Answers to Karen Roothan’s Algebra Quiz #1:

I can easily earn this amount of money pulling weeds without having to dress up or wear a bra. These figures may be too high for teachers who have to grade large amounts of written work, such as English Composition teachers. I would love to see figures from other schools as well. Let’s call them out on this big time and let our students know just where their tuition dollars are NOT going.

1a) 66 hrs b) 6 hrs c) 11 hrs d) 83 hrs, \$20.48 per hour
2a) 33 hrs b) 55 hrs c) 88 + 83 = 171 hrs, \$9.94 per hour
3a) 66 hrs b) 110 hrs c) 176 + 83 = 259 hrs, \$6.56 per hr
4) Answers will vary

Note: these figures are based on East-West University in Chicago.

# Adjunct Algebra Quiz #1

by Karen Roothan

1. Adjunct professor M.T.Pockets (“MTP”) is paid \$1700 per quarter to teach a class that meets three days a week for eleven weeks. Each class meets for two hours.
a) How many hours will MTP work to earn \$1700?
b) No wait, there are also three mandatory meetings per quarter that last two hours each, so add those on.
c) Did I mention that MTP is also required to hold one office hour per week?
d) Find the total number of hours MTP will have to work per quarter, and calculate the hourly rate of pay.

2. Of course teaching, meetings, and office hours are not the only responsibilities involved. To get a more complete picture, complete sections a through c.
a) MTP is an experienced instructor who has taught this class before, so prep time will be minimal. Assume one hour of prep time for every two-hour class. How many hours of prep time are required?
b) MTP is also required to give two homework assignments and one quiz each week. Assume one hour to grade each quiz and 1.5 hours to grade each assignment. Add on an hour per week for entering grades, updating attendance records, and other such tasks. Find the total number of hours needed for grading and record keeping.
c) Using the additional information from parts a and b, recalculate the hourly rate of pay.

3. (Extra Credit) If MTP were not experienced, the times needed for grading, prep, and record keeping would double. Use these higher figures to determine how much per hour an inexperienced teacher would earn.

4. (Essay Question) How do your answers to problems 2 and 3 compare to the local minimum wage in your area? Does this affect your thoughts on the economic value of higher education?

Post your answers in the comments. First correct answer wins the “Adjunct Holiday Survival Gift Basket” including ramen, toilet paper, candles for when your lights get turned off or you are living in a cardboard box, and the university football jersey of your choice.

# The Faculty Caste System: Auto-Ethnography of an Adjunct, Part 2

by Ruth Wangerin

The higher caste in academia. Caste has been the solution chosen by higher priced academic labor. They maintain that certain tasks and qualifications are theirs alone, and they try to get this written into the contract.

• Tenure track professors define the upper caste: Only they are hired by a national search, only they are worthy because they’re doing research and have lots of publications, only they are “real” professors.
• They monopolize certain jobs: college governance, advising students, setting curricula.
• They have sacred spaces: commencement, official college and university publications, faculty meetings, private faculty offices, faculty senate.

Adjuncts may or may not accept the idea that tenure-track faculty are doing a better job teaching than they are. But adjuncts do know that they aren’t paid for any of those activities and so they don’t try to participate, even if invited. It’s really difficult to get an adjunct to attend a meeting because we have pride – we’re not paid to attend meetings. (The same 2-3 adjuncts hold all token positions for adjunct faculty for my college and perhaps for CUNY, and have for many years. [When the election is held, there’s no publicity and most adjuncts I know are completely mystified – What’s this about? Who are these people? Why do we only get two reps?])

The only reason the caste system is still working to some extent is that tenure track faculty have some power and influence, students and families admire professors, and many administrators have some belief in higher education as a public good.

Dedication to caste, even by union leadership. My union is suspected of being of the tenured, by the tenured, and for the tenured. One of the officers recently said,

“[D]ecades of underinvestment by the State and City have led to a massive reliance on adjuncts, whose underpaid labor allows CUNY to stay afloat as enrollment rises.” (Steve London, 3/6/15)

Let’s deconstruct this and note the assumptions:

• The statement implies alliance with or at least sympathy for the employer, who is portrayed as helplessly forced into “reliance on” (not use of) “underpaid labor” (underpaid by whom?) to “stay afloat.”
• Note the use of the “political passive” voice. They “have [been] led to a massive reliance on adjuncts.” Why would a union hesitate to say that the employer is actively exploiting some of the workers?
• The grammar implies a way of thinking called “essentializing” in sociology: portraying the situation of a whole category of people as due to something in their essential nature, rather than to decisions made by a society or by some actors. In the above quote, and the rest of the statement, it’s clear that for this union leader the essential nature of people employed as adjuncts is “underpaid labor.”
• What does “underpaid” mean? From the point of view of higher paid labor, anything under their wage rate is underpaid.

