Yesterday, I mentioned we were to have a depart-only budget meeting, to hash and divy up the spoils of the land-trust. I was told it had been a messy process in the past, and with Mr. “Don’t cut MY pay” attending, I was expecting craziness – IEDs and anti-aircraft missile craziness. Turned out to go pretty well.
We started with a spread sheet that had the subject, number of students enrolled, money requested, and then number of dollars per student. Some classed, like Welding, were running near 300 bucks per student, while my classes were looking like 50 smackeroos. Then again, welding has a lot of consumables, and, well, animation not so much. Everybody gave up something in the end, except for one guy. Yep. You guessed it. Mr. “Don’t cut MY pay.” He sat quietly, not saying a thing. He didn’t offer anything. He didn’t suggest anything for anybody else. He just sat there. His plan to remain unnoticed almost worked, but my Mentor has a keen eye. With a mere $1,106 left to cut, my Mentor asked him directly. What was his response?
Mr. “Don’t cut MY pay.” – “Can we leave if I take out $1,106?”
Mentor – “Yes, we can.”
Mr. “Don’t cut MY pay.” – “Then let’s do it. I can cut eleven o’six. Let’s go.”
Done, and done. Others cut much more, but at least this way everybody gave up a bit. Secretly, I was hoping for just a little more drama, maybe a jump-across-the-table strangulation, or a WWF chair toss, but no, it just didn’t happen. Oh well.