“I’m afraid,” the chair said, “that the faculty committee has no choice but to deny you tenure, Dr. Smith.”

“But why?” Smith said, arms cast wide to encompass the whole Department of Literature committee. “The guidelines say that I have to publish at least three memes, and I have published six across three different social media platforms!”

“You need to take a closer look at the tenure requirements as updated,” the chair said. “You need to publish at least three viral memes. None of your memes surpassed the 10,000-share or 100,000-view threshold as set out by the new tenure documents.”

“But two of them made it onto Know Your Meme!” cried Smith. “Surely that’s enough!”

Some murmuring from the committee, as the members whispered amongst one another. “I’m sorry, but those are provisional entries to Know Your Meme, still being researched for permanent inclusion as of this hearing,” the chair said at length. “While a verified Know Your Meme entry might be cause for leniency, in this case the committee sees none.”

Smith sagged, defeated.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Smith,” the chair said. “You’re a fantastic teacher and researcher. But a leading university like this has to remain relevant, and without faculty producing and submitting dank memes on the regs, we risk losing that relevancy.”

“But I published five books and ten articles a year,” Smith whined.

“Very impressive,” the chair said. “It will look good on your resume and CV, I’m sure. You have six months to set your affairs in order before automatic termination. Do you have anything else to add?”

Smith looked up at the chair, eyes tearing up, barely able to croak out the words: “Lol, no.”

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