THE VICE-CHANCELLOR’S AFFAIR
A satire by Keith Salter
Once a year, every year, the heads of the nation’s top universities gather together for the annual Vice-Chancellors’ Conference. The conference, or VCC to those in the know, is hosted by a single university on an annually rotating basis. Historically, a full week is allocated to the VCC, although in years gone by the conference is usually wrapped up after only four days, leaving the various vice-chancellors each with a spare Friday to do with what they will. Although virtual engagements have become widespread within the modern workplace, the cultural norm for the VCC is one of close professional intimacy. Personal attendance is insisted upon to ensure that all exchanges are conducted in camera rather than on camera. A public announcement is generally made on the afternoon of the Thursday during the conference week, but apart from this often bland declaration, all other discussions remain secret. The reasoning here is that our vice-chancellors are responsible for serious work that is of a sensitive nature. It is so sensitive that the local taxpayer, who foots the bill for each Vice-Chancellor, and each to the tune of six or seven figures annually, cannot be allowed to discover what precisely our vice-chancellor’s are up to, nor what they are planning to get up to.
It was around ten thirty Monday morning, the first day of the conference, and the introductions had just been made. The free nibbles were removed, soon to be replaced by tiny sandwiches that were also provided at no cost to the attendees. The captains of their respective universities had assembled about half an hour earlier, and underneath far too bright indoor lighting, had indulged the formalities that are common to opening these types of affairs. The formalities now over, the annual Vice-Chancellors’ Conference could now begin in earnest. There were thirteen university bosses in attendance, the majority hailing from two major state capitals, the rest from a smattering of other cities. Presently, the thirteen vice-chancellors were seated in plush armchairs that each featured tall backs and cushioned headrests, and that had been arranged in the shape of a horseshoe. The floor between them was quite open and an assortment of small side tables supported beverages and personal effects. The overhead lights had by now been extinguished and much softer wall lighting was ignited, producing the illusion of intimacy, in the manner of the courtship café, or the first hour and no more, of the nightclub event. Within this darkened interior, individual vice-chancellors each affected a pose, and it was one that each thought would be to their own advantage. As they faced one another in this roundtable affair minus an actual conference table, they spoke sincerely to one another and to all.
However, before I can get to the discussion, and certainly to the meat of the exchange, I must first introduce to you the identities of the grand attendees. The attendance card looked something like this:
THE VICE-CHANCELLORS’ TWENTY FIRST ANNUAL CONFERENCE
| Vice-Chancellor | Institution |
| Clyde Horatio Booringham | Top Hat University |
| Hillary Barrington-Bills | Snotterposh Higher School of Economics |
| Theodore Portipple | University of Standing Ovation |
| Gwendoline Froth | University of Universal Prudence |
| Sylvia Fishtail | Elite University |
| Stephenson Hickory Ignatius Tremorass | Monocle University |
| Grover Moneywhiff | Eastern Shores University of Financial Extraction |
| Philpott Abernathy | Technical College University |
| Harmony Blitzkrieg | University of War and Military Matters |
| Esme Podds-Latte | University of Privilege |
| MacWhirter Bust | Four Suits University (formerly University of Canasta) |
| Vance Cashman | University of Legerdemain |
| Michaela Monaghan Dontask | Western Oligarchs University |
And so, now that we are all well aware of precisely who was present at this lavish and expensive shindig, I may now continue with my account of the Vice-Chancellors’ Conference and share with you what was said and by whom.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (posh accent, speech a beat faster than necessary): I would like to spend this year’s conference talking about ways to make money for our universities.
FISHTAIL (similar posh accent, normal pace, facilitating): I like the sound of that!
CASHMAN (clears his throat and rubs his hands together): Yes, Legerdemain can use all the money it can lay its hands on!
PODDS-LATTE (back straight, knees together, hands interwoven in lap, chin pointing to Barrington-Bills): Many of our universities are in difficult financial straits. It remains incumbent upon ourselves to discover and develop new methods for funding our institutions.
