Another knock interrupts you. Your office is turning into an informal meeting room, and it's keeping you from getting work done.
You say, "Could you come back later—"
"I'm glad I caught you, Dr. .." It's Dr. Ellison. "I need you downstairs."
"I was about to set up my lab, actually."
"A worthy use of your time, but I must drag you from that work and your office. I have a task for you. We must get started on it this afternoon.
"This could have come at a better time."
"Your annoyance is understandable," Dr. Ellison says as the two of you exit your office, "but it can't be helped. We're to plan a symposium for the spring. Repro is sponsoring it. I need your help to organize it."
It's flattering that she'd trust you with it, even though it may distract you from your research. And teaching. And the paper you're supposed to be reviewing. Not to mention your advising Gabriel.
"You see, I'm in rather a jam. Dr. Wilcox was going to help organize it, but he suffered unexpected backlash while working on a speed reading and comprehension pattern. Quite thoroughly jumbled his ability to comprehend the written word for now."
That Would Make Planning a Symposium Hard