The Marvelous Misadventures of Ingrid Winter (Ingrid Winter Misadventure #1)

People flocked in, but no one sat by me. Ingvill took a seat next to Frank very close to the front. Even closer to the front, the office manager was struggling to get the projector to work while the chair stood in the corner chatting quietly with Peter. It seemed like they were disagreeing about something, which made me a little nervous.

I hadn’t told Peter the expensive icon wasn’t priceless in the way we’d thought it was, mostly because it was completely irrelevant to our agreement. If I helped Peter with his icon problem, he was going to help with my preschool-teacher education program problem. That was our deal, and as far as I could see, I’d upheld my end of the bargain.

But now I noticed him casting furtive looks my way, and I didn’t like that. Plus he kept touching the chair’s arm, which wasn’t reassuring, either. Why was he doing that?

Ultimately the chair sent Peter back to his seat, right next to Ingvill. As he sat down, he cast a glance back in my direction, one that seemed to be a blend of “Sorry” and “Good luck, kid.” I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.



What did that look mean?

Nothing.

What were you talking to the chair about?

Nothing.

You remember our deal?



No response.



You remember our deal?



No response.



Dickhead!!!



:-)



“Hello, everyone. Welcome!” the chair said. “And a particularly warm welcome to our Russia delegation. The university has been trying to set up a collaboration with Saint Petersburg State University for years, and this year Peter finally accomplished this feat. Let’s give him a big hand! I’ll be sure to bring this up with the administration, Peter!”

The chair gave Peter the thumbs-up. He stood up halfway to accept the scattered applause.

“Thank you all,” he said. “But I couldn’t have done this without my colleague, Ingvill Christensen. She deserves a big round of applause as well.”

He gestured with his hands to get a new round of applause going for Ingvill, who stood up and raised her arms in triumph, as I sat in the last row with my mouth open.

When the applause died out a few seconds later, Frank raised his hand.

“What about the rest of the English section?” he squeaked. “There were quite a few of us who wanted to be part of that delegation, you know. In the current climate, in these times of course revisions, internationalization is particularly precarious, and—”

“Yes, the English section,” the chair said with a grin. “We have some good news there as well. Ingvill has been selected to join the preschool-teacher education program, and they are really looking forward to having her on board as the newest addition to their team. Another round of applause for Ingvill. Stand up, Ingvill!”

Ingvill reluctantly rose again, but this time she looked extremely confused, and mostly seemed to be trying to catch Peter’s eye. He, however, stared fixedly at the floor.

This round of applause was much louder and lasted quite a bit longer than the one for the cooperative agreement, and Ingvill kept standing with her arms hanging limply at her sides until it died down. Then she opened her mouth.

“I just want to say,” she said, in a shaky voice, “that this process wasn’t fair. Or transparent. And that there are other people here in this department who should have been reassigned instead of me. I’m not going to name names; I won’t stoop to that. But you can be darn sure I’ll be contacting the Office of the Auditor General. And then we’ll see how this all turns out. I’m not some little cog in a machine! I’m not—”

“Yes, yes, Ingvill,” the chair said, gesturing with her hand for Ingvill to take a seat. “We’re sure you’ll be very happy in your new position, and I think I speak for everyone when I say that we’ll miss your cheerful presence. Oh, and Ingrid, I’m going to need the summary report for the Russia delegation from you. Ten pages by Friday. Thanks!”

I opened my mouth again but couldn’t think of anything to say, so I closed it.

Shortly thereafter we were engulfed in yet another debate for and against the course revision, even though the preannounced subject of this meeting was a presentation of the results of the work environment study.

That was when I stood up with an apologetic smile and scanned the room for any kind of nod of approval, but as usual had to leave before one materialized. I took up position outside Peter’s office and waited until he came squeaking down the hall five minutes later.

“I’m done playing on the team.”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I wrong in thinking that you tried to convince the chair to banish me to the preschool-teacher education program instead of Ingvill? Completely counter to our agreement?”

He smiled wryly and shrugged.

“Ingvill won’t last five minutes there,” he said. “Do you know how much teaching they have to do? We managed to protect her here by making up about seventy percent of her work duties. Nonexistent reports and pseudoresearch. Mark my words, in the preschool-teacher education program she’ll be out on a medical leave of absence for some made-up condition within six months. Laid off within a year. Besides, you’d have done just fine there.”

“That’s what you think.”

He smiled again.

“Well, at least that’s the end of the bad-cop strategy,” I said. “From now on we’re going to be pragmatic about the course revision and try to make the best of it.”

He laughed.

“We gave up on that strategy ages ago! Now we have a new one. Frank tipped me off to it: Zen Connection. It’s called Mindful Presence. It’s about playfulness, motion, spontaneity, moments of connection.”

“But Frank hasn’t mastered any of those things.”

“Now you’re being a little unfair.”

“Besides, the priority rankings are already done. Ingvill’s being demoted to the preschool-teacher education program. There’s nothing left to fight for!”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong! Just because the chair has decided to protect you, the battle isn’t over. We’re going to try to get Oddvar sent down there. That’s the plan.”

J.S. Drangsholt's books