Damn, part two

My ex-colleague Ageing Yuppie has a new job (well, since October 2005 already): he's a professor of design in a college Oop Noorth. He was in town last weekend, we met for a cappuchino under the chestnut trees of the Grand Café Planie, and he told me this tale:

On the day when Germany was playing Sweden, I was booked to give a lecture to my students on (something or other), and I really had no desire to do this at all. It was hot and muggy, everyone was feeling lethargic on the one hand and excited about football on the other. So when one of the girls asked whether we couldn't just skip the lecture and watch the game I hesitated for about an eighteenth of a second before saying "yes." They had it all organized within minutes: they had found a beamer and set it up in the lecture hall, one of them brought in two crates of cold beer, another organized platters of sandwiches. I didn't have to do a thing.

So we sat there - and you know what girls wear in the summer when it's really hot: hardly anything. So we're sitting there in the air-conditioned lecture hall, I'm surrounded by naked flesh, drinking cold beer and eating sandwiches and watching the world cup on the big screen. And a thought struck me, and I nearly choked on my beer. As soon as I could stop laughing and wiped the tears away, I said to them:

"You realize, of course, that I'm getting paid for this."