To many in my union leadership, the majority of the members of our union are seen as outsiders, the Other (“underpaid labor”), not as fellow faculty who are being cheated. If CUNY has been forced to rely on outsiders because of underfunding, then once the funding improves, wouldn’t it make sense to replace the outsiders with people like themselves, people recruited in a national search, people who will bolster the strength of the higher caste?

Perhaps that is the plan. Our union leaders always talk about the need to have more full-time faculty, citing studies that full-timers are better for the educational mission. And with not a touch of self-awareness or shame, they complain that salaries are too low (they mean the salaries for full time positions—apparently it’s not polite to complain about the low wages for part-time positions) to attract and retain top scholars. In this atmosphere, is it any wonder that many contingents suspect that some of our “brothers and sisters” dream of replacing us with highly paid, prominent scholars who would uplift the prestige of the university’s brand and therefore of their own personal brands as Faculty (with a capital F) of that university. That would explain why they seem content with a proposed system of partial job security that would only apply to a small percentage of the contingents.

Are faculty losing the fight for the soul of higher education?

Today, corporate-minded college administrators seem to be winning. Not only do they keep raising tuition and paying low wages to a high percentage of the instructional staff. They are also steadily turning potentially higher priced labor – people with PhDs, for example – into lower priced labor by refusing to fund sufficient full-time tenure track positions. The situation has reached the point where some universities (such as SUNY and CUNY) feel strong enough to even refuse higher-priced workers’ demands for cost-of-living raise increases. They have simply stalled for years on negotiating a new contract.

With the growing tendency to run universities like corporations, the temptation is strong to believe low-paid instruction will be just fine, especially in non-elite settings. A distinguished professor told me that an unnamed administrator had once confided to him that a university could be run with a handful of full professors and a multitude of adjuncts. No matter how clearly faculty organizations point out that that’s no way to run a college, it seems to be the way we’re headed.

In one (non-CUNY) community college I know, mega-departments assign a textbook from a big company like Pearson that comes with test questions and slides (never mind how shabby and full of errors the slides are) and give adjuncts a standardized “syllabus.” With so few full-time faculty, there is no one to observe or supervise adjunct instructors. The college depends on uniformed security staff to report if an instructor dismisses class early and depends on course evaluations filled out by students online to know if an instructor is teaching an adequate course. Nevertheless, on paper and in the minds of administrators and politicians with no background as actual educators, these “Pearson packages” and syllabi mean the student is getting the same course they would have received from an adequately paid and supported college instructor. What’s next—robots?

Conclusion: Occupy the faculty

It is often pointed out that saving higher education in America will require an alliance between faculty and students. But what if the faculty part of that equation is missing in action?

I’d like to tell my full-time brothers and sisters that caste is no longer working, that while they’re trying to hold onto their privileges, they’re actually allowing the “house” of higher education to burn down. When administrators resist calls for job security for contingent faculty, they talk about their need for “flexibility.” Can’t my tenure-track colleagues read between the lines? Don’t they see that tenure makes them look less than optimally flexible? Do they really believe they are the administrations’ special friends?

In the last few years, contingents have stepped into the breach and breathed new life into faculty organizing. One of the first things we have to do is crash the party where the administration and tenured faculty are toasting each other on the students’ dime. Yes, it’s time to break into the upper caste’s sacred spaces: attend Commencement, go to their meetings (whether we’re welcome or not) and raise our issues, get our names on department websites, run for office, take over our unions, and tell the students the truth. Contingents have to Occupy the Faculty so that there will be a faculty capable of fighting side by side with students for the higher education system we all deserve.

