance of pregnancy, 50/50 twins.
Well, there’s nothing like the spectre of twins to clarify your decision about having a second. We decided to forego the IVF, and go with the less aggressive IUI that we came in for. The success rate at your age is only 10% a cycle, so it might just get us zero, which we will try very hard to remember is just fine.
I am at a crossroads. On the one hand, my spouse and I are excited to begin the preparations for having a second child. We really like our first one, and we’re just about coming up for air now that he is getting close to school age. He wants a sibling, and we always wanted two kids (except for that brief period when our son was 0-3 years old, when we were very very certain that one was plenty).
On the other hand, I am worried. Continue reading “the path to parenthood, or not”
I often work odd hours and so have become familiar with the custodians everywhere I’ve been (more familiar, sad to say, than with many of my colleagues). But I haven’t (yet!) been employed by enough schools that I would have any standing for sweeping generalisations. Somewhere, right, there must be college custodians who don’t just put the recycling in with all the rest of the rubbish? Even when you are not watching them?
(I’ve never complained to the custodians, their superiors, or anyone else about this. I’ve a strict rule against doing anything to anger alienated labor when it has unrestricted access to my things.)
There’s that saying “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.” Why is there a saying: “Just because there’s a phenomenon called impostor syndrome doesn’t mean you are not an impostor.” Except, not about you. You aren’t an impostor and if you think otherwise that’s just more evidence of how insidious impostor syndrome is. Me, on the other hand, I’m the real deal impostor-wise. I am the splotchy green canvas a drunk guy whipped up in a few hours and am now trying to pass myself off as a Vermeer.
Two months ago I was at a dinner party that included also an academic couple. The husband made a pun during dinner that indicated he had misremembered my last name (chocolate bar in my profile notwithstanding, it’s ‘Crumple’ not ‘Crumble’), and then he was so pleased with his pun that he made references to it twice later in the dinner. Being timid, I did not correct him until the third time, which was awkward because our structural relationship is such that he really should have my surname down by this point. Yesterday at a holiday party I was standing with a colleague and the husband came over and started talking to us. As a last thing before leaving us, he apologised again for having misremembered my name. “My wife was so angry you would not believe it,” he proclaimed, “No sex for a month.” Continue reading “sorry to’ve crumped your style”
E-mailed from a friend at another university:
My friend says there’s a whole story to the sign that makes it less odd than it looks. Still. And he assures me the alcohol is not handed out until after the grading anyway. Of course. Continue reading “red stripe + red pen”
Just because I’m very pleased about the outcome of Australia’s elections does not mean I wish ill on the outgoing PM. In fact, I just sent him an e-mail with an exciting idea for what he might do next: Continue reading “smoothieing over adversity”