Help needed – Brad need not apply

So this is what it’s come to. LeBron James just took his talents to South Beach amid tons of hoopla and plenty of Benjamins. Me? I can’t even give mine away. How pathetic are you when someone doesn’t want you for free? I now feel like a dank ragged homeless man so desperate for work that I’ll rake your yard for free just on the vague hope that maybe there will be some lemonade coming later.

I volunteered to help a local high school’s debate team recently. When I emailed my credentials to their coach, she seemed so pleased that she emailed me to contact her immediately and I sat in on a practice that night. The next night I ran practice and she didn’t show up until pretty much the end of the session. You could tell that she was being run to death by her assignment and through no fault of anyone’s could really use some help.

When she showed up that second night, one of the girls said, “This is the first time that I’ve really understood this stuff. I was just brimming with pride after that. What a great complement to me, and the warm feeling you get when you hear that is why I was more than willing to donate as much of my time as I could to my new team of debaters.

That lasted about a day. Suddenly, the principal heard that a single, bald, slightly overweight Charlie Brown looking guy was intent on dallying with the speech team. She wanted to interview me and have me fingerprinted. Due diligence, I assumed. No problem.

How could they turn me down? My past is clean and my credentials were impeccable. She set the interview for 7 AM – ouch. Personally, that should have been the entire interview – “He’s here at 7 AM, you’re hired!”

Instead, the interview was oddly aggressive. It seemed that despite the school’s need for help (policy debate is filled with research and the need to practice plus pretty much every Saturday is a daylong commitment) she seemed vaguely hostile to the idea. I dressed up pretty nicely, I was early and then the onslaught began.

Principal: What do you think qualifies you for this?

Me: Well, in high school I was a member of the National Honor Society and a National Merit Scholar. In 1983, my partner and I won the State Championship and thus qualified for the National Tournament. I graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Northwestern with a 3.96 Grade Point Average. After my last debate, the coach of the University School team told me that I was the best debater that she had ever seen. I’m really good with kids and have been a camp counselor, a little league coach and a junior high school basketball coach.

Over the last 25 years, I’ve spent most of my life in the trading industry, but I’ve done teaching for every firm I’ve worked for. I’m looking to move into education, and I would really enjoy doing this and meeting the other teachers that are involved.”

This is going to sound arrogant. But to me this should have sounded like Vince Lombardi had retired and wanted to be a free assistant to your football team. If I’ve been Michael Jordan at anything in my life it’s teaching kids and debate. Just like basketball, debate has summer camp programs at prestigious universities around the country. I went three times – twice at the University of Kentucky and once at the University of Louisville. If this school had put out an ad offering to pay $50,000 to help this debate team they still wouldn’t have found someone as good as me. I will take that belief with me to the grave.

Principal: I used to coach softball. Tell me about your little league experience.

Me: I made sure that it was a great environment for the kids. I would make my batting orders at random or by asking the kids trivia questions so that everybody got a chance to be at the top of the order.

What a guy I am!

Everything I was asked, I gave my 100% heartfelt answers. I wanted the kids to win, but I most wanted them to debate properly and honorably and to get the most out of what I felt was a great activity.

Principal: Do you have any references?

Me: Sure, what are you looking for?

Principal: People who can attest that you are supposedly good with kids.

Wow, did that suddenly sound a little hostile?

As soon as I got home I emailed the principal my references along with a memory of how great I felt when my basketball team learned how to beat the full court press. I had thought that this interview was just a screening method and a formality. Boy was I about to be shocked.

An hour later I get this email.

Thank you for your time this morning. After further discussion with [the current coaches], I believe at this point we are not ready to commit to a full time volunteer position for our Speech/Debate team. Because of this, there is probably no reason for you to be fingerprinted at the Board of Education.

I wish you the best of luck as you settle back into life in Northeast Ohio.

The email was cc’d to five people. Two of which I had never even met.

I felt just like Tony Curtis when he gets punched in the stomach at the end of his Houdini bio (RIP Tony). What? Are you serious? Commitment? They could try me out for a week and then send me home if they wanted. The only one making a commitment would be me.

Could I really have come off so bad that she wouldn’t want to help her overworked people (both of whom told me that they supported bringing me on) for free from someone with impeccable credentials? Are 44 year old single men who want to help really THAT creepy to the average high school principal?

I texted the coach afterward, “What did I do wrong?” No response.

I was completely stunned. I’m suddenly so unwanted that I don’t even merit a reason for why I’m not good enough to give hundreds of hours of my free time to their school?

After about 4 hours of moping, I just had to know so I sent this email response to her.

Thanks for your consideration. I have to say that I’m a bit stunned. Is it an issue of you worried about liability with someone who is not a licensed teacher? I don’t really understand what kind of commitment you were referring to as I was more than willing do to literally as much or as little as desired and was willing to follow any strategy or desire of the existing coaches. I really feel that your kids would have benefited greatly from my experience and will be missing out.

Talked to my high school coach this afternoon and I suppose that I will help out University School instead.

If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you share the rationale behind your decision? Feel free to be as blunt as you need to be. Maybe you just didn’t like me, but something tells me that the decision had been made before I arrived extremely early this morning.

Ok, a bit smarmy, but nothing untrue.

She wrote back about an hour later.

The decision was not made before the interview. However, we were not actively seeking a volunteer and simply did not feel you were a good fit. Again, I wish you well.

Not a good fit? I’m Cinderella bring on the Prince and the damn slipper.

No, “We really want to thank you for offering”.

No, “We’ll give you a week or two and see how you do”.

Eventually, the debate coach answered a desperate email from me saying that she had wanted me but couldn’t go against the principal’s wishes.

It would be ok if the principal had said, “Look we just don’t want any outsiders among our children only licensed teachers.”

But she didn’t say that, “she said you were not a good fit?”

Hmm, they are shorthanded; I’m qualified, a nice guy, and offering – just how good of a fit did I need to be? Lots of employers give the “you weren’t a good fit response”. It’s a way of telling you absolutely nothing when you ask what their thinking was. Really, her sending me that famous Johnny Cash picture of him flipping the bird wouldn’t have been much different.

Industry Speak: You weren’t a good fit

Translation for those who don’t speak business: I said good day Sir, now go F*** yourself.

Bad debate judges are referred to as bus drivers, because often the bus driver is thrown into that position because there are no other volunteers!

Wow, I must be the creepiest man alive.

John F. Kennedy: Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country. Well, except Brad. Brad you’re not a good fit – have you checked out Eastern Europe?