The Breakfast Schlub
This morning on the train, five “kids” who recently started
jobs in the city found their way to my car. I give them credit.
They were all able to find jobs not too long after earning their degrees…especially
in this economy. I give them even
more credit since they already showed some train etiquette. Before “quiet time” on the train, I got
to hear their excitement, their energy, their optimism. It made me realize I have lost all of
mine. It did make me recall, of
course, a time when I shared the same feelings these five had. It was my first real cooperative job at
Drexel.
Drexel University is broken down to four quarters that
coincide with the seasons. Starting in year two, classes
and cooperative work are separated into two quarters each – either
Winter/Spring or Summer/Fall. Most
students preferred to work during the Summer/Fall period. Who wouldn’t? Did anyone really want to go to class and study in the summer? For me it was that, PLUS who wanted to
go to class and study during football season! College had already put a crimp in my gridiron gazing my
freshman year (see blog). I did
not want history to repeat itself. It was now my sophomore year at Drexel and the springtime semester was
screaming to a close. I needed to
get a co-op job soon so I could fall into the Summer/Fall work schedule. Today, Drexel’s co-op program works
very similar to real life. Jobs
are posted in the classified section of Drexel’s newspaper or they are posted
online on Drexel's website. They list the student’s
requirements and you then send them a resume and cover letter. If you are accepted, you are called for
an interview. In my day the reality was a bit
different. We had a Cooperative Counselor. He was much like a guidance
counselor…but even worse (once again, see previous blog). Unless you were an A+ student, a legacy
or your parents donated to the University…he had no time for you. Not falling into any of those
categories, I knew I had a challenge ahead of me.
I tried for a few weeks to get an appointment. I either dropped by his office or
called by phone…but I was thwarted with his busy schedule. I kept leaving messages, “Tell him
Michael Walsh needs to speak with him.”
He would never get back to me.
Finally, on one office visit attempt, fate intervened. I entered to find a different secretary
manning the gate. She asked if she
could help me. I just told her I
was his next appointment. After a
few minutes a student exited and I was told I could go in. I entered to find Dean Wormer's twin behind the desk. This co-op commander stood up and firmly shook my hand and
said, “Hello, Mr. Lowenstein”. I
informed him I was “Mr. Walsh”.
Too late for him, I was in the inner sanctum. He poked his head out his door to see no other student in
the waiting room, so he had no choice but to deal with me. He begrudgingly gave in and called up
my transcript. This did not help
his demeanor. “Mr. Walsh, we can
only place top students, maybe you want to wait until the Winter/Spring
cycle.” I knew this was B.S. But one does not get this far without a
plan…and I had an ace in the hole. All along I knew if I were ever able to meet with him, he
would never help. As stated
before, that was reserved for the special few. Luckily, I had learned from the upperclassman that the
Philadelphia Naval Shipyard took several Drexel co-ops each year. I also learned that no student wanted to
take those positions. Who wanted to work there!
Aspiring college students wanted to be in office buildings and Fortune
500 companies. They want to wear
suites and have martini lunches.
They want secretaries and water cooler gossip. I wanted airplanes and ships. Working at the navy yard among our countries war machines
would be a dream come true.
Mr. Co-op finished his dismissiveness with a “There is
nothing I can do for you.” I got
up to leave and I could see the relief on his face. I headed towards his door, hesitated, turned around and did
my best Columbo….”Oh, just one more thing…”. It was time to turn my hole card over. I told him I had heard there are co-op
openings at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard. His eyes lit up.
“You WANT to work at the shipyard?” I nodded yes. He
immediately picked up his phone and told me to hold on. He called his contact at the navy
yard. He asked if they had filled
all the openings, knowing full well they hadn’t. He informed them he had someone here who was
interested. After a few back and forth’s
he placed his hand over the receiver.
“Can you be there tomorrow at 8am?” I nodded yes once again.
I left satisfied I had outdueled the master. But I left with little information. I did however have an address and a
time, which is more than he ever thought he would have given me. He never mentioned if this was an
interview, or if he had already placed me at the job. I was hesitant to ask since I did not want him to retract
his offer. To be on the safe side,
I borrowed a suit from a friend who was currently on co-op. It was a size or two too large. I looked like, Honey, Who Shrunk the College
Student. A severely tightened belt
and an extra t-shirt underneath would have to do. Now I started to look more like the Michelin Man. That following morning I arrived on time and checked in with
the guard at the door. I was led
to a room to find four others already waiting. Under the assumption that this was an interview, I thought
this was my competition. I would
soon find out we were all in the same boat. No one had any idea.
Finally, someone official looking entered the room. He welcomed us to the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard and
gave us a packet of information.
It was at this point we all came to realize we already had the job. We had a stack of forms to fill out and
we were led to a small buffet. As
we bantered among the bagels, we seemed to be in our own version of the Breakfast
Club.
The movie had only recently been released and it quickly
became a cult classic. I couldn’t
help but notice the immediate similarities in my present situation. Especially when the navy yard
cooperative coordinator resembled Paul Gleason…right down to the Barry Manilow
wardrobe. While he fit the
classroom commandant perfectly, we however were a much different cast of
characters. Two other guys were
also from Drexel, but they couldn’t have been any more mismatched. One was a Guido from South Jersey, the
original incarnation of “The Situation”.
As my clothes were too loose, his were too tight. But my guess is he liked it that
way. The other guy, a Born Again
Christian. He was a buttoned up
Bible bearing neophyte. A third
guy was from Penn State (see yet another blog). He was the athlete, being a celebrated High School QB only a
few years earlier. Boisterous and bold,
his confidence was not lacking. Then,
there she was. A stunning buxom blond
beauty from Widener University.
She stuck out even further in the drabness of the battleship grey background. If you had added this character to the
script, no one would buy it. Yet
there she was. She was 21, a
woman, a full two years older than me.
It certainly showed. And
then there I was…Anthony Michael Hall.
Right down to the red hair.
The five of us would spend the next six months together.
The rest of that day we went through our orientation. We all looked forward to the opportunities
that lie ahead.
When there was the excitement, the energy, the optimism.
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