Recently, a friend called with a delicious, if minor, tale. Evidently, there is a club of classified retirees at Saddleback College. The organization has a president, and this president took it upon himself to invite Chancellor Raghu P. Mathur to the club's next meeting.It is easy to imagine how that happened. Raghu loves nothing more than to play the visiting VIP.
According to my friend (who got her info, evidently, from a member of the club), when word of the President's Mathurian invitation got out, many members became upset and communicated among themselves (or to the president?) that they would not be attending any meeting featuring Mathur.
The story reminds me of the beginning of Raghu's Reign of Error. As you know, Raghu, a chemistry instructor, was appointed IVC's interim President in April of 1997. A month earlier, in response to President Larios' departure, the board had decided to have then-Chancellor Lombardi extend his duties to IVC. But Raghu and the old corrupt union engineered a change--one that proved to be illegal, or so said the OC Superior Court. (I was among the petitioners of that suit.)
One of the first things Raghu did as President was to insist on meeting with each of the Schools of IVC. Much of the faculty already viewed Mathur's appointment as illegitimate. After all, Raghu had had no full-time administrative experience. How was the fellow even remotely qualified? Further, he was by then a notorious character on campus, a fellow known for his connivery, dishonesty, and pathological self-importance--some would say, "narcissism."
Hell, even his colleague Glenn Roquemore, then a geology instructor in Raghu's school, recognized Raghu's viciousness. In the early months of 1997, Glenn was working with administrator Pam Deegan to have Mathur removed as chair of the School of Physical Sciences and Technologies, a quasi-administrative position that Raghu held onto by any means necessary.
Glenn, evidently, had his own administrative ambitions, and Mathur was standing (um, sitting) in the way.
So the impending Mathurian Visitation inspired much squirmage, uncertainty, and consternation.
By the time Raghu scheduled a meeting with Humanities & Languages, he had already visited other schools, and there were reports that, at these meetings, he had insisted on going around the room shaking hands with each and every instructor.
"Good Lord," we said. What could be worse than having to stand there shaking hands with this Philistine? --This indefatigable schemer who had been censured for lying and circumventing process by IVC's Instructional Council? --This unprincipled lout whose behavior--among other sins, he had violated a student's privacy by distributing her transcripts--led to a formal reprimand by President Larios? --This grasping brownnoser who, despite his greed (he was the King of excessive reassigned time/overload) and incompetence (you should have seen the mess he made of "Tech Prep"), manifested an inexplicable and inveterate conviction that he was the most talented and deserving hunk of administrative talent the world has ever seen?
Anyone who disagreed was prompty charged, by Raghu, with racism. (Go to end of That finger.)
Well, when the big day arrived, we all showed up and sat there listening to Mathur's insufferable speech about the new regime. Then, sure enough, he went around the room, shaking hands, slowly.
Some of us simply refused to shake his hand. He handled that well. But eventually he got to one of the more senior members of the school, Dale, a widely respected fellow who had himself once served as Interim President. When Raghu got to Dale, Dale reached out his hand and held Raghu's.
There was a pause. Time froze. What was going on?
Dale had decided to counter Raghu's idiotic and offensive "handshake" gambit with a gesture of his own. When Raghu extended his hand, Dale held it and would not let go of it. He looked Raghu straight in the eye.
I do believe that the Gooster panicked a bit. Raghu is the kind of guy who can dish it out all right, but he can't take it, that's for sure. He's a fat toad on his big mushroom, but as soon as you bump him, he freaks and scatters with zero grace and dignity, pissing and spitting in all directions.
Eventually, of course, he recovers; he then adds your name to his Enemies List. In permanent ink.
So Raghu panicked a bit. Dale looked him in the eye. He said something pleasant but meaningful, I forget what. Raghu squirmed, not knowing what to do. He eventually extricated himself and scurried away, attempting to get the unpleasantness behind him.
That was the last time he tried his handshake gimmick, at least with the School of H & L.
But Raghu's got a big bag of tricks. (He's also got a big bag of awards, which he used to pull out and explain at every opportunity.) For a time, Raghu had a "servant" campaign. He'd show up everywhere with a terry cloth towel draped over his arm. Upon it was written, "How may I serve you?" Just imagine.
Everyone snickered. Especially classified employees.
(No one is less servant-like than the lordly Raghu.)
For a while, Raghu would go to meetings, forcing all in attendance to clap exactly once for everything and everybody that, in his mind, deserved clappage. (Some speculated that Raghu was offended that some persons received more clappage than others [i.e., than he]. The solution? Everyone gets just one.)
He actually gave this odd practice a name. He called it the "Orange County Clap," evidently unaware of the word's other meaning. (Raghu's infamous "clap" and "poinsettia" episodes)
Then there was the time Raghu promoted a list of allegedly morale-boosting activities, including this: each employee should draw a hand on a piece of paper. Using that "hand," he should then give himself "a pat on the back." (Raghu's wildfires of inanity)
"Surely," we said, "the fellow is joking!"
But no.
(At Mathur's last visitation of the School of H&L [last Fall], four faculty showed up.)
