The headmaster extended her hand as she smiled and said, “it was good of you to come today, thanks again.” The Steve Jobs wannabe took her hand and shook it a little too vigorously. He just had to ask, “I hope I wasn’t too tiring, I get a little excited when talking about work. Was it alright?” “Inspiring!” she said, as a dead horse, she thought. “There will always be a few that need more encouragement, which is why we need more alumni role models like yourself to come back and show the pupils that we, at the school of Sant’Omobono, are serious about supporting them.” Her eyes twinkled as the enameled tips of her canines, and she retracted her hand slowly.
“Are you in touch with any of your classmates? Some of them need a little extra prodding to come see their old alma mater.” They both chuckled, and he remembered that one of his classmates went to prison for fraud. “I’ll see if I can drop by one or two, probably by parachute.” They both laughed again, and he remembered that another had committed suicide. The headmaster didn’t remember, but she hadn’t forgotten and kept a note of each student who had and hadn’t come to give a speech. There was a quota, and a number to present in the yearly board meeting and to print in the parents newsletter. This shit was important, while this man, in the grand scheme of things, was merely a child coming to show off the castle he had just built in the sand. When he could afford a real castle, then things could get interesting, with photos, convention appearances, donations and fundraisers, that was the dream, that was the goal.
She reached out to shake his hand again. “Well,” she gleamed, “I have matters to attend to, you know how it is. You remember how to leave, but not by the fire exit, right?” They laughed together, one last time. As he turned away he flexed his jaw. The waterfall had finally dried up. It was certainly time, to get back in line.