We Love The Halls Of Ivy

           Former Governor Butler (who said this job was a step up for him) ushered me in to my weekly coffee at the University President’s 18,000 square foot residence. Butler Butler showed me past the atrium to President Hal Savivey’s sumptuous buffet in the fountain court. He announced me, and we three old frat brothers had a cheery moment agreeing we had all found the 'right' work. Hal acknowledged he was the highest paid at $350,000, but said he was surely the lowest paid University President in America.

           When we sat down alone, Hal confided he was having second thoughts about hiring Butler. We sipped and grumbled till Butler returned.

           “Bill at the Power company said the plane trip to Banff is on schedule…and Warren Buffet called again. Also, Obama will meet you in Chicago next Tuesday. Oh, and the Chamber wants some policy advice.” Butler Butler nodded and left.

           “See what I mean,” Hal asked? He should have just posted that to me! Politicians! A bunch of flies feeding on me like a plate of sh—Hello darling!”

           “I hope I haven’t kept you from swearing again! Hello R.R.” Mrs. Savivey glided past us heading for the kitchen.

           “Stealthy woman,” exclaimed Savivey. “As I was saying, my salary barely keeps me in cummerbunds. I need a part-time job!”

           “Well, there's your three cars, and greens fees, this huge house and grounds, plus upkeep, plus the staff, all those expensive parties you throw, the plane trips all over the world for golf and networking, shopping trips to both coasts, your retreat in Costa Rica, your personal trainer and gym membership, the annual ten-day faculty retreat you hold at a national historic site each year, the monthly Department Head luncheons you give, and the developmental seminars at swanky resorts on the coasts. I mean, you could cut back!”

           “No no no,” Hal protested, “all that stuff is paid for by the University. I can't save a dime on any of that! No, my problem is I only have about $150,000 a year to invest. At this rate, I'll have to work forever--.”

           “Sir, your limo is packed and ready,” interrupted Butler.

           “Finally!” Hal stood up. “I'm headed for Canada to ski. Can I drop you anywhere, R.R.?”

          “Thanks anyway, Hal,” I said, looking at Butler and remembering my college loans.