Early on, we got it. Frank’s special. You commandeered prime real estate in the office, complete with locking file drawer. You carry ten flash drives and strut with a pile of books like you own the world. You’re busy-busy. Too busy for us. That's why we didn't invite you to the off-campus party.
But since you found out I’m about to leave for Ph.D. school, you act like we’re best buds. The nicknames---really? The way you seek me out and talk to me in front of all the other adjuncts is bizarre. And when I clearly have projects in process. All you talk about is yourself---your Ivy League connections, and how it's time you get into a Ph.D. program too. Wouldn’t that be great? What do I think?
I think that frankly, Frank, this fakery is nauseating. Go away. I have research. I have grading. I have to contemplate my navel. I have to do something (anything!) other than share air with you.