Masters, Part 4

I stepped into Yolanda's office in front of Miyako and Pete Post, who shut the door behind him. Yolanda was already sitting down.

Pete began, "Stokie, you know that as a veteran staff, the organization values your investment and experience here..."

I said, "That line is always followed by 'however...'"

"However, from time to time even the veteran staff show signs of stress and make mistakes in their handlings of the kids here. And I'm here to talk to you about this morning and determine if there were any mistakes made and talk to you about whether or not you're feeling any stress on the job."

"Well, Pete, I appreciate your concern for my welfare. I don't remember anything about this morning and I'd have to read Miyako's incident report to remind myself. May I see it please?"

"Actually, she hasn't completed it yet. She came to me with it and asked for help with the English. When I helped her write it, she described the incident to me and I became concerned about your handling of the client."

"So there's no incident report? I better get to work on it right away. Miyako, why didn't you just come to me for help on the IR? Why did you go to Pete? After all, I was the one who was there, not Pete."

Pete squirmed in his chair. "I don't think that's the point here..."

Yolanda piped up, "Yeah Miyako. I know I told you when I met you yesterday that you should be checking in with your teammates all the time, especially if you're confused or have questions. Why didn't you do that?"

Miyako's eyes started welling up. "Pete told me that he wanted to know what was going on in the house. He say 'Tell me if anybody, especially veteran staff like Stokie Jaye do anything might be wrong.' So I tell him and he say Stokie might get fired."

I could have murdered Pete Post right then and there. "So Pete, what I'm hearing is that you're hiring new staff to be your spies so that you can try to fire veteran staff like me. Do you have any idea how fucked-up that is? You Admins keep talking about supporting us and then you go and do something like this? You all are just talking out of your assholes."

Pete responded, "I assure you, cursing at me is not going to help you explain any possible illegal behavior."

"Oh yeah. Miyako, can you remind me what illegal behavior I engaged in?"

Miyako was silent for a moment. Then she burst into tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know! Not sure, not sure."

Pete said, "Miyako, you told me that Stokie picked up Brian by himself and threw him into the Quiet Room. Isn't that what you saw?"

Miyako said through sobs, "Not sure, not sure."

Yolanda said, "Sounds like she's not sure, Pete. And Stokie? Do you remember what happened now?"

"Yes, Yolanda. As I walked toward Brian, he did a backward sommersault into the Quiet Room. I just shut the door because he was being assaultive to Miyako by spitting on her. She just sat there and took it, too." I turned to Pete, "I wonder where she learned that?"

Miyako got up and ran out. This was the last time any of us saw her as she faxed in her letter of resignation the next day.

Yolanda said, "Pete, I think it's time for you to get out of my office, you aren't making any friends right now."

Pete got up to leave and said to me, "There's too much hands on going on in this house. And another thing, you better think twice before you lie to me again." With that he left the house.

I got up to leave too. I said to Yolanda, "You need to do your own dirty work. I got Admin stink all over me and almost lost my job for it."

Masters, Part 3

I didn't really think about my intervention with Brian and Miyako after that. There was a staff meeting to get prepared for, kids to be taken to school and a house to get cleaned up. I told Mel that I would drive the kids down to school, he would get the last bits of the house cleaned up, and Miyako? I told Miyako that she could work on her incident report regarding Brian.

As for me, I liked to take my time getting back to the house after I dropped the kids off at school, and for a couple of reasons. Many of the school staff are my old friends. Most of them used to be counselors just like me but got sick of the low pay and administrative bullshit that goes with this job. (Little did they know that the School Counselor's job came with its own brand of low pay and bullshit.) The fact of the matter is, there is an "us against them" mentality that affects both staffs.

It goes like this:

The House staff knows best because we are on the front lines and are experts on the kids' behavior. We know all their interpersonal dynamics, from peer interaction to family abuse. What these kids really need is tough behavior modification because nobody ever took the time to teach these kids discipline.

vs.

The School staff knows best because they are on the front lines of the kids' educational development. Kids' misbehavior can be traced to obvious learning disabilities. What these kids really need are chances, because nobody ever gave them one when they really needed it.

I have seen many House staff switch jobs and seemingly overnight, treat me like I was the enemy, like my ideas were crazy. I have also seen School staff come and work up at the houses and behave similarly to their ex-mates. The truth is, the Administrative staffs of both organizations hold each other in contempt. This attitude naturally trickles down to the front line staff who take it out on each other. I like to hang around the School staff for a while to get a sense of what is going on down at the school, what the staff are thinking and doing with the kids.

