Posted March 01, 2016
The year is 1936.
It is not the greatest of years. The world is just beginning to realize the scope of the economic hole it is in. War is still fresh in everyone’s minds, and fresh in everyone’s fears. Still, it is not all bad. It is a time of great achievement in science and engineering – and in social progress.
Fresh from the triumphs of Suffrage, here in a small Eastern seaboard town in the USA, one woman has had a vision. A vision to create an elite University, open only to women from around the world, to gather in one place to study business. Here, they can work, co-habitate, study, and learn all there is to know in the worlds of finance, accounting, marketing, and all other aspects of organizational management. One place that will one day stand beside Wharton, Sloan, and others. That place is…
The Women’s Institute For Organizational Management.
That woman is Dr. M.A. Sloth, Founder and Dean of the new school, and it is she who has gathered you all here today. One by one, you all filed in to the massive faculty boardroom.
“Ahem”, she began. “I know we have already met one another while moving into our offices, and of course at the cocktail social last night,” A few chuckles and groans greeted this, especially from trentonlf, who was holding her head and moaning. “But this is our first formal meeting. The fifteen of us will form the initial faculty. I am just so proud… so, so very proud of my… uh, of all of us.” Thirteen equally proud women nodded agreement. Only JMich, still clad in dark sunglasses, sat silent and perfectly still at the large boardroom table.
The next few hours were spent getting to know one another, organizing class schedules, discussing recruitment, and the like. After one particularly difficult discussion, it was finally agreed that CSPVG’s suggestion to make cricket the official school sport would pass, as Leonard03 couldn’t gain enough support for hockey.
“You know, JMich, I just realized you haven’t said a word this entire time,” announced Dean Sloth abruptly. “What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?” She gave the silent Professor a solid shove.
A shove which landed her face down on the table, the knife protruding rudely from her back now finally visible.
JMich is Dead. She was: Dr. Jamie C. Hellas, Professor of Economics (TOWN PLOT DEVICE)
“OOoooOOOOHGHHH!! ! Are you kidding me? That just makes me SO MAD!” began the Dean. “I worked SO HARD to get this pulled together, and right from the get go, one of you morons has the nerve to get killed! The first student hasn’t even walked in through the door!”
“Is she dead?” cried Dessimu.
“Well she’s cold as a Pop-Tart on a winter morning, so yes, I’d say so” said agentcarr16, checking for a pulse.
“You know, she was the first one here this morning,” flubbucket informed the group. “I know because I was the second.”
Drealmer7 noisily vomited into the potted plant in the corner.
“Can I have her shoes?” asked cristigale.
“That’s disgusting and ghoulish,” replied Hunter65536. “I want her handbag.”
Lacking anything more constructive to do, HypersomniacLive resorted to throwing her hands in the air and making “hrrrrrm”ing noises.
Lifthrasil and dedoporno barely noticed, as they were still arguing on the pronunciation of “homeogenesis”.
“Heh,” said Krypsyn.
“All of you, just shut up!” screamed the enraged Dean. Silence descended.
“There’s a note pinned under the blade. While you inbred halfwits were hemming and hawing, I took a look. I should have known.” Her eyes narrowed, decades of hatred burning fire from the pits of her soul. “It was them.”
“Them?” asked the group.
“They’ve tried to undermine me this entire time. Those simple-minded bunch of sock-darners across Town. Trying to upstage me. Trying to undermine me. I’ve spent a fortune getting this school started… after all that work… grandpa’s hard-earned money… and they’re trying to ruin me…”
At this point, she was muttering angrily, and nobody really knew what she was talking about. After a few prods, she finally noticed her attentive faculty again.
“Them. Those… no, I won’t use that word. But those… businesswomen of ill repute… with their damn association.” She sighed and began to read the bloody note aloud:
“Attention Women – there is only one Graduate level business school for Women in Town, and that’s us. So IN YOUR FACE!!! Signed, the Ladies’ Associated Management Institute of Science and Technology.”
The group was shocked. Everyone had heard of the dark evil growing in the corners of town, where innocent women had been kidnapped and forced into a life of organizational management, but until now, nobody had really believed it.
“Oh, they’re real, all right,” began Dean Sloth, reading everyone’s minds. “And I bet some of you are mixed up in it, aren’t you? Well, we’ll find you! I am going to lock the door here in the boardroom, and we are not leaving until we figure out who did this. I want you all to figure it out. I have worked too hard to have it all go tits-up now. Uh, figuratively speaking. Search among yourselves and bring me one of the traitors, and we’ll… discuss her tenure.” And with that, she got up, and true to her word locked and bolted the doors.
Sitting back down, she glared at the group.
“Get to work,” she demanded.