MONEYWHIFF (archly, one eyebrow ascending): Snotters in a spot of bother?
BARRINGTON-BILLS (mildly challenging, more at Moneywhiff than at the idea): Who isn’t?
FROTH (softer voice and manner emulating Podds-Latte in finishing school fashion): We have all faced difficulties with funding for our universities. Perhaps now is the time to identify some quite useful ideas to generate real wealth.
BOORINGHAM (grooming and dusting his top hat, looking at it rather than anyone else): Money, money, money…
MONEYWHIFF (voice raised as if addressing a mute): What’s that Booringham?
BOORINGHAM (slightly startled, as if he has just noticed the other vice-chancellors in the room, then booming): I said money. Everybody needs money nowadays. Used to be that we could just send a bill to the government, and they would pay it. Now, we must finance ourselves. Shame!
CASHMAN (having observed intently, hands clasped together and in front of himself): There must be a scheme or two that we can employ.
Several attendees nod in confirmation and support of Cashman’s suggestion.
BUST (looking more than a little nervous): We lost our entire annual budget on an investment that went south. If we don’t secure new capital, and quite soon, Four Suits will be going under.
MONEYWHIFF (straightening up and turning to face Bust, almost pleased to hear this): I’m sorry to hear that Bust. Can you tell us a little about this investment that went south, so that perhaps the rest of us can avoid it?
All eyes shift to Bust. Bust is uncomfortable with the attention.
BUST (a squirm beginning to show): Four Suits opted to parlay its annual budget after receiving sound financial advice.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (quickly): Parlay?
BUST (eyes darting about, licking his lips): Four Suits invested the full value of its annual budget in the Urban Casino Consortium, which of course, did not materialise and all monies invested were forfeited.
TREMORASS (holding onto and adjusting his monocle): Yikes!
A few faces glanced in the direction of Tremorass, but there was nothing more that escaped his mouth.
CASHMAN (relieved): The Urban Casino Consortium approached us with a prospectus worth fifty million. That’s fifty million that Legerdemain would have to put up, just for the right to participate, with zero guarantee of profit. And then, they didn’t even lay foundations in the ground. Phew! We certainly dodged a bullet!
PODDS-LATTE (sensibly, to Bust): Are you taking them to court to get your money back?
BUST (running his hand through his hair nervously): We can’t.
PODDS-LATTE (more forceful, like an insistent schoolteacher addressing a young student): Whyever not?
BUST (defeated): Due to the terms of the bet. Which were, contribute to the cost of construction and get the casino built. Then, once it was up and running, Four Suits would get a regular profit share. Only the casino was never built.
MONEYWHIFF (superciliously): Ahh, the delayed profit scheme! Front up the cash now but wait until a trigger event occurs much later before any money makes its way back to you! Foolish!
Bust turned ashen and appeared to want to speak but simply gulped and remained silent.
FROTH (soothingly): Well, we all make mistakes. Let’s concentrate on coming up with a few really good ideas that can help us to raise useful capital.
A momentary pause ensued and each of the university captains occupied themselves with various small things. Portipple, who so far hadn’t said a word but had remained noticeable due to the unrelenting attention that he paid to his handlebar moustache, waved to the help stationed behind soundproof glass, and within the minute the help entered and Portipple was served a snifter of French brandy. Using one hand to balance the curvaceous snifter, Portipple raised it to his face and delicately sniffed at it before finally taking a single sip of the dark golden drink. His alternate hand found familiar work twirling one end of his moustache, which had been waxed into two opposing spears. Having observed this performance, the meeting continued.
FISHTAIL (poised, with voice of establishment power): At Elite, we use taxpayer funding to construct new buildings around the outskirts of our campus. We build as large and as high as Council will allow. We then divide these new buildings into offices, showrooms, and other commercial premises. Obviously, we then put them out onto the rental market. In this way, Elite doesn’t pay for the costs of capital works, nor does Elite pay for anything much at all. Elite collects the rent, however.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (suddenly attentive): But surely the University must conduct classes on the premises or otherwise provide teaching space within these new buildings?