Ruth Wangerin holds a PhD, anthropology from CUNY and an MPH (public health) from Columbia. Her career included public service in NYC, including CUNY, NYC Board of Ed, and Dept. of Health and Mental Hygiene. She was part of organizing campaign at CUNY’s College of Staten Island, among part-time instructional staff. Ruth is married, with two adult kids with advanced degrees whom I hope never have to work for less than a fair going rate. She likes to swim, exercise, cook, laugh a lot. Her mom is still living, and still claims Ruth was a born troublemaker. Life is now calmer in the Catskills.

by Joe Berry
joeberry@igc.org

COCAL is the Coalition of Contingent Academic Labor, a nearly 20-year-old network of contingent activists and their organizations that does a conference (now tri national – USA, CAN, MEX) every other year, usually in August. It also sponsors a listserv, called ADJ-L, and has an International Advisory Committee and a website and Facebook page.

Campus Equity Week
October 26-30, 2015

CAMPUS EQUITY WEEK, 2015

CAMPUS EQUITY WEEK 2015 – Hi Everyone, I just finished listening to the planning meeting on the upcoming Campus Equity Week 2015 (Oct. 26-30). I will see whether I might be able to give you a recording of this meeting soon. You can access information both on facebook and here.

# The Faculty Caste System: Auto-Ethnography of an Adjunct, Part 1

by Ruth Wangerin

### Introduction

A button designed by Anne Wiegard for a UUP event says, “I was contingent before contingents were cool.” Well, I was contingent before anyone had even heard of “contingents.” Specifically, I was hired by the City College of New York in 1970 as an adjunct lecturer when I was in grad school. At that time, the City University of New York did not have graduate assistantships. I have since learned that CUNY had a lot of adjuncts back then, particularly in continuing education courses for which students paid tuition (CUNY was free otherwise, back then).

I was in a regular department teaching undergraduates. It felt like a privilege to get the experience. I loved the anthropology department at City College, it was fun being a “professor” at my young age, and the money helped. However, I wasn’t altogether naïve. I could see that the college was being pretty cheap with us, not only in the rate of pay but also in taking their sweet time getting our first paychecks out each term.

Auto-ethnography. In thinking about what’s happening to the college teaching profession, I realized that I possessed a great deal of data in not only my own experiences but also my own reactions to those experiences. Fellow anthropologist and adjunct activist Yvonne Groseil tells me this is called “auto-ethnography.”

With the distraction of preparing courses and teaching at such a young age, I took a long time to finish my doctorate. But when I did, I resigned the adjunct position, saying it would be unprincipled for anyone with a PhD to work under these arrangements. “Give this job to a grad student,” I nobly proclaimed. The joke’s on me. Nearly half a century after my first adjunct stint, here I am again teaching for peanuts, this time to supplement a pension from the job I found outside academia when I realized that there was no tenure track position in anthropology for me.

And why wasn’t there a tenure track position in anthropology for me? All this time I’ve blamed myself for the bad choices that resulted in my failure to score the job I’d trained for all those years. But was I the only one making bad choices? Didn’t the U.S. system of higher education make a couple of bad choices, too?

Today, some of my grad school cohort are tenured faculty, while others have been contingents since before contingents were cool. So why weren’t there tenure track positions for so many PhDs in my cohort? When we looked around in our grad school classes, many of us were new to these academic heights; we were women, working class, minorities, returning Viet Nam veterans, just like the students who were entering CUNY under open admissions around the same time. Back then, I thought it was a bright new day. But now I think that, as we entered, our society was starting to disinvest in public higher education.

Breaking a taboo! Everything became obvious at commencement. I had decided with two other members of our adjunct organizing committee to rent academic gowns and march in Commencement to demonstrate AAUP’s “one faculty” philosophy. But the others backed out after I had already paid for my gown, and I wasn’t able to get a refund. Thinking about attending Commencement without them, I felt incredibly exposed! Anthropologist Hortense Powdermaker once wrote that when you feel terribly uncomfortable and fear that something dreadful is about to happen – even when what you’re doing is legal and seems perfectly rational – you are probably violating a taboo.

