despite appearances otherwise...
Spring semester had arrived on campus, which meant the beginning of "rush" for my student business organization. It was a big deal back then, as we were well-established and helped our members start their careers at big name investment banks, consultancies, and accounting firms. As the Head of Social Affairs, it was my job to organize our big "Social Night," and that year, I chose to have it at a nearby pub. For two weeks, we passed out flyers to students in the quad and invited our friends to attend. Our efforts were rewarded: almost two hundred prospects showed up that night, and Kaitlin was among those I welcomed and thanked for coming.
We began to pair off prospects with active members to eat, drink and mingle. I planted myself atop a pool table and quickly developed my own "circle" of prospects. As it was Social Night, I kept the conversation light and fluffly, while still trying to gauge their level of interest and their potential. I remember being unimpressed with all of them, Kaitlin included. While they were certainly interested, none of them seemed to be cut from the "elitist" cloth we were looking for. I did my best, however, to politely oblige them and keep the stilted conversation flowing.
As people joined and left my little circle to meet other actives, Kaitlin stayed with me. I'm not sure why; perhaps she sensed that we had built some kind of personal connection. She cheerily asked me all sorts of questions to get to know me and my organization better. In response, I gave her my sanitized truth, canned responses that I had repeated a hundred times before and delivered with all the grace of a politician. She was eager to please, highly motivated, and likable, but unfortunately for her, I was looking for the next generation of suits and Kaitlin didn't fit the bill. Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and I took the opportunity to pass her along to another active member. Glad that my little song and dance was over, I quickly got back to running the show. That was the first and last time we ever spoke. We did not extend her an invitation, and I soon forgot all about her.
Years later, after Kaitlin and I had both graduated from school, a friend of mine sent me a link to an article in a local paper. It was a missing person's report, and I instantly recognized her name. The details were scant, but it did mention that she had gone missing after a recent breakup with her boyfriend. I worried for her and searched the internet daily for updates on her whereabouts. Many days passed. The police organized a search party, but called it off only a week thereafter. Private search parties were then organized, and some of my close friends joined the effort, scouring the wooded area she was last seen. At one point, I actually began hoping that she had been kidnapped, imagining that any day now she would come back safely, relating to the reporters how she bravely escaped from her captors and made her way to freedom.
Almost a month later, one of the search parties eventually found her. It soon became clear some time later that she had taken her own life. I was shocked by the news, and for many days afterwards felt pangs of sadness and regret.
I remember how I condescendingly talked down to her that night. It's obvious to me in hindsight that she was a sensitive person, and craved that personal connection to other people. Thrived on it. And it is with this realization I find myself asking for a do-over, for a chance to have had a single, meaningful conversation that I could remember by.
It's been months, but in my spare moments, I still think about her from time to time. I imagine that I'm granted my do-over. In my head, we run into each other in the streets of San Francisco. We grab coffee and catch up on each other's lives. She tells me about her life and I listen greedily, eating up each word as if they were freshly picked blackberries. In return, I share my own thoughts, and afterwards we agree to meet again. She leaves and comforts herself with the fact that despite appearances otherwise, no one is ever truly alone.
We began to pair off prospects with active members to eat, drink and mingle. I planted myself atop a pool table and quickly developed my own "circle" of prospects. As it was Social Night, I kept the conversation light and fluffly, while still trying to gauge their level of interest and their potential. I remember being unimpressed with all of them, Kaitlin included. While they were certainly interested, none of them seemed to be cut from the "elitist" cloth we were looking for. I did my best, however, to politely oblige them and keep the stilted conversation flowing.
As people joined and left my little circle to meet other actives, Kaitlin stayed with me. I'm not sure why; perhaps she sensed that we had built some kind of personal connection. She cheerily asked me all sorts of questions to get to know me and my organization better. In response, I gave her my sanitized truth, canned responses that I had repeated a hundred times before and delivered with all the grace of a politician. She was eager to please, highly motivated, and likable, but unfortunately for her, I was looking for the next generation of suits and Kaitlin didn't fit the bill. Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and I took the opportunity to pass her along to another active member. Glad that my little song and dance was over, I quickly got back to running the show. That was the first and last time we ever spoke. We did not extend her an invitation, and I soon forgot all about her.
Years later, after Kaitlin and I had both graduated from school, a friend of mine sent me a link to an article in a local paper. It was a missing person's report, and I instantly recognized her name. The details were scant, but it did mention that she had gone missing after a recent breakup with her boyfriend. I worried for her and searched the internet daily for updates on her whereabouts. Many days passed. The police organized a search party, but called it off only a week thereafter. Private search parties were then organized, and some of my close friends joined the effort, scouring the wooded area she was last seen. At one point, I actually began hoping that she had been kidnapped, imagining that any day now she would come back safely, relating to the reporters how she bravely escaped from her captors and made her way to freedom.
Almost a month later, one of the search parties eventually found her. It soon became clear some time later that she had taken her own life. I was shocked by the news, and for many days afterwards felt pangs of sadness and regret.
I remember how I condescendingly talked down to her that night. It's obvious to me in hindsight that she was a sensitive person, and craved that personal connection to other people. Thrived on it. And it is with this realization I find myself asking for a do-over, for a chance to have had a single, meaningful conversation that I could remember by.
It's been months, but in my spare moments, I still think about her from time to time. I imagine that I'm granted my do-over. In my head, we run into each other in the streets of San Francisco. We grab coffee and catch up on each other's lives. She tells me about her life and I listen greedily, eating up each word as if they were freshly picked blackberries. In return, I share my own thoughts, and afterwards we agree to meet again. She leaves and comforts herself with the fact that despite appearances otherwise, no one is ever truly alone.
posted by Nathan at 11:47 PM
