I am looking at my classmates in disbelief when my Professor of Global Strategy asks if I can be a sweetie and go and write on the board. "I like your writing and you are so tall and look pretty by my side" is all I can hear as I am asked to step out of my chair and take my place next to the whiteboard.
I guess I have turned into the academic version of a "valletto" - an Italian Game Show institution normally the domain of hypertittied 20 somethings and occasionally the refuge of muscly beefcakes with lots of teeth but no brains.
The road to my MBA is getting more acclivitous by the day.
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