Business(Busted In) Economics.

I was down the hole just passing time.

Mr. Brown, (with your permission Mr. Tarantino), was sitting next to me.
We were laughing at a joke. Mr. Brown is a funny guy. He is also... risque... when it comes to jokes.

We have just had a good laugh. I have just cracked up. When I crack up, I start banging the flat of my palm on the desk. 3- 4 times. My inanimate face gets a bolt of electricity. I am interested and alive.

Mr. Brown laughs. I laugh. Others around us are serious.

We are in the class. Game Theory (or Russian Roulette or Minnie Mouse) has got our seats bang beneath the fan this week. Life is good.

I see the odd snicker directed at our bonhomie. And some xeroxed bundles in those hands. It is a bundle of case studies. It is also among the many things that I have but do not own. We are at best impersonal and business in our dealings. They come to me. I slide the zip of my bag. They go in. I come to my room. They get neatly stacked in the drawer. My inventory increases.

I have a feeling the Prof. had asked us to do something for this class. I also have a feeling I have no recollection of what it is supposed to be. Very comforting. Hang on, so many guys in here. Elementary probability says chances of me being asked a question are 1/54.

I grow tired after the the .01.. Hmmm, don't worry. You are making it safe and sound.

The class starts. Mr. Brown has now morphed into this serious guy who has a low-bent head. His head is down in his books. I turn around. I think I am doing my best "this is not my class, is it ?" impersonation.

Never make eye contact with the Prof.
Lock on target. Bingo. I offer a weak smile. A smile in return ?
Does not form.

"Mr. X, Have you read the case study?". I have a feeling that this time, it really is my time.

"Aaaah! Mam!"

"Well, have you or have you not?"

"Well mam,...."

I am experiencing a Whisky, Tango, Foxtrot (thanks Mr. Brown!) moment. It is the equivalent of a mid life crisis precipitated by the disappearance of your dog or spouse. When the guests are in the drawing room waiting to have a look. At spouse or dog as the case might be.

Nothing intellectual comes to mind. 'I am shafted here'. That's come with a lot of precision.

"Well actually mam,... I have not."

I decide on the Robin Hood(not the one in tights) approach.
Further details are hazy.

Two minutes later.
I am suitably chastised.

A couple of suckers had taken the ill timed chance to turn back and grin. I am sure they did the same when they were in class 2. I am also sure, personally;unfortunately, that not much has changed since my own dear golden childhood. I am always so in the cross wire.

The case begins without me.

American farmers have been deviant and over produced over the last 20 years and seen the wheat prices fall down. But there a cosmic angle here. Something else has also happened. Naked hungry India has started producing wheat as well. Copiously. The "International" demand in the "local market" has fallen.

I am trying to assuage my teeny weeny guilt. And my sizable embarrassment. My feelings are similar to the ones you get if you drop a drink in a lady's lap.

I am also trying to follow what is actually happening in the case.

I had once remembered something similar happening in some other text book. I formulate a plan. The cases look remarkably familiar. The same suckers got into trouble in that book as well.

I think that solution had something to do with the "demand" curve falling "parallely". My hands jolt into action.

Mr. Brown is jolted too. He has a puzzled look. My hands are in a state of rigor-mortis-parallelis. "Minimum Support Price", I blurt. Nirvana looks remarkably near the nostril. Mr. Brown is now agitated. He has had forebodings of trouble.

"Dude, this might be a good time to shut the _ _ _ _ up."

I look benevolently at him. Watch me. Redemption is just a line away. I think I can bet all on the last chip. Say "All In". Call "Show". Then tell. Pun intended.

Rigor-mortis-parallelis is meanwhile sustained. I detect a break in conversation.

"There comes a tide in the lives of men which taken at flood leads onto fortune." Thank you, Bard. Thank you Sir Wodehouse.

"Ahmmm... Madam."

The Prof. has now turned her attention towards rigor-mortis-parallelis. And me. I speak the golden words.

I then wait for comprehension. Compassion. Appreciation. I am already sneaking a look at the buggers I mentioned above.

Nothing for the first 3 seconds. Applause delayed is applause denied.

"Mr. X," .... O... o....

Irritation. Irritation. Irritation.

"If you have not read the slide, please do not make idle guesses. Please do not participate, if you have not read the case."

I have swallowed a golf ball at this point. Mr. Brown would later make a very vulgar deduction about the golf ball's origin when we get back to the room.

Epilogue:

"Mr. X, I would take up the next case in the next class. "Gasoline shortage and automobiles." You would start the case, after you have gone through it completely. And also please contribute to your team's write up of this case."

Case dismissed.
Lock, stock and two smoking barrels.