Quite possibly I too would have backed out of the whole adventure had the incoming chairperson of my department not graciously thanked me for volunteering to attend and asked me to meet her before the ceremony. Though there’s no written rule banning adjuncts from Commencement, only tenure track professors put the velvet 8-cornered tam on their heads and march in the Commencement convocation. I had been looking forward to wearing that velvet tam for the first time since my own graduation and posing for pictures with the students, but when I saw that what came with my rental doctoral gown was an ordinary mortarboard, I felt ashamed and exposed all over again. Luckily, within a few minutes (and before I could bear to put the cursed mortarboard on my head), I saw that some other faculty with doctorates were also wearing mortarboards. One of them told me this is what came with all the rental gowns.

In the weeks leading up to Commencement, adjuncts I had spoken with about attending had said they didn’t feel welcome. As far as I know, in the end only four adjunct faculty members attended, and we were the “exceptions” who proved the rule. (A fifth adjunct colleague was on campus that day, but he stayed in the office grading papers.) Two of us marched in the faculty processional: me (feeling self-conscious and out of place) and someone who was technically not an adjunct at that time because she was in a temporary appointment as a full-time substitute. Two other adjunct faculty were at Commence­ment – on the stage, in fact. But though they looked poised, professional, and all-around amazing, they did not don gowns or join the processional; they were attending not as faculty but rather as sign language interpreters.

### A theoretical model: caste* within a split academic labor market

Given that all faculty I’ve ever spoken with have agreed that the pay is too little for the work that adjunct faculty perform, one question has perplexed me all these years: Why don’t tenured faculty demand an end to this system? Why are contingents the only ones who can see that it is destroying the academic profession?

Let’s see if Edna Bonacich’s classic 1972 model of the “split labor market” can explain the tenured faculty’s blind spot, my discomfort at Commencement, and all of the following mysteries:

1. Why the two-tier system persists and even grows;
2. Why “brothers and sisters” in faculty unions and colleagues in academic departments turn a blind eye, cry crocodile tears, or even justify the lower pay scale for contingent faculty;
3. Why some grad student organizers prefer to unite with grad students as far away as the other coast of this country rather than with adjunct faculty on the campuses where they work;
4. Why contingents are rarely interviewed for full-time positions that open up in the departments where they have been teaching; and
5. Why adjuncts need a special invitation to attend “faculty meetings” on our campus, and it’s assumed that they’re not allowed to vote.

Caste. Caste is a system that assigns people permanently to closed social groups ranked from higher to lower. There is virtually no movement from one caste to another, and there’s no socializing between castes.

The clues are everywhere that university faculty are in a caste-like system.

• Adjuncts complain about being looked down on by full-time faculty.
• In a gathering of adjuncts who don’t know each other, they each invariably mention their extensive experience, their PhD (if they have one), and/or their other “real” job, as if to say the stigma doesn’t apply to them.
• Many contingent instructors resent how administrators or full-time faculty may use the word “faculty” to refer to other people, not including them, even when they’re standing right there.
• Inclusion and collegiality are near the top of the wish list for many adjuncts.
• Once made aware of their lack of representation or a role in governance, contingents begin to demand what I call a “path to citizenship.”
• I have sometimes felt like I’m of a different race than the full-time faculty.
• There are places we know we don’t belong; no one even has to tell us: faculty meetings, Faculty Senate, receptions at the President’s house, Commencement.
• Grad students and recent PhDs are sometimes advised to beware being “labeled” by teaching too long in an adjunct position.
• Some union members signing in for a large meeting on my campus acted offended when I asked them if they were adjuncts.
• Some graduate students and full-time faculty cut the conversation short when they learn one is an adjunct – it’s unclear if they have quickly changed their mind as to whether this person has anything to offer, or if they are trying to avoid “pollution” by too much contact with the lower caste .
• Some grad students working in adjunct titles say the grad students with assistantships think they’re superior.

These are the signs of a caste system, somewhat analogous to the American race system. Contingents and part-timers are a lower caste, and full-timers are a higher caste. Grad students are candidates for entrance into the higher caste. We don’t socialize with each other across caste lines. And if we happen to be married across these lines, there are awkward moments for everyone.

A split labor market. According to Bonacich, a caste system can arise because of a split labor market. That means there are two groups of workers who, for whatever reasons, can do the work for significantly different prices – higher priced labor and lower priced labor. The third player in a split labor market is the employer, who wants to get labor cheap and doesn’t mind training lower-priced labor to do the work previously performed by skilled higher-priced labor. The conflict inherent in a split labor market, in which higher-priced labor feels threatened by the existence of lower-priced labor, can result in hostility between the two groups of workers.

