Free Moondance by Karen M. Black

marketing, accounting, finance, statistics, and operations. The pace was intense and students learned the discipline and efficiency to scan, absorb, interpret, analyze and produce recommendations, then move on.
    To manage the workload, groups organized in various ways. Some-times, two to three people agreed to take care of one assignment, and the balance of the group another. Or, if the assignment was a big one, they’d work together, dividing the project up into stages of research and writing. Then there what was known as “graph girls” or boys whose job it was to take data and present it in graphical form. A ten-page mba paper often meant ten pages of writing, with thirty pages of graphed appendices.
    Althea, Trisha, Hermann and Tony got to know each other during orientation. In the first week of full-time classes, they were joined by Celia Thom. Celia had a psychology degree, with a minor in fine arts and had just moved from London, England. She immediately embraced the role of devil’s advocate and Althea liked her.
    “That doesn’t make sense,” Celia said, leaning forward, looking at Hermann who had been speaking. They were huddled in a meeting room around a small table, trying to come up with their approach to an organizational behavior project — a major assignment worth sixty per cent of their mark. It was eight thirty at night and they had been there since two in the afternoon.
    “You don’t think it makes sense because I’m suggesting we follow a process,” Hermann bristled. “It’s the only way we can get this done on time. This isn’t a piece of art, for fuck’s sake.”
    Hermann and Celia were like oil and water. Celia’s eyes flashed and her voice dropped.
    “It’s not the process I object to, Hermann. If you had been listening to me, you’d realize that I just don’t want to make a final decision on the approach before we do some of the basic research.”
    “But we have to decide now. There’s no time,” Hermann protested.
    “So we build the decision into the process,” Celia said.
    “I don’t think —” Trisha started, and Hermann got up from his seat and paced.
    “No, nobody here is thinking!” He looked around the group. “I can’t work like this! How the hell did you people even get into this program?” The silence was palpable. Trisha spoke.
    “Hermann, don’t make this personal,” said Trisha, who had taken on the role of peacemaker for Group D. Tony sat silent. Whenever conflict arose, Tony refused to engage. Hermann’s voice rose.
    “I’m so sick of this shit!”
    “Look,” Althea said. “We have to make this decision, but for tonight, let’s move on, okay? We’ve been at it for over five hours.”
    “You always take her side.” Hermann flicked his eyes angrily between the two women. “This is bullshit.”
    Althea sighed. “I’m seeing both sides, Hermann. Micro is due tomorrow. Can we agree to disagree on OB for now, and move on to micro or we’ll be here all night.”
    “I agree. Let’s move on,” Tony said. It was the first time he had spoken in the last hour.
    Hermann looked at Tony, his eyes blank.
    The group broke up just after midnight. Their microeconomics paper was due the next day. They decided that Tony would finish writing and Hermann would produce the graphs. Both would email their sections to Althea, who would edit the paper, proofread it, assemble it and hand it in.
    For all Hermann’s rigid attitude, he could be counted on to meet deadlines. Trisha, while a peacemaker, had also turned out to be the procrastinator in the group. As for herself, Althea discovered that she was a bit of a control-freak. It was difficult letting others do work that she’d get graded on, even when the ones doing the work had more experience in some areas than she had. She just wasn’t as vocal about it as Hermann.
    “See you guys,” Trisha said, heading with Tony toward the parking garage. Althea and Celia walked outside.
    “I’m too hyper to