Steamed

handed us each a forty-page list of required reading. According to his plan, I was to read approximately six thousand pages from nineteen different sources each day. And should I find myself thirsty for even more social policy information, I could jump from the required to the recommended list. I would also be writing a ten-page midterm paper and a twenty-five-page final paper. Then Mr. Slave Driver told us to go buy our books and sent us on our way. That’s just a sample. The rest of my classes that week were equally horrifying.
    The good news was that I had morning classes only; my afternoons were free. I waited until after the week’s final boring lecture on Friday morning to go buy my books. The cramped bookstore was overflowing with students, and I had to shove my way through to the back to reach the social work section. I started pulling books off the shelves, and by the time I’d filled my little basket, I realized that there was no way I could carry all these books, never mind do all the reading. I was going to have no life whatsoever. I started to panic. What had I done? I was going to flunk out of school. And embarrass my dead uncle. I stood staring at my book list in disbelief. The basket was full, my arms were aching, and I had the books for only two of my classes.
    “Honey, you don’t need to buy all those books, you know.” I turned to my left to see a six-foot bald guy in a tight yellow T-shirt. On his face was an expression of genuine pity. His gold ear clips and blue-tinted sunglasses were making me guess gay—but I’d been wrong before. He reached over and grabbed the papers out of my hands. “Okay, now who do you have for General Practice? Oh, Wolfmann. So, you only need these two textbooks, and, well, maybe this paperback here.” My savior reached into my basket and put back seven books for me. “I’m Doug Kingsley. I’m a doctoral student here. Thank God I found you, or you’d probably go home and put a bullet through your head thinking you’d have to spend the rest of your life trying to read all this crap.”
    “Hi, I’m Chloe. Thank you so much. I was beginning to think I’d need a truck to get all these books back home.”
    “Yeah, they like to scare all the first-year students by throwing the syllabus at you the first day and telling you all the reading you supposedly have to do. Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. Nobody does all the assigned reading. You’ll figure out what you have to read and what you don’t.” Doctoral Doug finished helping me select what to buy and what to toss back on the shelves. “And I probably just saved you six thousand dollars in book costs, so you’ll have to buy me a mochaccino sometime.” Definitely gay. Damn.
    “I’ll buy you any caffeinated beverage of your choice. Thank you so much for your help. I am totally lost here.” Doug wrote down his phone number for me and said to call him if I needed anything. He’d gone home after his first day of classes and wept like a baby, he said, so the least he could do was prevent that from happening to another student.
    I lugged my books home from school, checked my voice mail, and listened to a message from Heather, who demanded to know all the torrid details of my romantic Back Bay date and asked why hadn’t I called her all week, and so on. I decided to call her later. The last thing I felt like doing was telling my horror story one more time. I also had a message from my parents to announce their return from Bar Harbor, Maine, and to invite me to stop by. That would have to wait, too. I called my new supervisor, Naomi, to check in about my internship. I mean field placement.
    “Boston Organization Against Sexual and Other Harassment in the Workplace. This is Naomi, how can I help you?” Oh God, please don’t make me answer the phone there. I explained who I was and asked about starting next week.
    “Excellent,” Naomi said enthusiastically. “I’m glad you called. I was actually wondering if you could pop by this afternoon so I can show you around and get you set up for Monday. I have to go to a coalition rally at the State House early next week, so if I could get you situated before then, that would be great.”
    I groaned silently but agreed to come in at two and decided I’d park in one of those expensive parking garages. I’d thought that the school misery was over for the week, but now I had to go downtown and deal with this organization with the ridiculous name. This