JOHN: I have asked you here. (Pause) I have asked you here against, against my.
Carol: I was most surprised you asked me.
The third act opens with a number of false starts; John has invited Carol to his office and spends two pages telling her that he'd like her to hear him out—two pages constantly interrupted, that is, by her antagonisms and assurances that she "didn't have to come here." Carol mentions, in fact, that the court officers told her not to come. John is not sure what to make of this phrase, "court officers," but she threatens to leave before he gets to ask. John feels she is owed an apology, having re-read the accusations before the tenure committee, but, before he can apologize, she points out that they are not accusations but rather proven facts.
The telephone rings as he gives in to her point. It is unclear who it is, but whoever gives John messages from both his wife and Jerry, both of whom are concerned about him. He asks that the caller tell them he's fine, assures the caller he will call them, and hangs up. He has spent some time studying the indictment, he tells Carol, but she does not understand the word. He describes it in terms of alleged conditions, but she "cannot come to allow" that anything in the report is not fact; it has been ruled upon by the tenure committee, who have found John "negligent...guilty...wanting, and in error," and have subsequently recommended discipline. John complains that he is going to be fired, and Carol launches into a monologue berating him that his situation is not caused by any uncontrollable property of his (for example, sex, race, or class) but instead by his own actions. His arguments will have no effect on her, she tells, because he has worked not for his career and his responsibilities, but for the power to be in the position he is in, which she says is that of a privileged white male with the power to insult her.
"Don't you have feelings?" John asks, and Carol jumps upon that as indicative of his oppression. If she doesn't take his side, she is subhuman and lacking feelings. Carol cites her responsibility to the school, other students, and her group—all of whom suffer what she suffers in some form—as reason not to forgive him. She reads off examples from her notes of his harassment, examples such as "Have a good day, dear," which she views as John exploiting the "paternal prerogative." Carol almost even equates this transgression to rape. He asked her into his office originally to explain something to her, she says; she came instead to instruct him. His book, instead of being "outside of tradition", is banal—John believes, she shouts, in nothing at all.
"I believe in freedom of thought," he responds. Why would he then question the committee's decision, she asks. He responds that he believes in "freedom-of- thought and a home, and, and prerogatives for your kid, and tenure"; in other words, he believes in the oppressive elitist paradigm currently in place. Carol warns John that he is wrong and that she knows what he thinks of her. She warns him that he projects to her emotions from fright to rage to sexual discomfort. He admits to it, and she tells him she came to tell him that he is wrong; she asks if he hates her, and he responds in the affirmative. Rather, she says it is the power she holds over him that he hates, so much so that free discussion is impossible; he agrees.
This same hate for this same power, Carol lectures, is the type which she and her group must submit themselves to every day; it is the system in place against which they are judged, and if it is fair for them, it is similarly fair for him. Carol's speech is now filled with pauses as she tells about how many students overcome prejudices to attend college and are in danger of losing that privilege, yet are mocked by educators like John. Carol's charges, she says, were not trivial, though they seem so to him. He says that they were devoid of sexual content, but she claims they are not and that it's not for him to say.
John stammers that she makes good points but that he can change. You little yapping fool"; Carol warns him that she doesn't want revenge, she wants understanding. He doesn't see any use, as his job is over. At mention of his job, she begins to leave but steps back.
As the third act opens, Carol has assumed John's original role; the initial clues are rhetorical, as she is constantly interrupting him and not really listening to what he is saying. More than just rhetorical style has shifted; however, their power roles, too, have shifted, as the act features Carol threatening to leave several times and John almost begging her to stay. John, however, is showing that not all of his behavior is necessarily that of an oppressive professor. When he uses the word "transpire," Carol verbally assaults him for deliberately speaking over her head. John may simply have a large vocabulary and may not intend to impress, and the word likely slips out when he is at his most defensive and honest, not contrived to impress or dominate.
John's concern for his job ironically mirrors Carol's concern for grades in the first act, another sign that they have switched roles. John is no longer concerned with developing an understanding or even clearing his good name. Instead, he focuses on a simple point, his job, and endeavors to save that as one step in the road to solving his problems. This focus might yield a little insight into Carol's early concern: when everything is falling apart, Carol reached for the most obvious and concrete goal—grades—as a beginning point upon which to build. Similarly ironic is her statement in this section that she doesn't wish revenge, but instead understanding; John is now at the same point Carol occupied when the play began and cannot simply understand. He grasps at his job and his sanity as small goals, but without regaining them, he cannot begin to understand Carol.
Carol's lectures on her place within the academic system ring very true at certain points. She seems to fear that educators like John, who comment on the system itself and question its appropriateness as an institution, go too far in objecting to its existence. Even if a C student attend a typical college, the experience is likely to have many positive effects, both scholastically and otherwise. But, John warns that it is taken for granted and may also have ill effects upon that student, perpetuating the status quo. It remains, however, that John never gets very far in his description of the ill effects.
The examples Carol finally lists to support her accusations are, as she recounts them, ultimately ridiculous. None of them fall under the legal guidelines for rape or battery, particularly as they stood at the time of the play's writing. They may be instances of covert harassment, but Mamet wishes the audience to hinge on the "may"; he points to the slippery definition of sexual harassment and the difficulty of setting bounds in behavior. Ultimately, John and Carol are speaking two different languages—but as long as her side exists, it is the one on which the law will support.