Snap Decisions

I liked Jon from the moment he walked in my office. He was tall, maybe right around 6 feet tall, I’d guess. And he was on the lean side. Tall and lanky, like a seedling that hadn’t gotten enough sun and grew spindly constantly reaching out for its light.

Universities have a reputation for using students as a cheap labor alternative. Jon had answered an ad I posted seeking a student to assist in our treasurer's office. He had transferred to the university from a small local college, where he'd studied computer science. Prior to that he'd done a stint in the armed forces reserves. And before that, he’d graduated from a rural, small town high school.

If and when I needed a permanent employee, the university’s HR department took care of all of the preliminary interviewing, background and education checks. They would then send the top candidates for me to make a final choice. But, when hiring currently registered students, it was up to me to determine their merit.

Back then, I liked to think I was a good reader of people, that I could quickly assess the best candidates. To me, Jon appeared to be an intelligent, mature young man.

He caught onto the job quickly. When uncertain, he asked questions. And it's not easy to handle a full academic load and manage a part-time job. Yet, Jon seemed to be handling it well… or so I thought.

***

It was a couple of weeks into the semester break, the day of the university's annual holiday luncheon for staff, and any residual faculty who hadn't flown the coop the minute grades were posted. Student workers didn't actually receive an invitation to the celebration, but I always made sure to bring any students in my employ along with me. Staff would work the morning, and around 11 a.m. head over to the banquet, which ended at 2 p.m.  Everyone attending would be paid as if they’d worked the full day.

Jon was always prompt and so he showed up for work the morning of the luncheon as usual, albeit looking a bit peaked. "Are you feeling okay, Jon?" I asked.

"I'm fine, now. I didn't sleep well last night."

I kept my eye on him. There was something about his glassy-eyed look that told me it wasn't from being sick. Suddenly it hit me, "Holy Jesus, he's high!" I saw my coworker's raised eyebrows and oblique glance as I grabbed Jon and guided him into my office and shut the door.

“Okay, Jon, what is up? And please, be honest with me.”

"Like I said, I didn't sleep last night..." began his story about a mixup with a roommate and "long story short," Jon was now temporarily homeless. He was on a roommate-waiting-list at the university, but wouldn't have a place until the start of the new academic year - another 3 weeks away! So, he'd been sleeping in the library, taking showers in the university’s fitness center, eating cans of tuna, and hanging out either at the library or at Standees a local 24-hour restaurant adjacent to the "el." Standees had free coffee refills and more importantly never asked questions of its "iffy" clientele.

Chicago winters can be brutal, so one night when Jon ran into an old girlfriend he took her up on her offer of a place to crash for the night. "I've got some weed," she offered over a can of beer. And later some kind of a stimulant or a sedative, or maybe it was both. He said that between his armed forces stint and his college he'd gotten “high” occasionally with friends. But, he had tried to put that behind him. He looked me in the eye and said, "It's not the life I want."

I asked about his parents, or any family who could assist. His parents were divorced, his mother lived out-of-state with his 16 year old sister who had down's syndrome. And his father? "He has his own life and problems. Look, I don’t want to bother my parents. I prefer to handle this on my own."

Holy smokes! What had I gotten myself into? A treasurer’s office that handled cash, was hardly the spot for a kid delving in drugs. I had to make a gut decision. Is he telling me the truth? I think only seconds into his story, I'd already made up my mind. I took him to the dining room and had him get some food in his system. While he ate, I went straight to my office and picked up the telephone.

***

I made a reservation at one of the dorm rooms set aside for visitors to the university, temporary but clean and basic shelter.

After he'd eaten, I explained that the university had an ombudsperson. "It's completely confidential. Would you be willing to talk to him? Perhaps he could offer suggestions."

"Yes."

The ombudsperson got Jon bumped up into an emergency status for rooming. That took care of his housing situation...

Then I hoped and maybe I prayed, I don't remember.

We all enjoyed our holiday luncheon which began a four day weekend. I enjoyed my time off with my family and loved ones, pausing occasionally to wonder how Jon was doing. But, having "slept on it" I remained sure I'd done the right thing.

***

Monday morning, after his early class, he promptly arrived for work, looking again like the sharp young man I'd hired only months ago. He and I never talked about that particular incident again.

Instead we'd talk about work-related stuff, or about our families. It was always with interest he'd listen to tales of my daughter who had travelled through Europe after her graduation and was now living and teaching in Asia and occasionally visiting other nearby foreign countries.

I invited him to attend one of the university basketball games that my husband and I enjoyed as season ticket holders. And darned if he didn't show up, looking a bit forlorn in that huge raucous gym packed to rafters with students and fans from both teams. There he ran into a female friend with whom he'd gone to high school. She was a cheerleader and she urged him to try out for the squad. He did and made the team.

This isn't about me or the others who supported Jon at the time, but about Jon, himself. He was the one who made each choice along the way. Upon graduation he set out, with a backpack, to see the world. Upon return he took a job and continued to travel whenever his work schedule permitted. Last time I checked he had visited 60 or more countries in five or six continents.

And you never knew where he'd turn up. One Saturday my husband and I made our usual bet against each other and chose our "picks" for the Kentucky Derby. And who was in Kentucky at the Derby at that very moment? Jon and a female companion he was "courting" (his word) at the time.

That was a few years back. Every now and then we'd share a few words or photos via email or Facebook. He's filled out a bit and no longer looks like a lanky seedling. Jon got tired of waiting for the sun to shine upon him, so he reached out, grabbed the sun and pulled it in closer.

As it happens, the student became the teacher. I remember his response when someone questioned whether he'd watched the latest, red-hot, primetime television show. "No, I don't watch much television. It's really such a waste of time…" 

My gut instinct told me then: Jon is surely right about that.

***

I don't know if he reads my blog, but "Jon" is not his real name. Jon, if you read this, you know this is your story. And I never said this to you in person, but I will now:  "It's a privilege to know you. You are a source of inspiration to me."