As I walked the kids to their classrooms, I spent a couple of minutes checking in with the teachers and the teachers' aides before I walked on down to the counselor's office. By the time I got there, fat-ass Rusty was already in trouble, huffing and puffing about some injustice his teacher had perpetrated against him. He was talking to Jamaal, an ex-counselor who had about as much experience as me, someone I respect, and a guy who also sees that so much of our jobs rest on the exercise of ridiculousness.

Jamaal says to Rusty, "Now Rusty, just because your teacher is a fucking bitch doesn't mean you can't stay in school."

"Well that's what she is, and she knows it," puffs Rusty.

"Well, yeah, she definitely knows it now that you screamed it to her in class..."

"Oh no! You're definitely coming back up to the house and you're gonna get tons of consequences," I say, "Let's go."

Jamaal winks at me. "Oh my gosh, did you hear that? That's Stokie Jaye talking, he don't mess around. You know why? Cuz he's old and crusty..."

"That's right, Jamaal knows, too. I was already this way when me and him built this school 30 years ago, back in our hippie days. Jamaal had an afro out to here and I had long hair, a beard and long robe, lotta people mistook me for Jesus, right Jamaal?"

"Mmm, hmm."

Rusty perked up. "You guys built this school?"

Jamaal said, "In fact, back then Stokie's rap name was 'Stokie JJ Hippie Jeeze' becuase he looked so much like Jesus."

I said, "But everybody knows Jesus was a black man."

Jamaal's cheeks were puffy, suppressing laughter. "I wouldn't want to be up in the house with him. If I were you, I'd rather apologize to your teacher and stay down here..."

"Here it comes," I said.

"...Now I'm gonna give you just one more chance..."

I started out the door. "Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Jaye," said Jamaal.

"As always. Let me know when his thirty last chances run out, I'll be back down to pick him up."

By the time I had returned to the house, I was about a half an hour late for the staff meeting. As I entered, I noticed that the chemicals were still really strong, even with the fan on. Around the table sat 5 counselors, the House Supervisor Yolanda, the therapist Sam, and Mel, who was giggling and pointing at Miyako. Miyako held a paper towel over her mouth and nose and was sitting next to the laundry room door, which was slightly open. (I assumed correctly that Mel's magic potion sat bubbling behind the door.) Also in attendance was Janette Stankin, the Clinical Supervisor. I couldn't tell which was worse; Mel's cleaning potion or Janette's perfume. Whenever she walked into a room, it seemed like you were being smashed over the head with a bottle of Chanel #5. I felt like asking Miyako if I could borrow her paper towel.

Yolanda said to me as I found a seat next to Mel, "Lots of kids in crisis at school, I guess."

"Oh, always. Lucky thing I was there."

She said, "Just to catch you up, we were just talking about Michael and some of the frustrations we feel."

"Oh, okay. Did we already talk about 'warehousing?'"

My comment hit its target squarely as Janette visibly tensed up.

"Well, no, nobody actually used that term. Maybe there's something you'd like to say about it?"

I said, "Okay. Well it just seems to me that we've done about all we can with Michael. We are not equipped to deal with developmental disabilities; we deal with emotional problems. He needs to go to a facility like the Regional Center that deals with DD. In the mean time, he gets bigger and stronger, has more sex with his peers and assaults more staff. And since he can't understand our program, we just wind up appeasing him all the time so he doesn't get mad." I turned to Janette, "And I guess since his county just keeps paying, we just take the money and store him here, like a warehouse."

Mel elbowed me, trying to make me laugh at Miyako. Janette was mad at me.

"Stokie, you know very well that we've been trying to get Michael to the Regional Center for months. They just won't take him because he's not developmentally disabled enough. They just turned down our most recent application. His social worker is happy with the job we're doing with him and is satisfied that Michael is placed well here."

I said, "So as long as the county is paying, we're happy to let him get bigger, have sex and hit people. Okay, I just wanted to be able to tow the company line."

"You sound so bitter," said Janette.

"Yup, that's me, Mr. Bitter. I should probably be more happy about warehousing kids. You know what? I can be happier! Is this a bad time to ask for a raise? I figure with all that money we're getting from the county, we could all be getting paid more. May my teammates and I please all have raises?"

Janette got up to leave. "Yolanda, thank you for your time and good luck with your staff."

I turned to my teammates, "Sorry guys, I gave it my all."

Miyako also got up and quickly shuffled outside for some air. As the meeting broke up, I went in to the laundry room with Mel.

