All About Mentoring Spring 2011 - SUNY Empire State College

38
Starting with one he thought would be
relatively straightforward, Daniel recalled
a young couple, graduate students at the
university who had appeared at the agency
two days earlier. They were worried, though
not quite as lost or desperate as other clients
recently. Immediately, Daniel had liked
them, and was reminded of himself not that
many years ago. The young man said he was
a philosophy student at the university, the
young woman in anthropology. They had
little money and hoped the agency could
find them an inexpensive apartment.
“We’re both trying to get through graduate
school,” the young woman explained,
Daniel hearing nothing he hadn’t heard
often before. “We’ll take most anything
you have.”
“And then fix it up,” the philosophy
major said.
Calling for them, Daniel spoke to an
available landlord, a man who owned
a number of low-end buildings. “They
look like great young people,” he told the
landlord. “They can’t afford the dormitories
at the university and are willing to take
anything not too expensive.”
The landlord hesitated. It was as if he were
renting out luxury apartments. “Uhh …
you’re sure about these kids Sometimes
students will tear a place apart just for fun.
Or they think it’s a good, revolutionary act.”
“I’m sure,” Daniel said, dry. “Let them see
one of your places. You won’t be sorry.”
His next call was for an elderly Hispanic
couple. Their daughter had called and
then personally brought her parents to the
agency. She was a feisty girl. Her parents,
shy and tentative, smiled sweetly through
the interview.
“My parents are from San Salvador,” the
daughter told Daniel. “I am so excited
they’re here. It’s been years. I assured them
you could find a nice home for them.” Her
toughness softened, at least for the moment,
her worry manifesting itself.
“You can do that, can’t you” She leaned
forward. Suddenly, Daniel thought she, too,
might cry. “It doesn’t have to be the Taj
Mahal. Just something they could live in
close by. That would be wonderful.”
The young woman’s parents watched
Daniel closely, the old people already
grateful. My God, he thought, poetry
can be found anywhere.
“I’ll do my best,” he told them.
The second landlord was even more
troublesome than the first. Daniel had
worked with him several times before,
and after all the economy was in such bad
shape, and tough times would soon be
getting even tougher.
“Can they make the rent” the landlord
asked, challenging Daniel. “More than a
couple of my tenants have not been able to
recently. I’m a businessman after all.”
“Talk to them,” Daniel told him. “And the
daughter. I have a feeling she’d do anything
to help.”
“I’ll need two months up front, and
a security deposit. I can’t not do that
anymore.”
“Sure,” Daniel said.
The following call was the toughest. It
involved a daunting complaint, one familiar
enough to Daniel. The city wanted to
establish another residential home for
people with mental and social problems. But
Daniel talked as convincingly as he could
with the complainant and, finally, prevailed,
using all his experience and conviction to
placate the man for the time being. The man
was absolutely furious. Daniel imagined a
big, imposing person, in construction or
something.
He was beside himself.
“Look, I’ve heard you guys are going to put
one of those damn houses for crazy people
in my neighborhood,” he began. “Right
on my god damn street! Well, I’m telling
you you’re not going to get away with it. I
don’t care if the city or the state or the god
damned country is saying it’s okay. Not in
my neighborhood. I’m thinking of getting
all the neighbors to organize a protest. To
fight back!”
“Sir,” Daniel attempted to explain, the man
pausing, perhaps calmed a little, his protest
being made. “The group home is not a bad
thing. Do you have any experience with
them We have plenty of data we can show
you. I’ll give you the names and addresses of
other homes we have in the city.” He tried
to make himself as compelling as the man
was. “Go there and see for yourself. Have
the neighbors join you. And, by the way,
a few years ago, I lived only a few doors
away from a group home, with my wife
and children, and we never had any trouble
at all. I’m not sure we even saw any clients
who lived in the home.”
The man actually continued to listen to him.
Silently, Daniel thanked the gods.
“And, this may not impress you,” he
continued, almost afraid to stop talking,
“But the people are not institutionalized.
They get a place to live that’s a nice house,
decent rooms. That can’t be bad. Suppose
it was someone in your own family
Who was so old, who couldn’t take
care of themselves, who needed a little
help, a little looking after Someone to
give them their medication, or to ask if
they’re comfortable”
Now it was Daniel’s turn to pause. He
supposed he shouldn’t go on any more and
leave the situation open to more criticism.
But he couldn’t help making one last point.
“Please, come around to the agency.
We’ll give you all the information you
need. We’ll give you records. We can get
testimonies. Again, this is a good thing, sir.
A good thing.”
Daniel held his breath. The man on the
other end of the phone mumbled and
grumbled. Could I have been successful
Daniel wondered.
“Well … I don’t know,” the man replied.
“You sound like a smart person. I don’t
know what to think. I think you’re too
smart for me. I’ll think about what you
said.”
When he put the phone down, Daniel
sighed, relieved.
But rather than relax, Daniel kept on
working. He didn’t slow down for the rest
of the afternoon, until it was time to stop
for the day and go home. Before leaving
the agency, he couldn’t resist studying it
with a curious eye, observing his colleagues
at their work spaces or in their offices,
the implacable papers covering desks,
devoted souls on the phone scratching notes
furiously or writing up their inevitable
suny empire state college • all about mentoring • issue 39 • spring 2011