Status: ***ed up Rammstein feelage, ahoy.
Die Jagd
Three
Danni
Due to Carol and I approaching our college graduations, we were required to take a senior seminar class. There were seminar classes offered in our more specific fields, but since they all ran along the same guidelines, Carol and I opted out to take a generic seminar class together.
Of course, if we had known the class’ professor was an absolute pompous dick, we may have chosen to just take separate classes to save our patience and dignity.
Doctor Christian Lorenz—also simply known as “Flake” (pronounced flah-kay) by his students behind his back—was the biggest asshole I had ever met. And being a journalist, I dealt with a lot of trash, even before getting a legitimate job. Flake despised the United States (I mean, yes, we could be a douchey country) and he liked to take his distaste out on any Americans in his class. Unfortunately, for Carol and I, we were the only two in the section.
He enjoyed calling us out on controversial issues and sometimes they had nothing to do with the class—he just wanted to hear us disagree with him and then call us idiots without ever saying the word.
He was really in a mood today. While his tall, skinny form paced back and forth, he was discussing basic job security to us and got on a tangent about United States taking their companies overseas for cheaper labor and how immigrants came in to work in the low-paying jobs because Americans had little work ethic.
I was seething in my seat, feeling my cheeks growing hot, as he continued on his rant. He could have just started throwing rocks at us; that would have been easier to take. The combination of his passive aggressive language and making an effort to look at everyone else, but Carol and I was grinding on my nerves.
“Can he just give us a big ole ‘fuck you’ to us and let us leave?” Carol asked under her breath. We were perched in our usual spot towards the back of the class, in the left corner, by ourselves.
“Can we just tell him to go fuck himself and leave?” I responded. I was slouched in my seat with my arms crossed.
“Please, do.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“He’s tempting us, for all I care,” she said.
“Savege! Jakobsen!” Carol and I snapped to attention. “Did you have something you wanted to contribute to the class discussion?”
Carol and I sat in silence, not bothering to wipe the looks of pure loathing from our faces.
I was the one who couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Actually, Doctor Lorenz, I didn’t know this was a ‘discussion’. I thought you just talked our ears off until you got your fill of satisf—”
Carol punched my knee under the table and I snapped my mouth shut to hide the groan. “No, we’re fine, Professor,” she said.
Flake’s eyes were narrowed at me from behind his thick-framed glasses and I narrowed mine right back. The way his dark hair was slicked back perfectly made him look oilier. Carol was giving me a look that said “cut it out with the ‘tude,” but I really wasn’t in a pleasant mood and felt that my filter for decent socialization had been switched off. My mom would have kicked my ass from Memphis and back if she saw the way I acted.
Flake finally broke our glaring contest and muttered a “sehr gut” before going back to bagging on our homeland. Carol wrote a note down on her notebook and slid it over to me. I read it from the corner of my eye.
WTF is wrong with you? Flake was gonna skin you alive!
I wrote back: So? I’m so sick of him!
Only four more months!
Don’t remind me…
Finally, after an agonizing twenty minutes, Flake released us from class. I was quickly putting my things away, hoping to go enjoy a latte and scone at Carol and I’s usual haunt, but alas…Flake would not have it so.
“Frau Jakobsen, I’d like to speak with you, please.”
I looked at Carol and her eyes widened, but she gave me the look that signaled she had my back. Bless that little red head’s heart. I tromped down to the front of the classroom with my backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Yes, Doctor Lorenz?” My words dripped with sickly sweetness.
He didn’t look any more enthused about our after-class meeting. “I spoke with one of your professors for news writing. He tells me you have an assignment that requires talking to a witness of a historical event.” I nodded, unsure where he was going with this. “I have an interesting source that would be happy to be interviewed. He was witness to the fall of the Berlin Wall.”
He didn’t ask if I already had a story planned out or had any sources. There was no question at all. He was offering his sources to a basic American girl; I should be honored. No, I didn’t have a story started. The pitch I originally through to my news writing professor fell through and I was struggling to find something else.
“Yes,” I finally answered. “I’d greatly appreciate that, actually.”
“Super!” Flake’s sudden rise in voice made Carol and I both jump. He took out a piece of notebook paper and scribbled down what I assumed was contact information. “I’ll inform Herr Linderman later today that you will be contacting him. He’ll greatly appreciate it.”
I was put off by Flake’s sudden enthusiasm, after he had just been hating on us in class. His smile was unsettling—perhaps, he just had an unsettling face—and when he revved up his energy, his movements were highly animated, almost glitchy-robotesque.
I took the paper from him, uttered a flat “danke”, and Carol and I left the classroom. We looked at each other, sharing the same thoughts.
“Well, that was weird,” Carol finally said.
I was looking down at the phone number and address. I was unfamiliar with Hamburg and had no idea where the residence was located. Google Maps would fix that, but I was still unsettled by Flake. I shouldn’t have been. However, a professor that doesn’t hide his repulsion towards you suddenly wanting to assist you in something made me wonder if Flake really was as bipolar and off-kilter as Carol and I talked about.
I shoved the paper in my backpack and decided to worry about it later. The café was calling our name, as was extra caffeine to get through rugby practice later that evening.