FISHTAIL (slightly blasé): Well, it’s a grey area really.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (unperturbed): How do you mean?
FISHTAIL (refocusing her eyes): At Elite, we have found that if we install signage that references a generic inference to education, then nobody worries or cares.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (gobsmacked): Whatever is written on the signage?
FISHTAIL (back to blasé): Well, on the latest building we installed signage that announced the presence of Education Services.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (squinting now, but still gobsmacked): And what are the Education Services?
FISHTAIL (looking bored): I really don’t know. It hardly matters anyway, as Elite leases the entire building out to a leading medical research enterprise. Signed them up to a six year lease, annual rent paid in advance.
Barrington-Bills remained gobsmacked in the face of this brazen audacity. But she was also a little in awe of Fishtail, who had seemingly accomplished what the others had not yet achieved.
CASHMAN (rubbing hands together): So, does the medical researcher teach and train students on campus?
MONEYWHIFF (abruptly): Don’t be so naïve, Cashman!
Cashman ignores Moneywhiff and looks in the direction of Fishtail, who looks back at him.
FISHTAIL (slightly annoyed at what she considered to be an infantile question): Of course not! As I have already stated, at Elite, we simply install signage. It doesn’t have to mean anything at all!
BLITZKRIEG (waking up like a big lazy cat, choosing its own moment of arrival): We do precisely the same thing at U-War. In fact, we are currently leasing out our entire science wing to a leading biological-medical research and production enterprise. The building contains four floors and one hundred and twenty rooms. U-War receives a generous rental payment every year, which we can then do with as we please. It just makes perfect sense.
PORTIPPLE (face reddened, suddenly alert): But where do you teach your students?
BLITZKRIEG (patiently): We market our university as an online teaching institution, and therefore, our students mostly attend classes remotely.
PORTIPPLE (cogitating and then assembling separate ideas out loud): So, if I understand this correctly, U-War has displaced its students off campus and kept them there, whilst also billing them for being students, and concurrent to this, U-War is now renting out the floorspace that was formerly attributed to teaching and learning activities and that was previously filled with students and teachers, and to a biomed company that doesn’t include a single student within its sphere of operations.
BLITZKRIEG (sensing intelligence nearby): Yes, but what’s your point?
Portipple did not provide an answer and was presently busy observing the swirl of brandy in his snifter. Lost in his own world, he stopped briefly to sip and then recommenced the swirling action.
MONEYWHIFF (addressing Barrington-Bills, his own posh accent becoming more pronounced): How is everything at Snotters?
BARRINGTON-BILLS (masking concern): Oh, you know Moneywhiff, Snotters is not in the same situation that it used to be in. In fact, Snotters is presently in dire need of money.
MONEYWHIFF (head turning and eyes roving, speaking to all): Has anyone got any ideas that may assist Hillary?
BUST (half-heartedly): Don’t invest in casinos.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (blank face): Yep, got that.
MONEYWHIFF (motivating): C’mon everyone, Hillary needs our help!
BOORINGHAM (looking clever by half): I’ve got an idea to share!
MONEYWHIFF (pleased, but impatient): Have you now?
BOORINGHAM (still looking clever by half): Similar to Elite, we at Top Hat have access to taxpayer funds in the form of an annual government grant. We used this money, which was extensive, to construct new student accommodation facilities. In fact, we tripled capacity and then doubled the price of the existing rent! We are making money hand over fist! The grant paid for the capital works, but the rental income comes exclusively to us!
BARRINGTON-BILLS (pulling her face together): Okay, I get it. Taxpayers fund the major expense of construction and outfitting of the new premises, and the university never has to pay back the government or even make modernised urban space available to the local residents. In addition, all actual and potential income derived from this enterprise returns to the university and not the government or the local electorate.
