Thursday, March 6, 1997 | 11:59 a.m.
SHOCK, outrage, disbelief.
These were the reactions among hard-working local taxpayers to a recent report that UNLV instructors average fewer than six hours a week in the classroom.
"I spend more time in the bathroom," my editor told me as I nodded in agreement. "Get on that story!"
I immediately called the UNLV campus and asked for Professor Lars A. Tyme, head of the Department of Schedule Management.
"Professor Tyme is out until next week," a receptionist told me. "You should know better than to call after Wednesday morning."
I got a similar response from the Center for Coordination of Faculty Scheduling.
"I can connect you with the voice mail of Professor I.B. Fein," said another hard-working receptionist. "I'll have to put you on hold. No one in the department is here at the moment, and the phone is ringing off the hook."
I asked the receptionist to relay a message to Professor Fein that my deadline was fast approaching.
"In case Professor Fein has trouble with the term 'deadline,' Webster defines it as a 'date or time before which something must be done,'" I joked, but the receptionist wasn't laughing.
Undaunted, I tried Instructor I. Tinerant.
"He's away on sabbatical to the French province of St. Martin," a beleaguered receptionist told me.
Since I was batting zero with my little jokes on definitions of words, I thought I'd try another one.
"Did you know that 'sabbatical' stems from the word 'Sabbath,' which is a reference to a time of rest and renewal? Which begs the question: Rest from what?"
"I see you went to college," the receptionist sniffed. "And because you did, you also must know that 'sabbatical' actually refers to a recurring period of rest and renewal. And so I needn't tell you that after Instructor Tinerant leaves St. Martin, he heads for the beaches of St. Tropez."
The response was the same, no matter which department I called.
Doesn't anyone above the position of receptionist work at this university?
Finally, I tried the Department of Faculty Curriculum and asked for Provost Perry Patetic.
"Provost Patetic is away from his desk," a receptionist said dryly.
"How far away?" I said.
"He's scheduled for a shotgun start at Spanish Trails at 10 a.m. today," the receptionist replied.
I pleaded with her, arguing that my deadline had already passed and I simply had to reach the provost.
Finally, the clever receptionist came up with an idea.
She put me on hold as she called several local medical offices until she found the identity and cellular number of the local physician who was Patetic's golf partner.
It was a brilliant piece of detective work on the part of the receptionist, who later told me she barely made it through high school.
Some things they can't teach you in college.
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