Earl Hilke was a Navy man. You knew that because he swore like the stereotypical sailor.  I’ve never before or since heard such “creative” profanities.  (Which shall not be repeated here.)  He was also the Manager of the Media Services department. I had started my new job in Media Services at Ball State in mid-December, just in time for the department’s Christmas party.

The day-long party was setup in our Engineering shop, down the hall from the main office.   The shop had posters of scantily-clad women on the walls and, therefore, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the “party”—but I was.  Nothing says “Christmas” like watching porno tapes (Debbie Does Dallas, Part 2 seemed to be a particular favorite) and drinking booze till you’re drunk as a skunk.  Though, to be fair, I think we did have some Christmas lights to lend it some authenticity.

By mid-afternoon, the party was getting pretty loud.  I’m thinking, “Oh my God, I just started this job.  I can’t be fired!”  Somehow, we managed to make it to 5:00 without being caught.

I should have recognized this as a sign for what lay ahead.