MONEYWHIFF (enjoying the swift analysis): Very good.
FROTH (sitting properly according to deportment lessons and gently inquiring): But isn’t there a high cost associated with student accommodation?
PODDS-LATTE (piping up, contributing): And, don’t all student facilities require the presence of paid and trained university staff?
DONTASK (aware, on point): Because Oligarchs is a physical university, we have a sizeable student population living upon campus. Now, I’ve been listening to all of you, and I’m quite sure that none of us wants to spend any more money than we have to. So, thinking about this, Oligarchs devised a scheme to undermine the minimum wage. This is what we currently do. Oligarchs presently implements a Residential Advisor Programme, which means that the university employs students living on site and within student accommodation facilities, to perform the work and labour that would ordinarily be carried out by full time equivalent staff.
FISHTAIL (listening attentively, checking her nails, now suddenly happy): Oh, that’s quite creative!
BARRINGTON-BILLS (far less gobsmacked than earlier): Well, I’m certainly learning a lot today!
FROTH (concerned): Creative?
PODDS-LATTE (posh sounding acknowledgement, then brightly seeking): Tell us more, Michaela.
DONTASK (keen and eager, teeth showing, glint in eye): There’s certainly more to tell. Oligarchs has been able to get the Residential Advisors to work all hours, including overnight and throughout weekends, and we haven’t had to pay them at all! Moreover, because the Residential Advisors are not recognised by the university as members of staff, there are no payroll on-costs either!
MONEYWHIFF (excited and relishing the edgy topic): Wonderful! I so love money!
PORTIPPLE (snorting himself wide awake after a brief doze and addressing Dontask): How did you manage to get the students to undertake this role and then carry out these work tasks?
DONTASK (checking herself before answering): Firstly, we advertise the role within the student accommodation facilities, and also around campus with large posters emblazoned with the university header and logo. We also advertise through our jobs board that operates through the university website. We seek applications accompanied by current resumes. We then select the best looking candidates and invite them to interview for the position. We invite them to attend campus on the day of the interview and have them sit before a panel of four and answer some basic questions. Our University Accommodation Coordinator chairs the panel and will have the Accommodation Officer and the Accommodation Assistant, both of which report to the Coordinator, by their side. The fourth university officer is just HR sitting in.
PORTIPPLE (wise to what had appeared to him as delay): Okay, but so far, you have described the selection and interview process for all university staff. Could you be more specific, please?
DONTASK (unphased and undaunted, in the same mode): We offer the Residential Advisors a small discount on the cost of their rent. It amounts to less than half of the weekly rental payment. Please bear in mind that because the university already owns the property and can set the value of rent at any number, there is really no cost to the university here. In fact, the university has very probably increased its profit margin by many millions through employing this scheme.
PODDS-LATTE (inquisitive): So, what sort of activities do the Residential Advisors undertake?
DONTASK (squinting, then back to same mode): When a student who lives within one of our sites locks themselves out of their room or apartment, or perhaps is unable to enter the building, for whatever reason, someone has to be on site to let them back in. The lockout may occur at any time of day or night, including midnight or four in the morning. Can you imagine the penalty rates and call out fees the university would have to pay for if we were to act strictly within the bounds of the law?
PODDS-LATTE (smartly aware): I see your point!
FROTH (reflecting out loud): They never once said anything about this during my time at Krinkle Ladies College!
DONTASK (looking sly): And, you know what else? We make the Residential Advisors do other stuff as well! We have had them work every public holiday over the past year! We don’t even have to deposit cash into a nominated bank account! It’s fascinating, when you consider just how crafty we can be, and there’s absolutely nothing that anyone can do about it!
MONEYWHIFF (tickled pink): We are the cognoscenti! We decide! Others must follow or be cast out!