Due to Carol and I approaching our college graduations, we were required to take a senior seminar class. There were seminar classes offered in our more specific fields, but since they all ran along the same guidelines, Carol and I opted out to take a generic seminar class together.
Of course, if we had known the class’ professor was an absolute pompous dick, we may have chosen to just take separate classes to save our patience and dignity.
Doctor Christian Lorenz—also simply known as “Flake” (pronounced flah-kay) by his students behind his back—was the biggest asshole I had ever met. And being a journalist, I dealt with a lot of trash, even before getting a legitimate job. Flake despised the United States (I mean, yes, we could be a douchey country) and he liked to take his distaste out on any Americans in his class. Unfortunately, for Carol and I, we were the only two in the section.
He enjoyed calling us out on controversial issues and sometimes they had nothing to do with the class—he just wanted to hear us disagree with him and then call us idiots without ever saying the word.
He was really in a mood today. While his tall, skinny form paced back and forth, he was discussing basic job security to us and got on a tangent about United States taking their companies overseas for cheaper labor and how immigrants came in to work in the low-paying jobs because Americans had little work ethic.
I was seething in my seat, feeling my cheeks growing hot, as he continued on his rant. He could have just started throwing rocks at us; that would have been easier to take. The combination of his passive aggressive language and making an effort to look at everyone else, but Carol and I was grinding on my nerves.
“Can he just give us a big ole ‘fuck you’ to us and let us leave?” Carol asked under her breath. We were perched in our usual spot towards the back of the class, in the left corner, by ourselves.
“Can we just tell him to go fuck himself and leave?” I responded. I was slouched in my seat with my arms crossed.
“Please, do.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“He’s tempting us, for all I care,” she said.
“Savege! Jakobsen!” Carol and I snapped to attention. “Did you have something you wanted to contribute to the class discussion?”
Carol and I sat in silence, not bothering to wipe the looks of pure loathing from our faces.
I was the one who couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Actually, Doctor Lorenz, I didn’t know this was a ‘discussion’. I thought you just talked our ears off until you got your fill of satisf—”
Carol punched my knee under the table and I snapped my mouth shut to hide the groan. “No, we’re fine, Professor,” she said.
Flake’s eyes were narrowed at me from behind his thick-framed glasses and I narrowed mine right back. The way his dark hair was slicked back perfectly made him look oilier. Carol was giving me a look that said “cut it out with the ‘tude,” but I really wasn’t in a pleasant mood and felt that my filter for decent socialization had been switched off. My mom would have kicked my ass from Memphis and back if she saw the way I acted.
Flake finally broke our glaring contest and muttered a “sehr gut” before going back to bagging on our homeland. Carol wrote a note down on her notebook and slid it over to me. I read it from the corner of my eye.
WTF is wrong with you? Flake was gonna skin you alive!
I wrote back: So? I’m so sick of him!
Only four more months!
Don’t remind me…
Finally, after an agonizing twenty minutes, Flake released us from class. I was quickly putting my things away, hoping to go enjoy a latte and scone at Carol and I’s usual haunt, but alas…Flake would not have it so.
“Frau Jakobsen, I’d like to speak with you, please.”
I looked at Carol and her eyes widened, but she gave me the look that signaled she had my back. Bless that little red head’s heart. I tromped down to the front of the classroom with my backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Yes, Doctor Lorenz?” My words dripped with sickly sweetness.
He didn’t look any more enthused about our after-class meeting. “I spoke with one of your professors for news writing. He tells me you have an assignment that requires talking to a witness of a historical event.” I nodded, unsure where he was going with this. “I have an interesting source that would be happy to be interviewed. He was witness to the fall of the Berlin Wall.”
He didn’t ask if I already had a story planned out or had any sources. There was no question at all. He was offering his sources to a basic American girl; I should be honored. No, I didn’t have a story started. The pitch I originally through to my news writing professor fell through and I was struggling to find something else.
“Yes,” I finally answered. “I’d greatly appreciate that, actually.”
“Super!” Flake’s sudden rise in voice made Carol and I both jump. He took out a piece of notebook paper and scribbled down what I assumed was contact information. “I’ll inform Herr Linderman later today that you will be contacting him. He’ll greatly appreciate it.”
I was put off by Flake’s sudden enthusiasm, after he had just been hating on us in class. His smile was unsettling—perhaps, he just had an unsettling face—and when he revved up his energy, his movements were highly animated, almost glitchy-robotesque.
I took the paper from him, uttered a flat “danke”, and Carol and I left the classroom. We looked at each other, sharing the same thoughts.
“Well, that was weird,” Carol finally said.
I was looking down at the phone number and address. I was unfamiliar with Hamburg and had no idea where the residence was located. Google Maps would fix that, but I was still unsettled by Flake. I shouldn’t have been. However, a professor that doesn’t hide his repulsion towards you suddenly wanting to assist you in something made me wonder if Flake really was as bipolar and off-kilter as Carol and I talked about.
I shoved the paper in my backpack and decided to worry about it later. The café was calling our name, as was extra caffeine to get through rugby practice later that evening.