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"I see. Grants that I solicited? Listen, Daniel, I think that you have it all wrong."

Five minutes later, smarter and furious, I put down the phone. The greedy bastards.

Since I've already started, I decide to go all the way. I call smaller partnerships. Then small ones.

It's ridiculous. I'm supposed to get my own clients. I'm supposed to do everything alone, and on top of that to pay fifteen hundred dollars a month for office and accounting services. Forget consulting, I tell myself, I'm not cut out for it anyway.

I can't sell myself. I don't like to, and I don't know how. Besides, teaching is my life.

So what is the alternative? A high school teacher. And what am I going to teach in high school?

Forget alternatives, I say to myself. I'm not giving up on teaching students. Think. There must be something that can be done. They can't throw me out like this. I've delivered on my end of the bargain, there must be a way to force them to honor their end.

I stand up and go to Jim.

One glance is enough for him. "So you heard the news. Sorry Rick. I was trying to get ahold of you. Left you messages everywhere."

"I know," I say, and drop into a chair. "I thought that you were looking for me for the draft of the next article." He doesn't say a word. Just looks at me sympathetically. "Jim, I'm not going to lie down and let them do this to me." "You never will, but what can you do?"

"I don't know. That's what I came to ask. I'm determined to fight. What are my options?"

"Options?" he repeats. "There aren't many. I wonder if there are any."

"There must be. You know the system, you must know a way."

He thinks for a while, then starts to talk, "You don't have a problem with the business school, here we are all for you. You passed all the committees, and I didn't hear even one bad comment."

"So, what is the problem?"

"It's B.J. That's what makes it so tough. You see, B.J. decided to put a freeze on all new financial commitments of the business school. Of course the first one is granting tenure. I didn't know about it, but the dean has been fighting with her for months. It got to the point where B.J. threatened that if the business school submits any candidates for tenure, she will not only reject them, but she will demand a big budget cut."

"So you are telling me that I'm being sacrificed for some political fight? That all I worked for is going down the tube because of some . . . some power struggle."

He nods. "So it seems."

"Somehow I have to reach B.J.," I say. "She is the key." "That's easy," he surprises me. "According to the university rules, you can demand a meeting, and she must see you. But how can it help? Everybody knows what a cold-blooded efficiency machine she is. The only thing she cares about is the university."

"I'm counting on it. Thank you, Jim," I say, and leave him a little puzzled.

I know that I contribute, so there must be a way to show it to her. I just have to find that way.

Now, only three days later, I'm in B.J.'s office. She has given me a whole speech about the trends in the MBA market. As if I care. I realize what a stone wall I really face when she brutally says, "Sorry, but when you make an omelet, eggs must be broken."

So now I'm an egg. And a broken egg, no less.

Finally, I realize that there is no chance of bringing her around to see it from my side. I have to talk her language.

"What happens if I can bring more students into the executive MBA program?"

This stops her short. She thinks about it, and then, not particularly interested, asks, "How do you plan to do it?"

I don't have a plan yet, but I also don't have anything to lose.

"I'm teaching the project management course. Projects are where the big money is."

She doesn't respond. I take it as a sign to continue.

"It might come as a surprise to you, but the state of knowledge in this field is appalling. Almost no project finishes on time, or budget. And if they