7. Title porn

I spent twelve thousand bucks on my university degree (or, I have a never-to-be-repaid debt of 12K, whichever way you want to look at it), and received, for my money, a bunch of letters and parentheses  that I will probably never use in an official capacity, to wit: (BA)(Lang)(Hons).

Luckily for me, our friends the Austrians love a good title, and throw them around with wilful abandon. They have a title called ‘Magister’ which, though your English-speaking brain files it alongside ‘magic’ and ‘register’, actually refers to a university degree somewhere between a Bachelor and a Masters.

l decided that it obviously correlates to my honours degree, and have been titling myself ‘Mag.’ at every possible opportunity. Application for an apartment? Magazine subscription? Competition entry form? Chuck it in there! Why? Because, sad but true, you actually get preferential treatment when you whack on a prefix.

At the doctor’s surgery, I am called up as ‘Frau Magister’, and I suspect the respect on the faces of my fellow patients betrays the fact that they are unaware that 90% of my study career was spent sprawled somewhere with a hangover.

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