Some days, I just can’t stand Duke and its elitism and constant muddling administrative bureaucracy. I have spent countless hours and dollars on this institution and they never, ever give anything back to me. I was at the Blue and White Senior dinner, where Duke expects seniors to donate money, and I was searching for Brodhead so I could talk to him about the whole donation process. I searched for him all night—ostensibly this is his event—and he was nowhere to be found.
But venturing outside and seeing that our university’s president had turned into a 25-foot fire-breathing dragon, I did the only thing I knew to do; I dueled him atop the Chapel and slayed the Dick Brodbeast as the clock struck midnight. However, now that I’ve slain Brodhead in a fantastical duel atop the Chapel, Duke won’t let me put it on my resume. It is ludicrous that I can fight and kill a university president-turned-gigantic-fire-breathing-dragon atop the iconic Duke landmark, and not be allowed to talk about it on my resume.
Can you imagine how easy it will be to bring up in job interviews?
“What’s your greatest strength?” “My skills in dragon-slaying.”
Or, “What was one of your most difficult tasks and how did you accomplish it?” “Well Mr. Suit Man, the most difficult task of my college career would be a tie between finishing a major statistics group project by myself and that time I slayed my university president atop a church in the rain with my dazzling steel sword, Brod-beHeader, after he turned into a monstrous black and green dragon that spat out jets of fire from his evil maw.”
But now, Duke will not let me put it under the Academic Accomplishments section of my resume, because it would “demean the Duke degree.” I should get my due recognition for entering a dragon’s lair and slaying him atop the very treasure he sought to protect. It’s not my fault that I could outmaneuver a three-ton serpentine nightmare while teetering 210 feet above Abele quad with nothing but my wits and my dangerously sharp steel broadsword that I named Brod-sword.
Duke cannot honestly think that I wasn’t going to put this spectacular feat fit for a fairy tale in my resume. Honestly, Duke should be thanking me for vanquishing such a foul demon. Even Brodhead in his final draconian form congratulated me on besting him, as he said, “Many a hero has tried to slay me, but now you, Nicholas ‘Nick’ Younger, have the honor of decapitating my dragon head and tossing it down the lengths of the Chapel to show that you are the true champion of Duke University. May death find you swift, my nemesis.” Brodhead then left me the keys to his office that he said led to a vast trove of gold, Duke Blue sapphires and Duke basketball merchandise. He was so generous in his last hours, so how could Duke be so uptight to not let me boast about my valor in battle?
I hate to sound like I’m bragging, but in 1976 when George Edwards slew the UCLA president in a mortal duel in front of the entire student populace, he became a saint! I would like to be able to reference it in a networking event in Sanford or over coffee with some consulting big-shot. The least Duke could do is frame my beautiful dragon blood-covered silver great-sword, Dick’s Bane, in the president’s office as a warning to all fantasy beasts that covet the Duke presidency. I hear Vincent Price is a pretty tame werewolf, so he’ll be spared.
I would go ahead and write “Dragon Slayer, Spring 2017: Slayed President Richard Brodhead atop the Duke Chapel” on my resume, but I’m worried that if an employer contacts Duke they will say, “Oh no, our president is human! And so very much alive and well!” Which would be a lie, because you can clearly see a smoldering dragon’s head twitching on the grass right in front of the Chapel with a clean blade chop right through the middle of its neck. I would get a photo and attach it to a resume drop, but any time you try to take a photo of a dragon’s body the picture spontaneously combusts, as modern technology cannot document the existence of legendary creatures.
Sadly, if Duke won’t corroborate my story, I’m not sure what I will do. I’d hate to take legal action, but if push comes to shove, I’m willing to do it. In my opinion, Duke is trampling all over my liberties. It is my right to be able to let the world know that I battled a university administrator high in the clouds with thunder and rain battering my body, and delivered a climactic and fatal blow into the belly of the beast while fire spewed from his dagger-like tooth filled mouth. Who knows, this fateful duel may be the last thing I need to get that second McKinsey interview.
Nick Younger is a Trinity senior. His column, “Medical Professionals Hate Him!” runs on alternate Fridays.
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