Managerialo

A girl took a stroll t’wards professorhood. A letch saw the girl, and the girl looked good.

“Where are you going to, doctoral girl? Come to my office, give it a whirl.“

“It’s terribly kind of you, Letch, but no – we’re being watched by Managerialo.”

“Managerialo? Who’s Managerialo?”

“Managerialo! Why didn’t you know? He has terrible metrics, and terrible clothes, and terrible targets – he likes to use those.”

“And he’s watching us now?”

“Oh yes, all the time. If there’s any harassment, you know that’s a crime?“

“A crime you say? I’m off!” Letch said. “Goodbye doctoral girl,” and away he sped.

“Silly old letch, doesn’t he know, there’s no such thing as Managerialo?”

*

On went the girl t‘wards professorhood. A grant-holder saw the girl, and the girl looked good.

“Where are you going to, post-doc girl? Want part-time work? Don’t be a churl.”

“It’s frightfully good of you, Grant-holder, but no – we’re being watched by Managerialo.”

“Managerialo? Who’s Managerialo?”

“Managerialo! Why didn’t you know? He has TEF, REF and KEF, NSS and the rankings, no sense of humour, a predeliction for wankings.”

“And he’s using them now?”

“Oh yes, he can’t stop. Part-timers won’t count so you might get the chop.“

“The chop, you say? I’ll write no more bids! Bye-bye, post-doc girl,” and off Grant-holder slid.

“Silly Grant-holder, doesn’t he know, there’s no such thing as Managerialo?”

*

On went the girl t’wards professorhood. An over-worker saw the girl, and the girl looked good.

“Where are you going to, lecturer girl? Take all of our teaching, do be a pearl.”

“It’s wonderfully good of you, Over-worker, but no – we’re being watched by Managerialo.”

“Managerialo? Who’s Managerialo?”

“Managerialo! Why didn’t you know? He has permanent monitoring, no heart and no soul, and above all else, saving money’s his goal.”

“And he’s monitoring us now?”

“Oh yes, night and day. If I take any sick leave, from your budget you’ll pay!”

“My budget, you say? I can’t risk that! Goodbye lecturer girl!” and backwards he tracked.

“Silly Over-worker, doesn’t he know, there’s no such thing as Managerial…

*

…Oh!”

But who is this creature with terrible clothes, and terrible targets? He likes to use those.

He has TEF, REF and KEF, NSS and the rankings, No sense of humour, a predeliction for wankings.

He has permanent monitoring, no heart and no soul. And above all else, saving money’s his goal.

“Oh help! Oh no! It’s Managerialo!”

“Not a girl, but a number,” Managerialo squeaked. “You’ll go so nicely on my big spreadsheet.”

“Nicely?” said the girl, “I’m more than just data! If you try to do that, you’ll regret it all later.

Just walk behind me and soon you’ll see, there’s nobody out there who wants to count me. “

“Alright,” said Managerialo, without any laughter. “You go ahead and I’ll follow after.”

*

They walked and walked till Managerialo said, “I see someone – a departmental head.”

“It’s Over-worker,” said the girl. “Why Over-worker, hello!”

Over-worker took one look at Managerialo. “Ay caramba!” he said, “I must be off,” and back he tracked with a nervous wee cough.

“You see?” said the girl. “I told you so.”

“Amazing!” said Managerialo.

*

They walked some more till Managerialo said, “I smell some cash in the research group ahead.”

“It’s Grant-holder,” said the girl. “Why Grant-holder, hello!”

Grant-holder took one look at Managerialo. “Sorry,” he gulped, “I can’t hang around!” and off he slid, into the background.

“You see,” said the girl. “I told you so.”

“Astounding!” said Managerialo.

*

They walked some more till Managerialo said, “I can sense wandering hands up ahead.”

“It’s Letch,” said the girl. “Why Letch, hello!”

Letch took one look at Managerialo. “Can’t stay!” he yelped, “I have things I must do!” and he fled, very quickly, with a clumsy “Adieu”.

“Well, Managerialo,” said the girl. “You see? Nobody out there wants to count me.

But the OfS is calling, they want their submissions. If you don’t send them now, there’ll be regulatory fission.”

“Regulatory fission!“ Managerialo said. And quick as the wind he turned and fled.

*

The girl was sitting at professorhood. She looked at her work, and her work was so good.

P.S. A nod to Julia Donaldson – imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.