Chapter 10
The committee for my oral exam consisted of three professors from the Industrial Engineering Department: Dr. Hutchinson, the department head, known to be tough on students; Dr. Snyder, who came to my parties with Professor Buchan; and my trusted advisor as well as good friend, Professor Buchan. I wasn’t worried at all about Professor Buchan, and I was comfortable with Dr. Snyder; although, as the saying goes, “You never know.” However, I was concerned about whether or not Dr. Hutchinson would give me a hard time.
The night before the exam, while I studied my thesis at Sewa Singh’s apartment, Professor Buchan showed up at the front door. “Tomorrow I’m throwing a party after your oral exam to celebrate your graduation,” he announced. Then, looking at Sewa, he added with a big grin, “And Kris is cooking!”
“But Professor Buchan,” I began with wide eyes. “What if I don’t pass the exam? You will have to cancel the party, and I will look like a fool.”
“Just be yourself,” Professor Buchan said, as if that were the easiest thing in the world. “Answer the questions directly and to the point.”
The next day, I arrived early to set up my thesis materials. It was a labor of love, and I had not worked so hard on anything in all my years at college. For the graduation requirement, I printed five soft covers and three hard covers. On the dedication page, I wrote: “This thesis is fondly dedicated to two wonderful people—Father and Mother.” My eyes filled with tears when I came to this part. I felt my parents had been with me all these years, guiding me along the path of my dream to receive an engineering degree.
As the hour of the examination approached, I waited anxiously outside the room. One by one, the committee members arrived and took their seats on one side of the conference table. After a minute, Professor Buchan stuck his head outside the door and waved for me to come in. “We’re ready for you,” he said.
Upon entering the room, I greeted each of them with a handshake, saying, “Dr. Hutchinson, sir. Dr. Snyder, sir. Professor Buchan, sir.” Then, I stood in front of them and waited for their permission to start.
Professor Buchan took the lead. “Kris go ahead and explain your thesis to us.”
Launching into a brief background of my topic, I described the methods I’d used to collect information, conduct research, form an analysis, develop staffing formulas, and create a methodology for other hospitals to use my formulas. Each committee member was required to ask at least two questions. Dr. Snyder asked the first question.
“Explain the previous research on the staffing formula and methodology for the hospital’s Lab Department,” he said.
Once I explained, he followed up with another question regarding the staffing formula. “Explain using the blackboard,” he said.
Suddenly, I became inexplicably nervous as I walked to the blackboard and tried to explain in greater detail. At one point, when I became confused between the workload formula and the staffing formula, Dr. Snyder grew huffy and impatient. “Damn, Kris, just write the formula,” he said in a frustrated voice.
My mind went blank as I tried to think what to write on the board.
Thumping his fist on the table, Dr. Snyder commanded, “Kris, please just write the damn formula on the board.”
Flustered by his behavior, I couldn’t think at all.
Just when I started to think my industrial engineering degree was about to go down the tubes, Professor Buchan spoke up. “Kris, write your staffing formula and explain the parameters and limitations of the formula.”
Immediately, it clicked in my mind what I needed to write. “Okay,” I said with renewed vigor and inspiration.
Effortlessly, I wrote the staffing formula and explained it.
“Now, Kris, that was not so difficult,” Dr. Snyder said, leaning back in his chair.
I was sweating a little, chalk powder sticking to my clammy hands, as Professor Buchan asked his two questions and Dr. Hutchinson wrapped up the exam by asking about the conclusions and recommendations. I answered quickly, and then they asked me to wait in the hall while they made their decision.
After a while, Professor Buchan asked me to join them. The moment I entered the room, I saw a smile on Dr. Snyder’s face. Then Professor Buchan gave me the news. “Congratulations, Kris. You passed.”
Relief surged through me. Not knowing what to do or say, I simply thanked all three of them. They congratulated me and shook my hand before I left the room. I was halfway down the hall when Professor Buchan called after me, “Don’t forget to go to my apartment and get the food ready for the party!”
Joyfully, I drove to Sewa Singh’s apartment. Everything was filled with light and happiness. Birds sang in the trees under a cloudless sky, and the traffic in the streets seemed to open up for me as I maneuvered past the houses up the hill and the remaining few blocks to Sewa’s place. He sat on the porch, waiting anxiously to see how I’d done.
I jumped out of the car and shouted, “I made it, Sewa! I passed the orals! Let’s celebrate with beer!” Leaping up the porch steps in bounds, I went straight for the kitchen. Sewa and I pulled back the tabs on our beers, clicked the cans together, and said, “Cheers!”
“Here’s to no more studying!” I exclaimed, tilting my head back and taking a large swig.
Five minutes later, Sewa and I drove to Professor Buchan’s apartment to prepare the big feast. Sewa was playing hooky from work so he could be at this party, and while cutting onions and cleaning the chicken, we drank more beer. Professor Buchan joined us at around 5:00