"Mel, what the fuck is in this shit?" Mel was still giggling as he opened the chemical closet.

"Man, I just threw in everything," he said as he took out bottles of cleaner and put them on the washing machine. "Little of this, little of that."

I looked at the cleaners. Ajax, Simple Green, bleach, Windex, Pine-Sol, Mr. Clean with ammonia...

My jaw dropped. "Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you? This shit can kill you! Didn't you read the label?" I realized what a stupid question that was, of course he didn't read the fucking label. "Mel, dude, if you mix bleach and ammonia it makes a poisonous gas that kills people. For real, it kills people."

"How the fuck I'm supposed to know that? All the labels are in Spanish."

"That's so people's cleaning ladies don't die when they clean their house." I dumped the potion out through the back door. "Course, if you killed Miyako, that woulda made Yolanda's day. God damn, Mel!"

I came back into the kitchen and there, standing with Miyako, was Pete Post. He had three circle shaped Band-Aids stuck on his face where he shaved over his adult acne.

"Greetings, Stokie. It seems as though there was an intervention this morning which involved you and Brian. Apparently, some questionable techniques were used. I would like you to accompany me so that I may glean some more information."

As I walked with Pete to the Supervisor's office, I thought to myself, "If I still have a job when this shit is over, I'm gonna kill that Miyako. This is what I get for trying to help."

Masters, Part I

I pulled into the parking lot at 6am ready to start my shift as usual. It was Tuesday morning, so that means we'll have staff meeting after we've gotten the boys up and off to school. So my mind set was on getting the boys up in a positive frame of mind so that we don't have any up at the house to distract us during the meeting, and also on doing a quick cleaning job so that whatever admin staff comes up to join us, as well as any random social workers or lawyers won't think we're running an institutional pig sty.

I also like Tuesday mornings because I work with my buddy Mel, the next most senior staff member on the team. Mel has been around for about 3 years and is fun and easy to work with. Although I'd been here now for 11 years, it's still refreshing to start a shift with someone who has more than a few months' experience. He sets clear limits but also is able to enjoy himself around the kids and has a great sense of humor. So I was thinking that this would be a nice, easy morning.

Then I saw our house supervisor, Yolanda's car in front of the house. Damn! She's not supposed to be in until 8. The only reason she'd be here is because something is wrong. Maybe a kid needs to be hospitalized. Maybe Mel called in sick.

I walked in the house and was greeted by both Yolanda and Mel.

"What happened this time?" I asked.

"I just wanted to talk to you and Mel before the shift got started," said Yolanda. "It's important."

Aww, man. What did I do this time? I wondered. As we walked into her office, I quickly ran down any events of the last week that she might want to confront us about. Was it about sticking a push pin into the Quiet Room lock so that it sticks in the locked position? I really needed to walk out into the kitchen and eat my dinner while Brian was blowing out because he didn't like his mom's new girlfriend. Was it about giving fat-ass Rusty a plate of grapes for dinner while everyone else ate lasagna? Is it because I told Freddy, the sexual predator that his therapist, Sam was a "fucking moron" for letting Freddy bring up Macy's underwear ads to the house so that Freddy might "relieve all the pressure?" Whatever it was, I was in no mood to come up with creative explanations before I've had my coffee.

We all took a seat in Yolanda's office.

"I just wanted to talk to you guys before the day got going because you two are my most experienced staff and I need your help. You worked with that new Japanese chick yesterday, right? The one who did her observation, Myako? What did you think about her?"

I said, "Yeah, she was pretty meek. She's obviously one of those career students who thinks this experience will look good on her resume while she goes after her Master's. Completely misplaced. Maybe she'd do well with really young kids, but not here. Just the language barrier alone is enough to keep her from understanding what's going on here."

Mel piped in, "Oh, fo' sho'. On top of that, didn't nobody could understand what the fuck she be sayin'."

"That's what I thought too," said Yolanda. "But now we got Pete Post's stupid ass advocating for her to work here. He says we get some kind of state credit for having someone with a Master's degree working here and he won't listen to me when I tell him she's gonna wind up getting hurt, or getting someone else hurt. Plus, I'm not gonna go outta my way to change everything for her cuz she got some kind of 'chemical sensitivity.' Bitch has some kind of allergic reaction to chemicals and I ain't gonna change the way we clean the house just because of her. We gonna just have to change back soon as she quits anyways. I'm sick and tired of Pete Post trying to override everything cuz he got some kinda crush on some Asian bitch."

