Show Me the Data

"Do you have Jenn's number?" I ask my colleague.

He makes a face. Why would he have her number? I think she used to have a thing for him a year ago, though he didn't return the sentiment.

"I haven't called that number," he says, a little too defensive.

"I called what was her old extension," I say, "but I got Josh K."

"I've never called that one or the new one," he says. "Why do you need to talk to her?"

"She's registering my student today."

"That's a bad idea," he says. "Why didn't you have me do it?"

"I'm not going to have you register my student."

"I've registered more students than any faculty member on this campus."

"Are you sure about that?" I ask.

"More students each semester, more students than any faculty member on campus," he states.

"Can you back that up?"

"I've registered more students than any of the faculty members on campus."

"Even the ones who've been here for over twenty years."

"I don't know. Probably."

"I'd like to see the data behind that."

"I'm not going to show you the data, he says."

"Well, I still want to see that data."

"You're not going to see the data," he says, looks at his computer screen, "motherfucker."