One of three fictional vignettes contained in my doctoral thesis,
‘The academy and community: seeking authentic voices inside higher education’,
The full thesis can be accessed via this link –
Bryan needed the paper that he’d left in his office at Greystone. He took one more look through his briefcase, despite knowing full well that the paper was still on his desk. He could visualize exactly where he had left it, next to the bright yellow desk tidy his colleague, Wendy, had given him for Christmas. Downloading the paper online was pointless – what Bryan really needed were the crucial, yet elusive, notes he had scribbled on a hard copy the day before his departure. He had been away for almost a month now, and was preparing for his third consecutive international keynote. It was no good. Barbara, his wife and veteran Greystone researcher, would just have to go in and retrieve it.
Following his call, Barbara made her way to the Social Science building. Standing in the corridor, she felt light headed and wheezy. She couldn’t decide what was making her feel sick. Perhaps it was the fumes from the emulsion. The breezeblock walls, it seemed, had been liberated from their bleak façade; a façade keenly unobserved by Barbara day in and day out for almost four decades, until now. How white they looked. How bright and clean. Equally, it could be the glue from the newly fitted plush blue carpet showered in tiny gold crest motifs. Soft underfoot and very unlike the brown rush matting that always so neatly soaked up the drips from spent umbrellas on rainy days.
Barbara planned to be quickly in and out but there seemed to be problem with the lock. As she stood there trying not to think about being sick, she tried the key again and then fumbled around in her bag, feeling flustered. She couldn’t believe it wasn’t the right key yet felt compelled to look for another. ‘Damn’, she said to herself, out loud. ‘He really has given me the wrong one’. She put her bag down and phoned Bryan. She’d no idea what time of day it might be at his end.
‘You do have the right key, don’t you?’ asked Bryan.
‘Yes,’ snapped Barbara
‘The one with the blue tab from my spare set’
‘Yes. It doesn’t work,’ said Barbara
‘Have you tried wriggling it?’
‘Yes, of course I’ve tried wriggling it.’
‘You need to push harder. It sticks sometimes.’
‘Bryan, I know how to open a door. The key doesn’t fit.’
‘Well, that’s ridiculous. How are we going to get the bloody paper? I can hardly come back from Brazil. Wait! Wendy will have a key. She’s always got spares.’
Hanging up, Barbara shuffled down the corridor, heading for Wendy’s office. She turned the corner and stopped. Her progress was halted by a clear glass wall painted with three towering white letters which she read out loud, ‘HUB.’
Inside there was a sign hanging from the ceiling, which read: ‘Learning & Teaching Hub: the key to your success.’
Walking through a roped off section which reminded her of the post office but without the queue – there was no-one else around – she reached a pristine counter, behind which sat a smart young girl who welcomed Barbara with a big smile,
‘Hi, how can I help you?’
‘I need to access Bryans’ office and he’s given me the wrong key. There’s a master key. Could I borrow it?’
The girl looked puzzled. ‘No office here. You can see we’re open plan… whose office?’
Barbara glanced back out into the corridor. ‘Out there… second door on the right?’
The girl shook her head.
‘Where’s Wendy? She’ll know what I’m talking about,’ said Barbara
‘Sorry, there’s no one called Wendy working here.’
‘But I really need to get into Bryan’s office.’
Perplexed, the girl called a colleague over and asked her if she knew the whereabouts of a Wendy and also, an office belonging to someone called Bryan.
‘Ah yes,’ said the second woman. ‘Do you mean that rather quaint elderly gentleman who used to pop in and chat with Wendy before she left? He did have an office here but that was cleared out a couple of weeks ago. It’s now the Hub storeroom. There were some old papers but I think they were put in one of the PGR cupboards.’
Barbara, feeling even more flustered and not quite knowing how to react, just wanted to get the paper and leave.
‘Is the PGR room still there?’ She was beginning to wonder.
‘Yes, of course.’
Barbara made her way out of the Hub, beyond what had been Bryan’s office, and stood outside the PGR room. To her frustration, she didn’t have the combination for the keypad.
Back at the Hub she was told that as she wasn’t a postgraduate researcher, she couldn’t have the number. Being the partner of an internationally renowned professor who supervises postgraduate researchers didn’t cut any ice.
No status. No access. No office. No paper.
Were you ever subjected to a surprise move?