Get ready for one of the strangest tales from this court, or in my history for that matter. I was four hours late for work, because I took the time to deliver a stern lecture to somebody who I owe nothing and have little in common. I saw the need for the talk via parallels in my own life. I’m saying I wish somebody had done the same for me.It was Mr. Muscles. There was a time we argued over prices before he found out I was the owner of the equipment. He is off to college this Saturday to make something of himself. That is where our lives crossed for an instant. I saw that he was heading for something that nobody had prepared him for, nobody had given him honest answers about what to expect, what to look out for, what to insist upon. That’s where the similarity stops. I was 17, broke, no job experience, and with a family eager to gloat when I failed. Mr. Muscles is black, 31, ex-army, and driving his own car to a Dakota campus on the G.I. Bill and Pell Grants.
But like myself, he had no idea what he would find when he got there. By remembering my own disadvantages, I was able to give him the very advice I missed. I cannot relate everything, but I explained to him how to get real guidance out of college counselors whose hidden motive was to upsell him [more student loans]. I told him how to take the difficult courses first (if possible) and how to ensure at each stage if he dropped out he could find work without the full degree. And that his life would be changed forever--even if he did not graduate.
He was completely unaware, as I was [myself at the time], that his time in college would be his best and worst years. That he was likely going to meet the girl he would marry there, and certainly most of the professionals he would associate with the remainder of his life. I explained how to choose an employer that would ensure promotions instead of like myself, being forced to take the highest paying job available. How to prevent being railroaded into middle-management, how to pass useless courses, the reason to make friends with one rich kid, where to get good summer work experience, I covered most of the parts nobody will tell you.
I described the temptations he would face, being surrounded by rich kids who went to Hawaii on long weekends, while he could very well be the one [who had] to stockpile cafeteria buns in his residence room when he and the janitor were the only people on campus during Spring break. How he might be the only one not driving a sports car and to apply for every scholarship in the book, even if they turned him down. They might know somebody. And what to do to get an overseas job once he got out.
As I said, the very advice I wish somebody had given me. Had I known that such advice even existed, I would have paid a million for it. By the time I figured it out on my own, my youth was gone. I saw that Mr. Muscles was angry with the world, and so was I back then. I was angry at my parents for lying to me, at the law system for letting them get away with it, and the rest of the world for allowing that system to exist. My one role model was an itinerant Tenth Grade social studies teacher at the Catholic school, Mr. Ian James. I doubt he knew how influential he was [in my life], for in that small town, asking anyone [outside of family] for advice was the equivalent of calling down your own parents. Mine would surely have found out had I been asking questions to anyone but a school teacher.
There is no such thing as a stupid question. Only stupid answers. I hope I helped somebody spot the difference today.
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