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As an adjunct, I love listening to my full-time counterparts complain about not making enough money.

While I am uncertain about my reproductive aspirations, a colleague recently confided that they wanted to teach over the summer because they could not currently afford a second child. (Their spouse has a fairly high-paying job, as well.)


It took all the restraint I had in the world not to snap back, "We can't afford a first, because my yearly salary is what you woul d make teaching a summer course." I did attempt to joke, "I'd just love to have a salary at all!" but was met with a blank stare, a quick breath, and a return to complaining about the size of their salary.

This comes on the heels of my supervisor complaining about how all of their vacation days were used up attending a conference they really love, although it has very little overlap with their actual job function.
Again, restraint prevents, "What is this ... vay-cay-shun day?"

I have returned from a conference of my own - which university travel funds do not cover, because I do not work here really (and travel to which cost literally my monthly income) - to find that I have been moved out of the space I shared with the dreaded officemate. I am now in the basement. With three grad students. Three. Our door does not lock and our schedule overlaps. There is one desk.


If I had thought things were getting better, I was mistaken and I apologize.

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