It is not the greatest of years. The world is just beginning to realize the scope of the economic hole it is in. War is still fresh in everyone’s minds, and fresh in everyone’s fears. Still, it is not all bad. It is a time of great achievement in science and engineering – and in social progress.
Fresh from the triumphs of Suffrage, here in a small Eastern seaboard town in the USA, one woman has had a vision. A vision to create an elite University, open only to women from around the world, to gather in one place to study business. Here, they can work, co-habitate, study, and learn all there is to know in the worlds of finance, accounting, marketing, and all other aspects of organizational management. One place that will one day stand beside Wharton, Sloan, and others. That place is…
The Women’s Institute For Organizational Management.
That woman is Dr. M.A. Sloth, Founder and Dean of the new school, and it is she who has gathered you all here today. One by one, you all filed in to the massive faculty boardroom.
“Ahem”, she began. “I know we have already met one another while moving into our offices, and of course at the cocktail social last night,” A few chuckles and groans greeted this, especially from trentonlf, who was holding her head and moaning. “But this is our first formal meeting. The fifteen of us will form the initial faculty. I am just so proud… so, so very proud of my… uh, of all of us.” Thirteen equally proud women nodded agreement. Only JMich, still clad in dark sunglasses, sat silent and perfectly still at the large boardroom table.
The next few hours were spent getting to know one another, organizing class schedules, discussing recruitment, and the like. After one particularly difficult discussion, it was finally agreed that CSPVG’s suggestion to make cricket the official school sport would pass, as Leonard03 couldn’t gain enough support for hockey.
“You know, JMich, I just realized you haven’t said a word this entire time,” announced Dean Sloth abruptly. “What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?” She gave the silent Professor a solid shove.
A shove which landed her face down on the table, the knife protruding rudely from her back now finally visible.
JMich is Dead. She was: Dr. Jamie C. Hellas, Professor of Economics (TOWN PLOT DEVICE)
“OOoooOOOOHGHHH!! ! Are you kidding me? That just makes me SO MAD!” began the Dean. “I worked SO HARD to get this pulled together, and right from the get go, one of you morons has the nerve to get killed! The first student hasn’t even walked in through the door!”
“Is she dead?” cried Dessimu.
“Well she’s cold as a Pop-Tart on a winter morning, so yes, I’d say so” said agentcarr16, checking for a pulse.
“You know, she was the first one here this morning,” flubbucket informed the group. “I know because I was the second.”
Drealmer7 noisily vomited into the potted plant in the corner.
“Can I have her shoes?” asked cristigale.
“That’s disgusting and ghoulish,” replied Hunter65536. “I want her handbag.”
Lacking anything more constructive to do, HypersomniacLive resorted to throwing her hands in the air and making “hrrrrrm”ing noises.
Lifthrasil and dedoporno barely noticed, as they were still arguing on the pronunciation of “homeogenesis”.
“Heh,” said Krypsyn.
“All of you, just shut up!” screamed the enraged Dean. Silence descended.
“There’s a note pinned under the blade. While you inbred halfwits were hemming and hawing, I took a look. I should have known.” Her eyes narrowed, decades of hatred burning fire from the pits of her soul. “It was them.”
“Them?” asked the group.
“They’ve tried to undermine me this entire time. Those simple-minded bunch of sock-darners across Town. Trying to upstage me. Trying to undermine me. I’ve spent a fortune getting this school started… after all that work… grandpa’s hard-earned money… and they’re trying to ruin me…”
At this point, she was muttering angrily, and nobody really knew what she was talking about. After a few prods, she finally noticed her attentive faculty again.
“Them. Those… no, I won’t use that word. But those… businesswomen of ill repute… with their damn association.” She sighed and began to read the bloody note aloud:
“Attention Women – there is only one Graduate level business school for Women in Town, and that’s us. So IN YOUR FACE!!! Signed, the Ladies’ Associated Management Institute of Science and Technology.”
The group was shocked. Everyone had heard of the dark evil growing in the corners of town, where innocent women had been kidnapped and forced into a life of organizational management, but until now, nobody had really believed it.
“Oh, they’re real, all right,” began Dean Sloth, reading everyone’s minds. “And I bet some of you are mixed up in it, aren’t you? Well, we’ll find you! I am going to lock the door here in the boardroom, and we are not leaving until we figure out who did this. I want you all to figure it out. I have worked too hard to have it all go tits-up now. Uh, figuratively speaking. Search among yourselves and bring me one of the traitors, and we’ll… discuss her tenure.” And with that, she got up, and true to her word locked and bolted the doors.
Sitting back down, she glared at the group.
“Get to work,” she demanded.
Post edited March 01, 2016 by yogsloth
