From M. NonHeureux

At the Looneyversity, trust is a four letter word. So it should surprise no one to learn that UWS employs two auditors who travel to each of our campuses for the sole purpose of reviewing the workload spreadsheets of EVERY academic staff member of EVERY school. UWS’s answer to Bouvard and Pécuchet refuse to perform these duties from a central office; instead, they knock on the office doors of the various deans and demand to see evidence supporting those research allocations that they are certain academics don’t really deserve. At the behest of a certain DVC who was overheard last year asserting the futility of research, B&P insist that they be supplied with hard copies of every workload document, as well as a quiet work space in easy reach of the deans should further explanation and justification be required.

“These research allocations aren’t justified!” they regularly cry in unison, “We spend more money on research than we bring in!”

“We are a non-profit university, not Hungry Jacques’s,” say the deans in response. Such is the repeated scene on each campus where these well-paid efficiency clerks make their appearance.

“What’s this?! 5% (of a 35 hour week) to plan a conference!” Bouvard is heard to say.

“5% is too much,” agrees Pécuchet.

“Certainly you could plan a conference with less!


“No, scoffs Bouvard. 1.5%. And if that’s not enough he can do it on his own time!”

“Remind me again, what’s an EFTSL?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s a symbol of sorts. It’s an excellent habit to look at things as so many symbols.”

“Does the workload policy come with a dictionary?’

“It really should. Let’s ask the Dean.”

“If it doesn’t, we will have to write one ourselves.”

“How much workload would that be worth?”


“That might not be enough, Pécuchet,.”

“You’re right Bouvard, Let’s make it 50%.”

“What is the point of it all?”

“Perhaps there isn’t a point.”
The B&P effect, we are told, is catching. So much that academics themselves have taken to disputing their colleagues’ research allocations in an effort to win the coveted UWS Toady of the Year Award. To their credit, however, B&P are not altogether parasitical. They may exhaust office space, the deans’ time, and cost the university an arm and a leg, but they do always bring their own two-seater desk, the design of which affords each an unobstructed view of the other’s workspace. And how could it be otherwise? For who will surveil the surveillants?