Your First Microeconomics Class

You walk into a packed lecture hall, where the words “MICROECONOMIC THEORY: LECTURE 3” are emblazoned on the board. The professor, a lady dressed in a light cardigan, is typing something on her laptop, oblivious to the chatter of the students around her. You glance at your watch - there’s still two minutes before class is due to start.

Professor Ward

You walk down the steps to the middle of the room, and spying a hot girl with an empty seat next to her, find yourself a seat that’s would be a size too small for a midget. You unfold the little desk attached to it, letting loose a despondent creaking noise.

“You’d think they could afford actually desks for us, given the multi-billion dollar endowment,” you say to the girl.

“Yeah, well, you’d think they’d lower the tuition a touch, given the multi-billion dollar endowment,” she replies, shrugging.

“So what’s up with the professor? Does she just ignore the class the whole time?” you ask, looking down at her. She’s got nice tits, you think to yourself. She must be in her mid-thirties or something like that.

“Nah, she teaches once the clock hits 10:30, but not a second before that,” she replies. “Your first time coming to lecture?” She gives you a knowing smirk.

“Nah, was out in the hospital for the last two weeks, under… exceptional circumstances. Let me guess,” you say. “She’s a tenure-track professor who cares more about her research than her students.”

“Damn, you’re good at this. You sure you’ve really been in the hospital?” she replies - you laugh and shake your head - and she continues: “Well, she got up on the first day of class and told us that she’s going to make this class super hard, so that we actually learn economics the proper way or some bullshit like that.”

“You hate to hear that,” you say, pulling out a notebook and pen. “Hey, you got a study group for the class? Would be cool to work with you.”

“I mean, I’ve got two friends that I worked with over the weekend, but yeah, feel free to join,” she says.

“Gotcha,” you say, sliding her your phone with the contacts page open already. “Got a number that I can text late at night, when I need a supply curve to intersect my demand?”

She punches you in the arm but takes the phone anyways. “That was some shit-tier innuendo. God, I’ll text you when I’m doing something hard to let you know that you can help out.”

“Fuck, you’re much better at this thing than I am,” you chuckle, as she passes you back your phone and hands over hers. You take a quick look at the contact page - so this busty girl with the beautiful eyes is Helen.

Helen

As you fill out your details, she says: “You know, I was kinda saving that seat for a friend, but I don’t think I mind you sitting here. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve already given myself a gold star,” you say, and stick a star emoji at the end of your name. She grins as she takes back her phone, just as the professor down below clears her throat.

“Now that you’re all comfortable with the Karush-Kuhn-Tucker theorem, let’s jump right into this multi-period model,” the professor says in a no-nonsense voice. You hear a hundred pens scratch on paper, and hurriedly begin to write as well.

Helen +15

Holy Crap! Story of the Week! We did it, friends… none of this would have been possible without the favourites and likes that you’ve left. Take a breather if this is your first time through the story… we’re just getting to the good part.