I was was making enchiladas the other day when my cell phone rang. I answered, hoping to hear about a job, but instead I was disappointed. And, it should come as no surprise that the source of this disappointment was my law school.
"Hi, Mr. [Mike]," a bubbly voice greeted me. "My name is Sarah and I am a freshman here at the University of ________, and I am calling on behalf of the University of _______ School of Law Alumni Association. How are you this evening?"
"A little bit disappointed," I said.
"Excuse me?"
"Never mind, what can I do for you?" (Knowing full well she wanted money.)
After getting my new address, the conversation changed abruptly. "So,when was the last time you visited the law school?" she asked. The question sounded rehearsed, and all the stranger coming from her bouncy, high pitched sorority voice.
"The last time I was at the school was the day I turned in my final take home exam," I said flatly.
"Oh okay…", she said. My caustic answer seemed to throw her off. "Well, are there any fond memories of law school you'd like to share for the alumni newsletter?," she inquired.
"Sure," I said, laughing. "The last day of school when I turned in my final take home exam, that was the best day of law school ever."
Sarah started giggling, and continued to do so throughout the next question. "So what are you up to these days?"
"Makin' enchiladas. Want to come over for dinner?"
"Hehehe...No, I meant career wise." Her giggling was getting out of hand.
"Still looking," I told her, not wanting to explain my job hunting situation to a giggly 18 year old.
"Okay, well, the reason for this call is…"
Here we go: She went into a long, choppy spiel about the law school, and new features it has added, and efforts to raise it's profile, etc., all stuff I knew to be just lip service. The proposed changes meant virtually nothing in reality to any current or future students. So when she finished, and asked for $150, I was ready.
"Sarah, here's the thing; as we just discussed, I don't have a job yet, so I don't have an extra $150 sitting around to donate. Why don't you call me in a few months, when I will have a job and presumably some extra cash, so when I decline to donate, I can actually look at the extra $150 I have and decide I'd rather waste it on something else."
There was another pause. I was afraid I had offended her. But, she burst out laughing. "You're much more entertaining than the other law school alums I call all night", she said.
"Sarah, you don't know the half of it."
