humblebrag tender_square the academic was surprised to see that the administrator was the only body in the office. “so, you’re back?” “yeah, i returned about a month ago.” “what prompted that?” “well, i left the department to go to grad school and i finished that.” “what did you go for?” “an mfa in poetry.” “so what’s your position here?” “i’m back to temping about twenty hours a week.” “is that so you can write a book?” “yeah. i actually published my first one—a chapbook—last year, wait—or was it the year before?” the administrator tried to tally the passing years. “yeah.” the academic nodded. “i wish i could work twenty hours a week.” she walked away and began opening random drawers. “is there something i can help you find?” “a coffee cup.” she rifled through the supplies and found the one-use cups. “ah, here they are.” she loaded a keurig pod into the machine and it grumbled to life. “i’m working, like, eighty-hour weeks.” “that’s awful!” “it’s actually over two jobs. i opened up a business last year and then there’s teaching. so, i guess i shouldn’t complain because i’m getting to do what i love.” the academic shook a creamer into her coffee, turned her head repeatedly in search of a place to put her garbage. the administrator sat at her desk and offered up the small trash bin stashed under her desk, lifting it in the academic’s direction. “that’s so great, congratulations.” “yeah, and the business has the power to help, like, a million people. it’s incredible.” the academic ambled out of the office sipping fuel for twelve-hour workdays. 220326 what's it to you? who go blather from