In a split labor market, higher priced labor historically has used two strategies to protect their higher wage rate, according to Bonacich:

• Exclusion is the strategy of preventing lower-priced labor from entering the labor market in the first place. Bonacich uses the example of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which kept workers from immigrating from China to the Pacific coast of the USA.
• Caste is the fallback strategy when exclusion is impossible, when the lower-priced workers are already in the labor market. In this case, higher-priced workers form an uneasy alliance with the employer class to try to protect their own wage rate. Certain jobs and titles are reserved for higher-priced labor. Bonacich cites Jim Crow laws in the US South, which set up a protected sphere of “white” jobs and business markets that were off limits to several million newly freed African American workers and potential entrepreneurs.

Clearly, college teaching is a split labor market. For years now, graduate assistantships and many kinds of contingent instructor positions have been used by university administrations as a way to purchase academic instructional services for a lower rate than what is commanded by the prestigious, organized, tenure-track professoriate.

Clearly, exclusion has failed, if it was ever even attempted. The colleges are full of a “new majority” of professionals teaching classes at the lower rates of grad assistants, part-timers, and contingents.

When exclusion fails, predicts Bonacich, higher-priced labor, the professoriate, will depend on a caste system to protect its wage rate. It will reserve higher paid jobs for themselves and relegate lower-priced workers to a stigmatized category with many restrictions and a lower wage scale.

________________

Ed.: More on the caste system in academe in Part 2 of this article, coming soon.

*”Caste” has been used in numerous ways to describe adjuncts’ situation: in a piece on the Chicago COCAL site in 2003 (http://www.chicagococal.org/news/Burros-of-Academia.htm) and Pablo Eiseberg’s piece from 2012 (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/pablo-eisenberg/caste-system-higher-education_b_1853917.html).  An adjunct in history at AU gave a paper at the SEIU500 conference in 2011 also explored the caste metaphor. –Maria Maisto

Ruth Wangerin holds a PhD, anthropology from CUNY and an MPH (public health) from Columbia. Her career included public service in NYC, including CUNY, NYC Board of Ed, and Dept. of Health and Mental Hygiene. She was part of organizing campaign at CUNY’s College of Staten Island, among part-time instructional staff. Ruth is married, with two adult kids with advanced degrees whom I hope never have to work for less than a fair going rate. She likes to swim, exercise, cook, laugh a lot. Her mom is still living, and still claims Ruth was a born troublemaker. Life is now calmer in the Catskills.

by Joe Berry
joeberry@igc.org

COCAL is the Coalition of Contingent Academic Labor, a nearly 20-year-old network of contingent activists and their organizations that does a conference (now tri national – USA, CAN, MEX) every other year, usually in August. It also sponsors a listserv, called ADJ-L, and has an International Advisory Committee and a website and Facebook page.

Campus Equity Week
October 26-30, 2015

CAMPUS EQUITY WEEK, 2015

CAMPUS EQUITY WEEK 2015 – Hi Everyone, I just finished listening to the planning meeting on the upcoming Campus Equity Week 2015 (Oct. 26-30). I will see whether I might be able to give you a recording of this meeting soon. You can access information both on facebook and here.

# Killing Us Softly, Part 3: Taking Care of Ourselves

I had a hard time writing this part, because nobody wants platitudes here. We’re working in a system that is making many of us physically and emotionally and mentally ill from stress and poverty and it’s beyond most of our individual means to fix that, or even do something simple like join a gym or still afford decent health care. We’re being chewed up and spit out and replaced by younger, hardier, cheaper adjuncts who will be ground down just like we are. The absurdities of our condition are endless. My union just won the right for our adjuncts to use the college gym for free by proffering the argument that they’re not giving us healthcare and we need to stay healthy somehow.

So BS about eating healthy (On our income?), getting regular exercise (Bench press your textbooks! Kettlebell exercises with your work satchel in the parking lot! Bike to work for exercise and economy!), and seeing our doctors for checkups (Riiiiiiiiight. Like I can even afford subsidized Obamacare), are not what we need. I won’t insult your intelligence with them.

But I’m reminded of my favorite quotation from hardboiled detective Phillip Marlowe when I consider how chewed up we all are:

I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and left the room.