TREMORASS (crossing and re-crossing his legs before speaking): We do a similar thing at Monocle, although we administer the programme somewhat differently. Monocle offers a Scholarship for the Residential Leader, which can be found through the university website, and which requires the same work tasks to be completed as Michaela has described. It’s of negligible value and really doesn’t cost us anything at all, however, if Monocle was for some reason compelled to pay full time equivalent staff to perform this work, it would cost us somewhere in the vicinity of tens of millions each year.
PORTIPPLE (face flush and summarising): So, as I now understand it, both Oligarchs and Monocle are undermining the federal minimum rate, which remains unlawful, and are doing so rather successfully, as both universities continue to profit enormously from the implementation and operation of this illegal scheme.
TREMORASS (suddenly indignant): Don’t drag me into this unlawfulness! Monocle offers a scholarship precisely so that it doesn’t have to pay salaries!
PORTIPPLE (patient, seemingly aware despite the earlier brandy): Regardless of the precise means of motivation, I think the mechanics of the actual work being performed matches what goes on at Oligarchs…
TREMORASS (abrupt and remaining indignant): We have looked at this very carefully! Who is it that says it is illegal anyway? Troublemakers, that’s who!!
PODDS-LATTE (suddenly eager): Has there been any troublemakers?
TREMORASS (sneering): A few have complained that the Scholarship for the Residential Leader is really just a ruse to make ordinary labour appear to be a glamourous university award of distinction.
PODDS-LATTE (pursuing): And, is it?
TREMORASS (now sneering at Podds-Latte): Of course it is!
DONTASK (showing off): We had a couple of troublemakers complain to us about the Residential Advisor Programme. Our University Accommodation Coordinator dealt with this matter simply by informing the Residential Advisors that they were not employed by the University, but rather, they were employed by a secret entity which the Accommodation Coordinator would only describe as The Owner.
PODDS-LATTE (mental gears clicking): And the Residential Advisors just accepted this, even though they had been interviewed by the University Accommodation Coordinator, who sat amongst the Accommodation Officer and the Accommodation Assistant, and the same interview was conducted face to face and upon the physical campus?
DONTASK (unphased): Well, it was a trifle challenging, given that the Residential Advisors were provided with the distinct impression that the University was their employer.
PODDS-LATTE (pursuing): How distinct, precisely?
DONTASK (still unphased): The Residential Advisors are required to attend a weekly meeting upon campus, at a time of the university’s choosing, and which is chaired by the University Accommodation Coordinator. The Residential Advisors must also organise and attend various social nights for the student residents living within their respective accommodation facilities, each of which demands an activity focussed evening held within an apartment block filled with students. And then, the Residential Advisors must answer all local enquiries in person and over the mobile phone, which the university provides to them to receive incoming calls only.
PODDS-LATTE (assembling): Well, that is rather distinct!
DONTASK (attempting to be philosophical but sounding cruel): You simply cannot make money by being nice!
MONEYWHIFF (daring and provocative): Someone has to get hurt, eh?!
DONTASK (suddenly bored): Can we change the subject?
PORTIPPLE (clears throat and comes back to life): So, as far as I am able to ascertain, U-War currently owns, operates, and maintains a programme of exploitation in which students are conned into performing the work that really should be undertaken by a full time equivalent staff member. And, in a strident attempt to avoid any legal repercussions, current and former university managers have set about informing or misleading these same students, in an effort to convince them that the Residential Advisors have entered into formal legal arrangements in the form of a workplace contract with a secret person or organisation, whom they have never met.
DONTASK (quick look of concern, then blasé): So what?!
PORTIPPLE (responding kindly): Just trying to formulate a clear picture.
FISHTAIL (piping up, politely enquiring of no one in particular): We’re all incredibly wealthy, can’t we just do what we want?!
TREMORASS (sudden change of tone): I’ll be right back!
