Guy had just been taken on as lettore, or reader, in the faculty of literature and foreign languages when he was asked to be part of the commission for the new research post.
One of the candidates was a young woman. She entered the room on towering heels and made a big show of tucking in her business skirt as she sat down on the chair before the commission.
If, like the other male member of the commissions, Guy was mesmerized by her performance, when it came to the English part of her exam; he inwardly groaned.
The candidate withdrew. The commission began to discuss the merits of her case.
“I’m sorry to say,” said Guy. “Her English was quite terrible. It would be asking a lot to give her a pass.”
The members of the commission fell silent.
Guy realized something was up when the head of department spoke up. “I think we all agree,” he said, “this is a worthy candidate.”
“Guy,” said one of the other professors, “eighteen does seem a little low. Do you not think you could see your way to putting up her mark to twenty-four?”
University exams were out of thirty and the minimum pass mark was eighteen.
Guy shrugged. It was all the same to him.
Later, he was speaking to one of his colleagues. “The Professor was always so friendly to me,” he said, “now he just ignores me.”
“Oh, dear,” said his colleague, when Guy had explained what happened during the exam, “you realize that girl was his niece.”
“I didn’t know,” he said. “Anyway, she still passed.” “Of course,” said his colleague, “the Professor cannot afford to make a brutta figura with his colleagues.”