Work

It was warm when I woke up this morning, 70 degrees, and the sun hadn't yet come up. Not hot by southern standards, but hot enough for me. I showered, made coffee for myself, caught up with all the best in celebrity and fashion gossip the Internet has to offer, then headed off to work.

I work in one of those Georgian-style brick buildings that oozes Ivy-league charm; a deliberate strategy to pander to the Ivy-league aspirations for the monied, but less accomplished, less-than-Ivy-league-caliber students that represent the school's demographic. The building perhaps once housed the gracious offices of college deans, host to genteel gatherings; modern renovations -- drop ceilings, fluorescent lights, cubicle dividers, and linoleum floors -- have undercut that historic graciousness. On the other hand, I'm pretty certain that nobody has updated the plumbing (or air conditioning) since maybe a WPA project in the late 30s.

Despite the lack of amenites -- and I actually like the lack of any effective air conditioning -- I like my job just fine. Given how hard it is to find any job these day, I'm more than content: I show up every day at 7:45 and stay as late as they need me. At the office, I try to be pleasant and cordial, willing to take on extra projects, even fun to work with, and so far I've kept my job where others have fallen. Of course, I'm not paid much over minimum wage, either, so that might have something to do with it, too.

My boss is great, an alumni from the college, just a few years older than I; an English major who had to stay around in town while her husband finished his MBA. She's every bit as nice as you would expect from someone who routinely asks people to donate as much money as they possibly can. She also recognizes when I've been putting in unpaid overtime, lets me off early on slow Friday afternoons, never glares at me when I take a long lunch hour, sometimes suggests that maybe I've earned an extra vacation day. Overall, a decent human being. Her boss, however? A childishly charming , temper-tantrum throwing nightmare. If I ever have to work for him

I started here as a student, helping with mailings and routine clerical tasks: lots of time at the copy machine. When I returned after my father's accident, not quite ready to return to classes, the department admin had moved away, so they offered me her job. Mostly it involves making lots of travel arrangements and keeping track of expenses, none of it a big deal. I have learned to be more detail-oriented, though. Even though I find hotels via the Internet, I always make a point to talk personally with hotel staff before making recommendations, ask how the weather's been, make sure the pool is still usable, that there's convenient parking, that their alcohol license hasn't been recently revoked. If you don't ask, you might be surprised. Usually unpleasantly.

Today, though, they had me doing something relatively new: researching potential donors. You'd be amazed, or at least I was, by the amount of information the alumni office keeps on its former students: from the college applications they submitted, their academic records, records of every phone call they've ever had with you, every mention of every family member, every interest, every positive/negative association with the college -- they know it all. They have your social security number. They know the graduate degrees you've accumulated, the jobs you've held, the homes you bought. It all adds up to some idea of how much money they might be able to get from you.

My job is to sort through all the information, highlight the possibilities -- the promotion, the move to a better zip code, the possible sources of goodwill toward the college -- and the challenges: any negative comments about the college, bad experiences. Also very important: any recent deaths, divorces, job losses, or serious accidents or illnesses. Not that these may be cause to defer a call -- I was surprised to learn that a recent death or serious illness might even be a reason for a solicitation -- but that they will certainly inform the approach that the caller will take. So I live and learn. An interesting day.

But I'm not sure that I want to retire from the department, if you know what I mean.