7:00 a.m. Wake up. Jesus, it’s cold.

7:30 a.m. After a quick shower, catch latest episode of Captain Planet and the Planeteers on Cartoon Network. It’s one of just a dozen or so chances I’ll have to log some quality relaxation time today.

7:55 a.m. Jump in the car. Jesus, it’s cold. On the drive to Tuck, I go through some exercises to get ready for the day ahead. First, I try to channel my old high school principal to get in the right state of mind. Then, I do some vocal exercises with Italian vowel sounds. It keeps me close to my roots and keeps my vocal chords in form. You see, talking really loud is my shtick. I recite ma-me-mi-mo-mu, which rendered in English is something like mah-meh-me-mow-moo. Ma-me-mi-mo-mu, ma-me-mi-mo-mu, ma-me-mi-mo-mu. I am at peace with myself. Ma-me-mi-mo-mu, ma-me-mi-mo-mu.

8:20 a.m. Stroll into Tuck. I swing by the Lubrano Classroom and touch the plaque outside. It makes me feel like a Notre Dame player who touches the “Play like a Champion Today” sign before taking the field. Manage the Tuck School’s Operations like a Champion today, Steve Lubrano! I hum the family fight song to myself on the way upstairs.

8:25 a.m. I arrive at my office and check my Outlook calendar for the day’s schedule. The annual Lubrano Can Case isn’t today, so no need for an in-class cameo. I block off some time to glad-hand some visiting execs after their presentations. No firm commitments until 11 a.m. though.

8:27 a.m. Lock door, turn off lights, put head down.

11:00 a.m. Meeting with Dartmouth representatives over the moratorium. It’s our team of deans versus theirs, and we have them outnumbered. I begin the meeting by crushing a beer can on my forehead. It was a Foster’s oil can, so I thought they would be impressed. Instead, they seem appalled. The Dartmouth deans even remark that Tuck students behave worse than the most savage Native American undergrads at the College.

12:00 p.m. The other Tuck deans and I head to Molly’s after the meeting. Unfortunately, there’s a really long wait for a table for eight.

1:00 p.m. I begin a marathon stretch of Leadership Development Plan meetings. I can’t believe the schlock these first years serve up. Out of eight meetings this afternoon, not a single one of them has any clue about leadership or ambition. NONE of them aspires to returning to Tuck as a dean! Give me a break. I tell them all to tear their plans up and start over.

5:00 p.m. It’s been a long day. I’ll be lucky if I get 11 hours of sleep tonight. I head for my car and the drive home.

5:10 p.m. Pit stop at the Co-Op service station on Lyme Road to grab a couple of Foster’s Oil Cans.

5:30 p.m. After fighting through Hanover rush-hour traffic, I make it home. I put my feet up, crack a Foster’s, and grin. Another day, another dollar.

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