I was perplexed. "But...I thought he was doing Janette Stankin."

"He still is. But you know how you white boys are about Asian chicks."

"Right you are, Yolanda. I almost went against my own race."

Yolanda said, "Anyway, Pete Post fuckin went and hired her on the spot yesterday after her observation. She comes in this morning at 6:30"

Mel was incredulous. "The fuck? What? Hired her for our house? Aww, hell no!"

I just shook my head. "Dude..."

"That's why I want to talk to you two," said Yolanda. "I'm not saying to do nothing abusive, but you know it's not easy for new people to fit right in. I want her to know that she's new, this is a hard job, and she's not gonna fit right in, if ever. Know what I'm saying?"

Mel and I looked at each other. We looked at Yolanda. We understood.

Yolanda got up to leave. "Now I'm not saying for you to be abusive..." She left the room.

"Damn!" said Mel. I didn't never think I'd see Yolanda that upset. Guess I better start cleaning the house."

I nodded. "You know Pete Post doesn't know shit about support. I think once you get promoted to Admin, they stick a 'Fuck Your Staff' chip in your neck and let you run wild. I better get up Brian so he can work off some of those work detail consequences he earned last night."

Guru Lets Me In on a Joke

I pride myself on being able to get along with many different types of people, but I have to say getting along with Guru has been challenging from the very beginning. He has this very strange, "salt of the Earth" aura about him. He seems angry when he's not. He always wears sunglasses, even indoors. He yells, or slams down his hand on a table to begin a statement, then whispers the rest. The kids are both afraid of him and attracted to his mystical weirdness.

Guru taught me the expression "tip the house." If, say 4 or 5 kids are having tantrums at the same time, Guru would shout out, "Tip the house!" We would then know to bring all those kids into the Quiet Room together, as if we were tilting the house to one corner and the kids were marbles rolling into the Quiet Room, They would then receive the Guru treatment, which is about 2 hours of a silent Guru just staring as the kids would go through stages of yelling, fighting, and begging to come out and finally asking Guru if there was any way they could make up for their behavior as long as they could come out and relieve their overwhelming boredom.

Once, Guru was sitting with a few kids in the Quiet Room and I went to check in on him. I opened the door and found all the kids screaming and cussing at a seemingly oblivious Guru. Guru was wearing his "denim armor:" jean pants, denim longsleeve shirt, denim jacket, heavy black boots and a beanie cap.

I said, "Guru aren't you a little warm in here? Do you want to take a break?"

He exploded, "I LIKE IT HOT!" and then whispered, "No breaks. The only way to know what you're dealing with is when the kids are hot. It's the most productive part of the day. NO BREAKS!" and he just stared at me, or through me, from behind his sunglasses.

At the time I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but now, years of experience later, I do. For the most part, the kids repeat abusive behaviors that have been perpetrated on them, so when they have tantrums, or act out, it is usually a reflection of their previous abuse. When kids are "hot," the experienced counselor may realize that the kid is telling a story, in a strange way, of his life. He is letting you see the core of his turmoil.

It was a particularly "hot" time for a lot of boys across campus, so there was a lot of extra staff on hand to help out with the many outbreaks and eruptions of anger and violence. There were even a few administrators making the rounds, checking in and helping out. On this particular afternoon, Pete Post had dropped in and, since we had become "buddies" at the job fair, had decided to hang around with me as I prepared the boys a snack of chocolate pudding. Most of the boys were standing around the kitchen counter waiting as Pete Post was casually conversing with me.

"I think, to a large extent, that these fellows would respond in a much more healthy way during crises if their caretakers would display care and respect to them. Specifically, why do we put hands on, restrain and hold the kids down in order to teach them that fighting is wrong? Aren't we just perpetuating a cycle? These boys aren't unintelligent and if approached with intelligent and caring adults, they will respond in kind."

I said, "Okay Pete, but how long will the learning period be before the kids realize you are showing respect? Because that's the length of time that staff is going to be risking injury." I grabbed a banana. "Here, hand this to Richard."

Pete handed the banana to Richard. Richard was incredulous. "Why I gotta eat this? Gimme some pudding."

I said to Richard, "You know you have a week of snack restriction for stealing that box of Klondike bars and hiding them in your laundry basket."

Richard yelled at me, "I told you I didn't do that. My roommate set me up!"

"Next time you steal ice cream, eat it before it melts. That way next time staff does your laundry, we can't catch you with melted ice cream all over your clothes."

