From the author: It's Never Too Late To Screw Up Again
My old advisor, Dr. Jeanne, hadn't moved offices in the years since our last acquaintance. I saw her nameplate and the same yellowed New Yorker cartoon about fossilized tenure boards right where I expected them under the frosted glass with 302 painted on it in gold.
The geology department was in one of the oldest buildings on campus, and the ceilings were high and the doors had transoms and thousands of tiny scratches from the passage of generations of students.
It felt like walking into a...