And at this juncture, a brief break was taken. Tremorass had vacated himself from the conference room, whilst Booringham waved in the help, who in turn dispensed warm beverages to anyone requiring liquid sustenance, which was everyone remaining in the conference room. Fishtail and Dontask conversed quietly with one another whilst Moneywhiff noshed a bickie soaked in coffee. Abernathy looked about and considered that he had better speak up soon. Bust and Cashman engaged one another in spirited debate regarding the best bets currently available to large investors. Podds-Latte, along with Barrington-Bills and Froth, had shifted themselves to one end of the room for a quick catchup between former Krinkle girls. Blitzkrieg sipped her coffee and glanced over the room. Portipple also sipped a coffee and looked wistfully at the empty snifter. Tremorass presently returned, looking lighter, and sat down somewhat tenderly. Booringham nodded to him.
BOORINGHAM (looking at Abernathy): How is everything at TCU?
ABERNATHY (relieved to be asked a question): We are having a slight bit of trouble, to be honest.
BOORINGHAM (clueless but feigning interest): What trouble?
ABERNATHY (meekly): As you may know, until recently TCU was simply a technical college. After the change, we became a university, but it has cost our institution a pretty penny. In fact, it has cost us all of our capital works funding and a good portion of our operational budget for the next five years.
BOORINGHAM (becoming interested): So, the change from technical college to university is an expensive one?
ABERNATHY (still meek): It is. But the real problem is teaching staff. Now that we are a university level graduating institution, TCU must employ a certain number of teachers that have completed doctorates and master’s degrees. The salary cost alone is phenomenal!
MONEYWHIFF (sticking his nose in, although he never saw it that way): And now, you can’t pay the higher salaries of your new staff!
ABERNATHY (defeatedly): TCU cannot get new staff at all! We have no money available for increased salary costs.
FROTH (politely inquiring): Is TCU enrolling students in university level courses?
ABERNATHY (slightly louder, finding some confidence): TCU currently has over three hundred university level student enrolments. Around two hundred and fifty of this cohort are enrolled into undergraduate courses, and the rest, a little under a hundred, are pursuing postgraduate pathways.
FROTH (becoming wise): But who is running the courses and teaching the students?
ABERNATHY (remaining confident): Our current crop of teaching staff.
FROTH (wondering if Abernathy is an idiot): But your current crop of teaching staff is not qualified to teach university level courses.
ABERNATHY (aware of something, perhaps not sure of what): Well, yes, if you put it like that.
FROTH (trying to be direct without appearing to break deportment): Might this not lead to trouble of some kind?
ABERNATHY (suddenly hardened, doesn’t suit him): Well, many of the students have paid their fees upfront, and TCU can’t just give the money back.
FROTH (finding it quite difficult to penetrate into Abernathy’s mind): Whyever not?
ABERNATHY (with finality): Because we’ve already spent the money!
BARRINGTON-BILLS (sensing some juicy gossip): Can I ask, whatever did TCU spend the money on?
ABERNATHY (afraid of being mocked): the Vice-Chancellor’s Christmas Party.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (derisive humour): Did the VC spend a month in Monaco?
ABERNATHY (first firm, then a little cautiously): No, Hillary, I did not spend a month in Monaco. What I did was host a series of events over a December week, during which two people fell down the stairs after consuming champagne that had I purchased and supplied to them. Each is suing TCU for several million. Then, to top it off, our petty cash was stolen.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (her best grave expression): How much was in the petty cash jar?
ABERNATHY (afraid of being mocked again): Two hundred thousand dollars.
MONEYWHIFF (head turning to face Abernathy, eyebrows raised, barely stifling a laugh): Two hundred thousand! What on earth are you lot doing over there?
BARRINGTON-BILLS (gently pursuing): Why was TCU’s petty cash jar so full?
ABERNATHY (meekly): We wanted to host a New Year’s Party as well.
BARRINGTON-BILLS (sensing it was time to drop the topic): Ah ha.
Booringham sniffed the air and nodded to no one in particular. Tremorass shifted himself about gingerly within his seat. Blitzkrieg scanned the room and sized people up. Cashman rubbed his hands together and appeared to be about to speak but said nothing. Bust was starting to look a little forlorn as the day wore on. Dontask brought her feet together and admired at her shiny black shoes.