Richard exploded, "All y'all staff be lying bitches. I'monna hoo-ride this banana upside yo head, mutha-fucka!"

He was approaching Pete, banana held high. The rest of the boys quickly grabbed their puddings and got out of the way.

Pete said to Richard, "I think even you could agree that I cannot be the target of your ire."

Richard was about to hit Pete with the banana when, with a swiftness not seen in such big men, Guru appeared behind Richard and grabbed him by the arms.

"Not on my shift, not today." He looked at Pete. "Supervisor's office."

Pete followed Guru and Richard, who was flailing and trying to kick Guru, into the supervisor's office and shut the door.

One of the boys, Brian, said to me, "Stokie, have you ever been assaulted by a banana?"

Freddie, the sexual predator yelled from his permanent station, the living room table, "Whoa guy!"

Brian mumbled under his breath, "You fuckin' faggot, I didn't mean it like that."

I heard the door of the supervisor's office open up. It was Guru. He clapped his hands once, with surprising volume. "MR. JAYE!" He then spoke very softly, "I need some help with a problem. Can you assist me in here?"

I thought that they needed more help in restraining Richard, after all he was a pretty big kid. I ran over to Guru. "Let's go," I said as I opened the door and walked in.

I saw Pete Post and Richard both sitting on the couch. Pete sat with his legs folded with a smug, half-grin on his face. Richard was livid, red with anger. He had squashed the banana in his hands and had banana bits all over his hands and arms. He was yelling at Pete Post, "I'monna fuck you up bitch!" He hawked a loogie and spat in Pete's face.

I stepped forward in anticipation of Guru and I taking Richard and placing him in a prone restraint on the floor.
Just as soon as I moved, I heard Guru from behind me, "UH-UH. Come here."

He was in his familiar squat position. I was confused as to why Guru seemed uninterested in Richard's violence toward Pete. I though he liked it hot. I stepped over to him and turned to look at Richard and Pete Post.

Pete said to Richard, "You see Richard, I realize that you aren't really angry at me, are you?"

Richard scooped some banana bits from his arm and flung it into Pete's hair.

"I respect the fact that you are angry, however, spitting and throwing fruit at me will not address the issue."

Richard hawked another loogie and spat at Pete. It landed on Pete's purple, knit 80's tie.

"What I'm hearing you say is that you don't want a banana for snack." Richard spat at Pete, hitting him in the face.

"I hear your anger, Richard, and I respect it."

Hawk, ptew. Another face shot.

"This is no way to engage an adult, Richard. Now spit and banana can wash off easily. What's more important is that you know I care about you."

I said quietly, "What the fuck...?" I looked down at Guru who stared blankly at the proceedings. I looked at Pete Post who was being covered in spit and banana bits. I slowly squatted down with Guru. I whispered, "Looks like our hands-off approach still has a few bugs to be worked out."

Guru said, "You've already spent too much time off the floor. You got important things to do. Please inform our teammates that Pete Post is leading a seminar on the hands-off approach in here. I'm sure they would appreciate the education if you would ask them to rotate in here."

"It would be less than supportive of me to block our teammates from a teachable moment. I'll let them know right now."

It was a rare moment when I was able to appreciate Guru's subtle display of charm.

The Beginning of the End, part 3

After that fated in-service, we all made our way back up to our respective units to resume our staff meetings. Echoing in all our heads were Mr. Brayhill's final words, "Typical group home bullshit," which made us realize that neither the group homes nor their employees were anywhere near the Administration's top priorities.

As we settled into our seats, our unit's House Supervisor, Yolanda said, "So, someone from the Administration is supposed to come up and join us to help us talk about our feelings regarding the cuts in benefits. I think it's Pete Post who's coming to join us."

Gus said, "Talk about our feelings? What does that mean? Does that mean we get any say in the budget cuts?"

"No, said Yolanda. "All that's a done deal."

"Is anything we say gonna make any difference at all in the decision making process?"

"No."

"Then can we tell him to kiss our black asses and get the hell outta here? I mean, we got important work to do and he wants to come up here and waste our time talking bout, 'Oh you gotta talk about your feelings.' What the fuck for, they don't give a shit anyway."

"Well, you can tell him to kiss your ass if you want, that's what everyone's thinking anyway."

