insanityINSANITY chapter 9
His silent sudden departure brought not relief but instead even greater mystery and increased alarm. Dr. Carl, the business management instructor whose office cubicle was just across the aisle from my own, had followed Wyatt out of the office, down the corridor to Techno's front door, and out of the building and halfway into the main parking lot.
“I thought I’d better see just where he was headed,” Dr. Carl told me later. “I was afraid he might go to his vehicle, get his gun, come back, and start shooting. But he just jumped into his pickup and drove off.”
Wyatt’s noisy harangue had created a stir—to say the least—in the building. Who was this man? Why was he so mad? What had I done to provoke him so? What did he want? Where had he gone? Was he coming back? Was he dangerous? Should he be permitted to re-enter the building? Were his death threats illegal? Had he committed any crime? Could he be arrested? Expelled? Suspended? Refused admission? Permanently barred? Should armed guards be posted at the doors? The doors locked? What was the proper legal procedure? What were the institution’s rights? What were Wyatt’s rights? What should be done? What could be done? What would be done?
College faculty and staff began wandering back to my cubicle to ask me questions. They gathered in small groups of two and three to exchange stories. Some speculated in whispers. They cast furtive glances in my direction, occasionally turning their heads or covering their mouths with their hands to conceal questions or remarks. Fingers pointed in my direction and toward the route Wyatt had taken to exit. Sam, the Techno security guard who had left me in the lurch, returned to apologize and to explain.
“I’m really sorry to have left you like that,” he said.
I nodded.
“But my standing orders," Sam explained, "were to never lay hands on a student—never ever under any circumstances no matter what. When the student refused my request, I didn’t know what to do next. I had to leave you in order to contact my supervisor and to find out how I should proceed.”
“No harm done,” I said. “Thanks for trying to help.”
“I’m really sorry,” Sam said again.
“Forget it,” I said. “None of this is your fault.”
I could see the guard was angry. He had been defied. Had he been humiliated? He fidgeted and stared at his feet as he spoke with me, occasionally lifting his head apologetically to look me in the eye, then shifting his glance away from me to his feet again. His embarrassment and shame were strangely contagious. I too began to feel guilty of something. Why had I just sat there submissively for so long while Wyatt cursed and threatened me? Should I have asserted myself? Talked back? I hadn’t even stood up. Sam handed me some papers and pointed. I filled out the report while the guard waited.
“That son of a bitch!" Sam hissed through clenched teeth.
"Yeah," I said.
"Orders or no orders I should’ve cleaned his clock!” he muttered.
............................................
INSANITY to be continued
His silent sudden departure brought not relief but instead even greater mystery and increased alarm. Dr. Carl, the business management instructor whose office cubicle was just across the aisle from my own, had followed Wyatt out of the office, down the corridor to Techno's front door, and out of the building and halfway into the main parking lot.
“I thought I’d better see just where he was headed,” Dr. Carl told me later. “I was afraid he might go to his vehicle, get his gun, come back, and start shooting. But he just jumped into his pickup and drove off.”
Wyatt’s noisy harangue had created a stir—to say the least—in the building. Who was this man? Why was he so mad? What had I done to provoke him so? What did he want? Where had he gone? Was he coming back? Was he dangerous? Should he be permitted to re-enter the building? Were his death threats illegal? Had he committed any crime? Could he be arrested? Expelled? Suspended? Refused admission? Permanently barred? Should armed guards be posted at the doors? The doors locked? What was the proper legal procedure? What were the institution’s rights? What were Wyatt’s rights? What should be done? What could be done? What would be done?
College faculty and staff began wandering back to my cubicle to ask me questions. They gathered in small groups of two and three to exchange stories. Some speculated in whispers. They cast furtive glances in my direction, occasionally turning their heads or covering their mouths with their hands to conceal questions or remarks. Fingers pointed in my direction and toward the route Wyatt had taken to exit. Sam, the Techno security guard who had left me in the lurch, returned to apologize and to explain.
“I’m really sorry to have left you like that,” he said.
I nodded.
“But my standing orders," Sam explained, "were to never lay hands on a student—never ever under any circumstances no matter what. When the student refused my request, I didn’t know what to do next. I had to leave you in order to contact my supervisor and to find out how I should proceed.”
“No harm done,” I said. “Thanks for trying to help.”
“I’m really sorry,” Sam said again.
“Forget it,” I said. “None of this is your fault.”
I could see the guard was angry. He had been defied. Had he been humiliated? He fidgeted and stared at his feet as he spoke with me, occasionally lifting his head apologetically to look me in the eye, then shifting his glance away from me to his feet again. His embarrassment and shame were strangely contagious. I too began to feel guilty of something. Why had I just sat there submissively for so long while Wyatt cursed and threatened me? Should I have asserted myself? Talked back? I hadn’t even stood up. Sam handed me some papers and pointed. I filled out the report while the guard waited.
“That son of a bitch!" Sam hissed through clenched teeth.
"Yeah," I said.
"Orders or no orders I should’ve cleaned his clock!” he muttered.
............................................
INSANITY to be continued
