Advice to Law Professors #2

Dear Mr. Schaeffer:

I am having a major dispute with the two colleagues with whom I share a secretary. The secretary, whose name is Tammy, is responsible for preparing manuscripts for the various books that my colleagues and I are writing. Previously, we all got along fairly well, dividing Tammy’s time equally among us. But now my colleagues have unfairly objected to my demand that I be allowed to use Tammy twice as much as called for by our prior agreement. This demand is based on a very simple but undisputable premise: The book I am writing is much more important than those of my colleagues.

Let me explain. My first colleague is writing a history of the state supreme court. Not only are state supreme courts not very important, but the book was commissioned. I happen to know the court clerk gave the assignment to my colleague only after being blackmailed over an indiscretion that happened last summer at a strip club. My second colleague, even more astonishingly, is writing a book about “law and the movies.” As for that colleague, I can’t even look at him without breaking into fits of laughter.

You probably want to know something about my book. I’m glad you asked. It’s a treatise on the ontological and epistemic foundations of the law and its artifactual forms, which will include entire volumes on Kant, Hume, Nietzsche, and Wittgenstein. I anticipate, in fact, that my work will eventually require ten volumes and take thirty or thirty-five years to write. With this background, it’s easy to understand why I should be allowed to use Tammy at least twice as frequently as the others. Another problem, though, is Tammy doesn’t like me very much. Frankly, it’s no wonder, since I do not hide my disapproval of her frequent bathroom breaks and the way she smells up the entire staff area at lunchtime with her tuna sandwiches. What can I do?

Signed, Miffed in [omitted to hide identity]

Dear Miffed,

First of all, I must say that I am very much looking forward to your book, having spent much of my youth studying Kant, Hume, Nietzsche, and Wittgenstein, even to the extent that my ability to hit a baseball began to suffer at age fourteen. I sense, in fact, that we are kindred spirits, since I too have little use for the history of state supreme courts or books about “law and the movies.”

That’s why I am at a complete loss as to why you do not like the smell of tuna fish. It’s really not that bad. I fully understand that tuna comes in a can, which is admittedly not the best way to store a fish. But even so, what flavor can be contained there! Your objection to the smell might mean that your secretary is buying the type of tuna that is packed in oil, which often makes the scent a little stronger. Have her try switching to tuna packed in water. Another possibility is that she is mixing the tuna with something that doesn’t add to its olfactory pleasures. Ask her whether her tuna sandwiches include either inexpensive mayonnaise or eggs that may have spoiled. If so, she needs to take more care in the preparation of her sandwiches.

In any case, as a student of Nietzsche you will understand this reminder: What does not kill you makes you stronger. Nietzsche meant this aphorism to apply to life’s greatest challenges, but it also applies to the smell of tuna fish. So find a way to adapt, and in the meantime, learn to get along with your colleagues. I suspect that all this interoffice drama is merely a subconscious ploy designed to keep you from having to tackle Kant.

Your friend, Evan Schaeffer

Comments

[David Giacalone]

Prof. Yabut hopes the "Law and the Movies" book comes out soon (he already has a shelf-full of them). What really annoys Yabut is the smell of microwave popcorn at the office. Any suggestions on that problem, Mr. Schaeffer?

[Evan]

Prof. Yabut: It would be unfair to my many other correspondents if I took your problem "out of turn" by dealing with it in a comment. I can say, however, that I understand your objections to microwave popcorn, especially when it gets caught between the teeth of fellow office-workers. Microwave popcorn is ubiquitous, however, so the only way to escape it is by finding a job in a foreign country such as Uzbekistan, Vanuatu, or Canada. (Another solution is to intentionally break the microwave, but it will most likely be replaced within the week by the hungry office staff.)

[David Giacalone]

Thankyou for taking me out of turn, sir. I just heard on NPR that today is Shakespeare's birthday and that he coined the phrase "too much of a good thing." Although I would never otherwise associate the phrase with this weblog, it is definitely appropriate for the odor of microwave popcorn -- its ubiquitousness has turned one of my favorite aromas into something that almost makes me want to "blog."