PODDS-LATTE (appearing chipper and primarily focussing her attention on Abernathy): At Privilege we have come up with a unique way to fund the Office of the Vice-Chancellor.
ABERNATHY (hopeful): Really?
PODDS-LATTE (slightly excited): We did indeed. We waited until all departmental annual budgets for the upcoming year were submitted and approved. Then, we simply applied a five percent charge to every university department.
MONEYWHIFF (incorrigible and with feet stamping excitedly): Oh, I like this!
ABERNATHY (attempts to understand): So, at Privilege you simply taxed everyone to the value of five percent of their upcoming budgets?
PODDS-LATTE (confirming): We did.
ABERNATHY (perhaps considering his own popularity): And everyone was happy to comply?
PODDS-LATTE (sure of herself): What does it matter? I’m the Vice-Chancellor and I can do whatever I want to do with my university. If I say pay up, then you pay up!
MONEYWHIFF (enjoying himself): Oh, that’s it! That’s it!
ABERNATHY (starting to switch on, looking at Podds-Latte): Any other ideas?
PODDS-LATTE (speaking slowly at first, like a presenting undergraduate): Well, Privilege really doesn’t have the urban space for new buildings. Our footprint is quite small, as our buildings tend to be high towers.
ABERNATHY (following): Yes.
PODDS-LATTE (increasing pace of speech): Well, the recent pandemic forced many of our students to take up learning remotely. Although the pandemic is now over, rather than encouraging our students to return to campus, we simply did the opposite.
ABERNATHY (slightly confused): How do you mean?
PODDS-LATTE (in the flow of things): Well, Privilege now encourages our students to study from home, or otherwise study remotely. It is identified as our preferred mode of study. A major benefit to this approach is that the empty floorspace can then be leased via the rental market.
ABERNATHY (understanding at last): So, get the students off campus and move in rent-paying clients?
PODDS-LATTE (with certainty): Absolutely! Now Privilege has two income streams, one from the fee-paying students, and another from the rent-paying tenants!
BOORINGHAM (seizing a moment to contribute something): If only the teaching staff could be moved on as well! We could rent out that floorspace too!
PODDS-LATTE (ecstatic): That’s what I was coming to! The teaching staff at Privilege has been ordered to operate remotely as well! If the students can do it, then why not the teachers also?!
BOORINGHAM (awestruck and then nodding supportively, perhaps too much so): Wow! Privilege really is about privilege!
PODDS-LATTE (still ecstatic): That’s so true! Quite recently, we secured leasing arrangements for a medical storage facility on campus and our newest rent-paying tenants are currently ensconced in the old teaching and research laboratory!
ABERNATHY (still learning): So, get the teachers off campus, and rent out that floorspace too?
MONEYWHIFF (impatient): C’mon Abernathy, isn’t it obvious? You empty out everything and then lease back the shell to local business! The rental income alone pays for the building and for your generous remuneration. We’re the lords of the land!
ABERNATHY (meekly): Well, I hadn’t thought about it like that.
MONEYWHIFF (countering and finishing): Well, start, dammit, start!
FROTH (a flash of concern once again): A university without students or teachers?
MONEYWHIFF (smugly): Isn’t it marvellous? The virtual world takes care of education, and the students still pay through the nose as they always have. And, in the process of what we call modernisation, we find ourselves landlords of enormous buildings and campuses and university estates, which we can lease out to whomever and continue to collect rental income.
ABERNATHY (obsequiously): That sounds quite smart!
MONEYWHIFF (smugly revealing): And you know what? Eastern Shores did not even purchase the buildings or pay for its own campus to begin with. Everything was gifted to us! Ha! Ha! Ha! What a time to be alive!
PODDS-LATTE (agreeing, confirming): What a time indeed!
THE END
Punk Human 
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