Tag Archives: courses

Intro to Macroeconomics

I took this class in college, Intro to Macroeconomics, it was some required course that I had no interest in really paying attention to, let alone studying, but I had heard that the course material was pretty easy, and it was one of those giant lecture classes, like a hundred and fifty kids staring down at a professor in a big hall with stadium seating. So I thought, OK, I’ll tough it out, I’ll get my credits and say goodbye forever to the world of economics.


But day one, the professor barely says hello before he goes off on this crazy rant, “All right you little punks, I read on the Internet that you all think I’m an easy A, right? Isn’t that why all of you signed up for this class? Huh? You think I’m easy? Well bad news kids, this is going to be one of the hardest classes you’ve ever taken in your lives.”

I’m paraphrasing, obviously, but he did get his point across, because on the second class, only twelve of us had decided not to drop the course. I don’t know what exactly he was going for in striking such an intimidating tone from the get-go, like was he expecting a small class of only the most dedicated students of macroeconomics? Because, while I can’t speak for anyone else in the class, I chose to remain based solely on convenience. This hour and fifteen Tuesday and Thursday fit so nicely in my schedule. That semester, I never had to wake up any earlier than eleven, I had plenty of space sprinkled throughout my day for lunch or snacks. This course was like the ribbon on an artfully wrapped present.

A gift to myself, half a year of pure convenience. That’s what I was going for anyway. It turned out that this once joke of a professor took his ratemyprofessor.com score a little too seriously. It was like he had a giant chip on his shoulder, something to prove. To who? To us, apparently, the remaining dozen who either wouldn’t or couldn’t find a way to rearrange their entire schedule.

“First order of business,” his words echoed out, he was practically screaming to us, all spaced out in that giant classroom. “If you miss more than one class, your grade is going down a whole letter.” Yikes. Listen, I was all for making a really good effort at attending every class, but come on, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? “If you don’t hand in an assignment, that’s another letter grade.”

I double-checked the class schedule, to see if it wasn’t too late to switch, but the add-drop period was over. I swallowed hard as I came to terms with what my semester might be looking like. One sick day, jeez, should I just use it right away? Or maybe save it for sometime when I’d really need it?

“Oh and one more thing,” he got ready to spread the icing all over the cake, “You’re only allowed to use a marble notebook. I don’t want to see any spiral bound books in my class. Got it?”

Marble notebooks, I thought, what is this, third grade? I already bought all of my school supplies earlier. This guy wanted me to go back and buy some stupid old-fashioned notebook? What did he care what kind of notebook I used? Was he going to be writing notes in it? It was such an arbitrary decree, like he might as well have banned blue pens.

I felt bad for him, he was obviously lashing out at us because he had no idea where else to direct his impotent rage. And even after he calmed down, he never looked happy. From there on out, it was just him standing at the head of the class, droning on about supply and demand, showing us really boring PowerPoint presentations, never so much as cracking a smile or letting on that he enjoyed at all being in the classroom with us.

As for my end of the bargain, I think I missed two classes. And I put basically zero effort into the course as a whole. This guy was so boring. And I hated that marble notebook. It served a purpose for about two weeks or so, when I spent an entire four classes coloring in the white parts of the marble design with black pen. But after that, I was left with nothing else to do. Those stupid rounded corners on the pages. You’d open it up and it wouldn’t stay open, that thing wanted nothing more than to be permanently closed, just like my mind during that class, my attention span unable to string more than five consecutive seconds together of listening to that guy talk.

My final grade was a C-, by far the worst of my college career. But whatever, I turned out OK right? I mean, yeah, I guess I ruined my shot at being elected chairman of the Fed. But yeah, I guess that’s what I get for basing the entirety of my college career on optimally timed lunch breaks.

Dinner party

I’m a good cook. Just, please, try to stay out of my way. I don’t need any help. So no, please don’t bring any side dishes. I have the side dishes already planned out. It’s the same with dessert. If you bring dessert, well, don’t bring dessert, because I’m telling you right now, no dessert, so go ahead and try me, bring that box from the bakery, I’ll be like, “Gee, sorry, looks like there’s no room in the fridge,” and then I’ll really push back the dessert course, make sure your lemon meringue pie or whatever it is inside that box gets nice and warm, really mushy, and I have just the serving dish I can put it on, it’s gross looking, like I think someone put it in the oven one time, and so it’s got all of these weird burnt-on grease looking stains, and you could tell it was just starting to melt, minutes away from losing any semblance of structural integrity.

dinner party

I don’t need you to bring any drinks, I’ll handle the drinks. What, were planning on buying a few two-liter bottles of soda? Don’t even think about it. If you’re currently thinking about it, just stop right there, because I’ve got it covered. That includes cups, and yes, that includes ice.

And napkins. I’m taking care of napkins. Please don’t bring your coats. If you get cold inside, I’ll have plenty of extra sweaters and blankets available. Just leave it to me, all right? It’s just that, for my dinner parties, I like to maintain a certain continuity of theme, I’m trying to strike not just the perfect dinner, but everything, the ambiance, the lighting – please don’t touch the lights – it’s got to be just right.

Listen, I’d prefer it if everyone ate with forks in their left hands, OK? I know it shouldn’t seem like a big deal, but I’m going to be getting up to take a photo soon … no, nobody look over here, it’s got to be candid, and remember what I was talking about before? The uniformity? Yeah, just not like that. Like, try to cut the steak against the grill mark, just so everybody will be able to see the char.

You know what? I’ll cut the food. Just, everybody pass your plates over here. I insist. Hey, you two at the end, if you’re going to have a side conversation, could it maybe be something a little topical? I’m sure it’s very important to figure out who’s splitting a cab home with who, but maybe that’s something that you could have discussed before you stepped inside. Just think of it like a house rule, like maybe talk about the news, or sports. You know what? The news. Talk about the mayor.

Hey, over here, yeah you, nobody goes to the bathroom until after the first course. Look, this isn’t a restaurant, OK? The dining room is simply way too close to the bathroom, so it’s all got to be fit in somewhere, and that’ll be in between courses four and five. Yep, get comfortable folks. And besides, I’m not ready to go in there with you. There’s a certain way to do it in there, it may look like any other first-floor bathroom, but … well, I really can’t explain it, it’s just something I’ve got to show you how to do.

Seriously? You guys are leaving already? Well, let me wrap up some of this food for you, trust me, you’re going to love it, I’ve been working on this all day. Just, when you get home, make sure you adjust the presets on the microwave, like normally they’re set to nine or ten and nobody ever thinks about it once it’s set up. All you have to do is set it to six, run it for twenty-four seconds, then you set it to ten, and you pulse it, one second, wait, three seconds, wait, then you take it out, you mix it up a little, back to level six, thirty seconds, rest, wait, repeat.

You know what? I’m going to come with you, I just need to show you, this won’t take long everybody, just, feel free to hang out in the living room, you guys can talk about anything, well, feel free to open up the conversation somewhat, like I guess sports is OK. No come on, I insist, give me the keys, no I’ll drive, I know a shortcut, I’ll have you guys set up at your dinner table in no time.