September 24, 1996  □  Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

I am a philosopher again, and my department has one vacancy. We are searching for a new colleague. Jobs are scarce and so our ad has attracted an enormous number of applicants. Some send us written information; others show up in person.

Among the applicants are the Archbishop of Canterbury and Madonna, the pop star. Considering that jobs are so much in demand, only Madonna surprises us. We distribute questionnaires to all candidates, intending to make our choice based upon the written answers. Our problem is finding a quiet place in which to deliberate.

Each place we consider is unsuitable for some reason: one is too crowded, another too noisy, another is just a hallway—too public. We find a room that is quiet and comfortable, but lacks a blackboard—a necessity—and we leave it reluctantly.

As we wander, looking for the perfect space, we collect more and more candidates who follow us, pleading for attention. Some have brought their small children—to play on our sympathies? We put the candidates off, shout them down, sometimes push them back and shut the doors on them.

One of our department members, Paul, who is a musician as well as a philosopher, takes time out to play a jazzy tune on a cello-like instrument. As he plays, he beats time against the wooden body of the instrument using strings of beads wound around its neck. The music improves the moods not only of the candidates, but also of the many others who crowd around, curious to see, for the first time, a search for a philosopher.

Instead, what they get to see is a search for a room. Even as we scurry about, we are discussing the candidates. All seem well qualified, and it is distressing to imagine choosing among them. Someone suggests that if only we get rid of ‘Bob’, a quiet member of our department, we could hire not one but two of the applicants.

We consider this idea. The net effect on the department might well be positive, but it seems awfully hard on Bob. Then, suddenly, a message reaches us from Berlin, a demand that the issue be decided by public election. The danger to Bob is forgotten as we all realize that a public ballot will certainly result in the selection of…Madonna.