This is a redacted letter that I wrote and planted in various places across the campus of Romulus University. It will serve as a time capsule in the event that someone actually finds one of these letters. I am not not mad about leaving, just disappointed that we could not make things work here.

To the individual who finds this letter,

First of all, congratulations on finding this letter. Heaven only knows how long this had been sitting at the location where you found it. In fact, this is just one of several copies of this letter floating around campus. I will have no idea whether anybody discovered the other copies, but for you, this is like winning the lottery. Too bad it’s like ten cents in the lottery, because it doesn’t mean much.

For clarity, I am writing this correspondence in May 2026. I am digitally penning this in a small corner of Smithers Hall, where I spent the last five years of my life teaching general education classes. The university brought me to this campus to start a journalism program. However, after two years of service, the program shut down due to campus-wide low enrollment, affecting everyone. I was one of over a dozen programs that dissolved overnight.

Even though the university set me up to fail, I stayed because I was on a tenure-track trajectory. My new charge was to teach Professional Communication as part of our brand-new “adulting” curriculum. The original term was redacted after another university slapped the school with a cease-and-desist order for infringement, i.e. plagiarism. There is too much irony in that last sentence. This move was simply a renaming of Public Speaking to sound more sophisticated. 

During my time here, the percentage of student-athletes hovered above seventy percent of the student body. This imbalance was due in part to admissions leadership failing to do their job, resulting in the smallest incoming class in over 30 years. Word to the wise, don’t hire a person to run admissions who has all the charisma of wallpaper.  If you factor in the volatility of the transfer portal, anybody could see that student retention was circling the drain. We just wrapped up our graduation ceremony, and we awarded over 80 undergraduate degrees. We used to produce more graduates, but everybody tries to escape at the first opportunity. I could go on about all the shortcomings of this place, but I feel it is important to keep things concise so nobody falls asleep while reading this rambling letter.

Firstly, I am no longer employed at this institution as I am writing this letter. I am still sitting in my office writing this, though, because I am too stupid to leave, and I know my squatter’s rights. The administration claims that my tenure packet did not follow proper protocol, even though I submitted and followed all of the procedures as specified. I even have the receipts to support my claims. My termination is more of a financial decision than anything else, since I was a “Smith Hire.” That means my contract was especially generous to secure talented professors. I was probably one of the highest-paid faculty members on campus. I figured as much when the school rehired the speech faculty member I had replaced during contraction. He still has no clue that he is teaching my courses in the fall. I know his contract is almost tens of thousands cheaper than mine because I had access to school budgets when I was planning the program, and I imagine they rehired him at a similar rate. My former department chair hates that I say that my firing is allowing everybody to have a retirement plan again because of what the school is saving with my release.

Secondly, the current president, Fearless Leader, is one tough customer. When the school hired them, it was in financial dire straits. They made tough financial decisions and is trying to get this place back into shape. However, they have serious flaws that could easily harm the institution. They tend to get involved in everything and is not afraid to micromanage if necessary. This hypermonitoring is due to Fearless Leader’s demand that everything meet their specifications. Case in point: right after the graduation procession, they pulled the entire academic platform into a closed room for what was supposedly a tongue-lashing for some mistake I don’t think anybody else noticed. Their reputation as a petulant child behind closed doors has earned them the nickname, the Barron of Birds, as anybody could easily lose their eyes if things do not go as planned.

This level of demand requires the school to paint the roses red constantly. The Barron of Birds mandates that aesthetics are a priority above all else. This idea is present throughout their policies. Most of the improvements around campus focus on exterior aesthetics rather than infrastructure. Who needs classrooms with properly functioning HVAC when the school has to look just right for the recruitment tour? I understand that the goal is to have more butts in seats, but there has to be a balance between getting the student to commit to the school and keeping them around long enough to graduate. Retention is easier if their butts don’t catch frostbite from sitting in an icy cold classroom. Instead, all areas must look pristine, and their cameos at events must have a particular flair, or it is an abysmal failure. To quote The Godfather, they are a wartime consigliere and is really good in that role.

However, this type of leadership is tiring. When the Board of Trustees decided to keep them around a little longer, all but one member of the academic cabinet fled the scene. That lone survivor only stuck around because they pined away for their current position for almost two decades, and now that they have it, they have to live with that decision. I could write an entire novel about the chap, but I am not suffering from that level of self-loathing at the moment. Besides, I see them taking their penance rather well. They are another reminder of why you never wish on a monkey’s paw.

So, that is my story. I hope somebody discovers this letter well into the 22nd century, after artificial intelligence (the bane of most of my fellow faculty right now) has wiped out humanity. I still believe Skynet is real. Well, whatever creature capable of reading this nonsense can use it to reflect upon the fact that most leadership is inept and that humanity will continue to repeat mistakes because it never learns. If Romulus is still standing when you are reading this, that is incredible. I figure that the hubris around here will bury this place in the not-too-distant future.

Keep fighting the good fight,

Brian Latimer

Associate Professor of Nonsense

Romulus University

2021-2026