Cambridge and Oxford

2

Outwardly, Tom and I managed to maintain a veneer of professional courtesy in the office. But privately, the roots of our rivalry ran deep.

It all started in high school when we were neck-and-neck for valedictorian. The day our final exam results came out, Tom swaggered up to me in the hallway. “So, where are you planning to apply for college?”

“Anywhere but the same one as you,” I snapped.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Well, I happen to be applying to Cambridge.”

Anger flared inside me. The nerve of him to assume I’d blindly follow his lead! “In that case, I’ll be going to Oxford,” I declared hotly.

We glared at each other before turning on our heels and storming off in opposite directions.

But fate had other plans. When it came time to submit our university applications, I chose Cambridge while Tom picked Oxford.

I still remember the furious late-night phone call from Tom when he found out. “You complete idiot!” he yelled before abruptly hanging up, leaving me wide awake and confused in my bed.

We had somehow ended up at each other’s first-choice university because of a silly miscommunication and stubborn pride.

At Cambridge, I quickly excelled, graduating top of my class. I was certain Tom was seething with jealousy at Oxford. Served him right for his arrogance!

Now, at our company, the rivalry simmered below the surface. I would frequently tout Cambridge's academic rigor and esteemed reputation in the sciences.

"We have exceptionally high standards at Cambridge and a stellar record of producing pioneering research and numerous Nobel laureates," I would pointedly remark to Tom. "But I guess Oxford has its strengths too."

Tom would usually reply with a sarcastic retort. “Ah yes, Cambridge and its illustrious tradition of churning out socially awkward bookworms! At Oxford, we encourage creativity and free thinking, which is why so many of our graduates go on to shape culture and politics.”

During one heated exchange, Tom sneered, “While your Cambridge cronies have their noses buried in books, we Oxford fellows are out experiencing the real world!”

“Better to have your nose in a book than stuck up in pretentious snobbery!” I shot back.

We traded verbal blows until Simon walked by and complimented our “friendly debate.” We quickly plastered on fake smiles.

Privately, the old wounds still festered. I heard through office gossip that Tom’s research had been well-received at a recent conference. I refused to acknowledge his success and instead doubled down on my latest policy proposal.

However, a small part of me wondered whether it was time to bury the hatchet. We had each ended up exactly where we were meant to be all along. Perhaps our unintentional university swap had been fate's way of teaching us humility.

The next day, Tom and I met for lunch at a cafe near the office. I had resolved to take a more conciliatory approach after our friendly conversation at the holiday party.

“This place has great sandwiches,” I said affably as we sat down. “I’m glad we could meet up.”

“Me too,” Tom replied, though he seemed distracted as he scanned the menu.

I plowed ahead, determined to find common ground. “You know, I have such fond memories of my time at Cambridge. Punting down the River Cam through the picturesque colleges was always the highlight.”

Tom made a noncommittal noise, not looking up from his menu.

“Cambridge is so lovely, like a city on the water,” I continued enthusiastically. “I felt so fortunate to be there and have access to such excellent resources and professors.”

I waited for Tom's inevitable counter about Oxford's superiority, but he remained silent. "Anyway, I'm sure you enjoyed Oxford too," I added politely.

Tom gave a noncommittal shrug. "Oxford was fine, nothing special. On par with other decent universities."

His flippant response surprised me. Before I could dig deeper, Tom steered the conversation down memory lane.

"Remember in 10th grade when you face-planted trying to hurdle in PE class?" He chuckled at the recollection. "Or in 12th grade calculus when you wrote gibberish on the final because you ran out of time?"

I felt my face grow warm. "Well some of us focused more on academics than athletic prowess," I said defensively.

Tom smirked. "Ah yes, I remember carrying the team in multiple sports while acing all my classes."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help cracking a smile. Some things never changed with him.

The conversation then pivoted to work matters. Tom enthusiastically shared an idea he was developing about a bike commuting initiative for our office.

"Think about the environmental impact if we got more staffers cycling. I could lead educational seminars on urban bike safety too," he explained.

As Tom prattled on about route planning and proper equipment, my mind drifted back to high school when I had struggled just to jog one lap without getting winded. Meanwhile Tom effortlessly breezed through obstacle courses and was varsity captain across multiple sports.

I must have had a pained expression recalling my lack of athletic coordination because Tom grinned and said, "What's wrong? Don't tell me you still don't know how to ride a bike?"

"Of course I do! Quite well in fact," I bluffed, ignoring the teenage girl inside me cringing at the idea of biking alongside ultra-fit Tom.

Before I could inquire more about Tom's university experience, he glanced at his watch. "Shoot, I better get back to the office. See you around!"

As Tom hurried off, I sighed, realizing I still hadn't made much progress in resolving our misunderstandings. But at least we could still trade some light-hearted barbs. It was comforting to know some things hadn't changed between us, even if so much still lay unsaid.