I’ve written elsewhere that American individualism can be a crippling cause of shame, but Americans have a useful collection of heroes too. Horatio Alger is no longer a viable one, but we have a special love of underdogs. And you don’t get much farther under the dog than adjuncts are right now (trickle down what?). Chandler’s Marlowe is one of my favorite characters, mostly because his humor is dark, caustic, yet realistic, and he has a personal moral code from which he does not waver. He reminds me a lot of many of the adjuncts I know.

We stick with this crap job because we feel an obligation to our students. We love what we do (more on this in another post). We feel it is noble work and that we’re contributing to society doing it, even when people disparage us for doing it. Like Marlowe, many of us are individual crusaders. I think this might be especially true of those of us who teach at schools with high first-generation college student numbers, but I might be a little biased in that. Often it’s the time we spend in the classroom with students that renews us. But it’s not enough to keep us sane and healthy.

So what to do?

1. Use your voice. I’ve got a coat, a hat and a metaphorical gun too. I’m using that gun right now. I use it every day in the classroom, every time I tell my students what it’s like to be an adjunct and how that fits into the big picture of our politics and history. I use it on my own blog, here on NFM’s blog, on social media, in my union meetings. I use it in adjunct orientation. I use it in the hallways in passing with my colleagues. Sometimes it’s just a vent (the shotgun blast). Sometimes it’s something more organized, like this (the sniper shot). As an academic, you’ve got that gun too, and you’re already loaded for bear. Our voices are like Woody Guthrie’s guitar, which bore the legend “This machine kills fascists.” Join your voice to the chorus of the outraged. The upshot (forgive the pun) of that leads to suggestion number 2:
2. Find a community. Sometimes you have to create that community yourself, and it’s hard when you’re commuting to two or three other schools to the tune of 5 hours a day. This is where the online world becomes a godsend. Not only are the Interwebz a great place to organize for action, they’re a great place to find the like-minded who will listen to and support you when the excrement hits the cooling device’s rotating blades. Don’t know where to start? Look to the right. In the column of this blog is a wealth of resources to be found online. Join COCAL and the Adjunct-l listserv. Become part of the New Faculty Majority. Or Faculty Forward. Or all three. Join Facebook. Start a page of your own. Invite fellow adjuncts. Before you know it, you’ve got a proto-union of maladjusted malcontents of the sort Martin Luther King, Jr., talked about who would save the world. That community will have your back when you need it. It can publicly shame department heads into returning your classes and administrators into rehiring you. It can help you daylight truly egregious abuses and never let admin or the public forget it. It can help make you powerful, too. I would be lost without my Seekrit Band of Rebel Adjuncts.

Remember Kean University’s \$230K multimedia conference table? (Admin use only; no faculty allowed.) We’ll never let them forget it.

3. Use that community to procure resources and advice. With nearly 1.4 million of us—Acs, Alt-Acs, and Post-Acs—banging around, somebody’s got some good advice and suggestions or connections. We’re smart people. Got a problem/situation? Crowdsource it. We may not have a lot of money, but we’ve got a lot of smarts. Just ask Lee Skallerup Besset and Karen Kelsky. I’ve seen adjuncts look for career, childrearing, moving, teaching, and even canning advice from their communities. And find it. We find copies of research papers for each other, PDFs of articles squirreled away behind paywalls, reliable exterminators, editorial advice, legal resources. We’re an endless font of wisdom. Use us.
4. Feed your soul. Look for the little things that delight. The kind words of colleagues. Delightful vids like this one:
Some biting satire. Crazy memes.
5. Educate, Agitate, Organize. Take some action. Start a blog. Take back some agency in your life and career. Be just a little subversive. It doesn’t have to be something enormous. It can be something as small as refusing to write a recommendation letter for free. There is nothing so uplifting as standing up for yourself, and others. Sometimes this means setting a deadline for yourself: I will ditch this path if I don’t have something better by 20XX or whenever. One of my colleagues said that was surprisingly freeing in more ways than one.
6. Rescue Yourself. Stop being a victim. Stop keeping your head down. Stop being ashamed. Stop thinking, “if only I work harder, I’ll get tenure.” You probably won’t. The system is broken. Come together with us and help us kick it in and start over. Pick up your coat, hat, and gun and leave the room.

–Lee Kottner