Pete Post was walking down the path to our unit. Pete Post is now in charge of hiring and training new staff. He's a youngish guy, about 26. His typical work outfit, and this day was no different, is this: a blue or purple longsleeve button down shirt with a purple, squared off, knit cotton tie from the early 80's, tight black jeans hiked up above his navel and revealing his black socks, and black Converse lowtops. Ever since he started doing the Clinical Director, Janette Stankin, his ass and his waistline has been expanding. (Janette is known for her wonderful cheesecakes, and from the looks of things, Pete has indulged in more than a few.) Still, Pete wears the same pants as he did 5 years ago, so as his waist expands, his pants get tighter and higher. He is, in fact, working on his own male cameltoe. He can be seen during the lunch hour walking up and down our expansive driveway either talking or singing to himself, eyes barely open, with a half grin on his face. He has a way of talking to people which at once confuses them and also places him on the technical crew of his high school drama department, the kind of guy who probably repeated Monty Python skits ad nauseum in a bad British accent. In other words, Pete Post is a top-tier dweeb. He sat down with us and began.

"May I assume that there is a general feeling of negativity, which although understandable, and yet in my opinion possible to overcome, is pervasive, something to which the present company all subscribe?" He had is elbows on the table, tapping his fingertips together in a show of thoughtfulness.

Gus turned to me. "The fuck he say?"

Now I suppose one of the things that makes me a good counselor is my ability to understand many different forms of communication. I'm able to easily relate to many different types of people, from the MIT computer nerd to the hardened ghetto dweller.

I said, "He's asking if everybody thinks the Administration is fucking us over."

"Tell him we said, 'Hell yes.'"

Pete went on. "These current changes are indeed lamentable, however, there are other program adjustments to which we can look forward in a positive light. I am referring to my own personal philosophy that the last thing our charges need is for us to repeat the abusive patterns to which they may account their tenure here. I, and a few other administrators are excited at the prospect of creating a program in which we no longer put hands on the kids unless it is an absolute necessity. Imagine the increased amount of respect the children would ascribe to us under such a program adjustment."

Yolanda was irritated. "Pete, you been talking about that for a year now, don't no one agree with you and I'll be damned if anyone in this room agrees with you now. If you want to make some positive changes, you should think about how you gonna recruit some staff members who are gonna stay long enough to learn the job and earn the kids' trust. I don't know where you be pickin up these new staff, but some don't even speak English well enough to talk to the kids, some don't seem to be trained to know when it's time to put hands on. That's one of the reasons staff be getting hurt on the job. Sometimes I think you be telling new staff to never put hands on, and putting us veteran staff in danger when you know some new staff not gonna help you out when things get physical."

Pete said, "My usual mantra regarding that kind of statement bears repeating, I think. And that is: I am always open to suggestions and ideas when it comes to recruiting new staff."

I felt compelled to add my two cents. "Dude, do you ever go to those college job fairs? I'm sure you could find some competent psychology majors who could help us out. I live right near the University. I could totally help out and post some flyers or whatever."

I thought I saw Pete's goofy grin turn into an almost wry smile. "Thank you Stokie, I'm glad you said that. There is a job fair going on this Thursday at the University. Of course I would be happy to accept your help and invite you to put your money where your mouth is and accompany me there. If memory serves, this will not interfere with your work schedule."

I looked around the table. Everyone was nodding and grinning at me, knowing I had opened my big mouth once again.

Gus turned to me again, "Now what?"

I said, "I'm going to a job fair with Pete Post."

Gus just chuckled and shook his head.

Two days later, there I was sitting at a booth with Pete Post at the University's job fair. The administration had hired a professional photographer a couple of years ago so that we could have nice pictures of our kids looking appropriately cute and needy in a display for recruiting purposes. We had those photos displayed along with a big banner with the organizations name on it. There were a lot of students there looking for jobs and I felt really hopeful and upbeat about our chances.

As each student walked by our booth, Pete Post would be tapping his fingers together in his display of thoughtfulness and say, "Greetings, for what are you seeking?"

I sat and watched as each student would furrow their brows and keep walking. Still, each time someone walked up to us Pete would repeat, "Greetings, for what are you seeking?"

"Greetings, for what are you seeking?"

I thought, 'Jesus Christ, no fucking wonder.' Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. I said to Pete, "Dude, is that what you always say to people? You know, not everyone talks like that."

A student walked up. I said, "Hi, do you like working with kids? You might enjoy finding out about our program, here's our brochure, blah, blah, blah..."

Pete said to me, "This is an activity to which you seem well-suited."

"Yeah, well I'm also well-suited to having a few beers when this is over."

"Agreed. I would second that prospect and would enjoy sharing the experience with you."

"Dude, I didn't say you were coming with me. Now repeat after me, 'Hi, do you like working with kids?'"