At the Cornell Sun Annual Boston Reunion, I planned to beg for a job by wearing a name-tag that said "PLEASEFORTHELOVEOFCHRISTHIREMEEVENFORFREE THANKYOU '07." Those who know me know I detest name tags like fat kids detest carrot sticks.
Anyhow, unfortunately only one lawyer showed up -- a trusts and estates lawyer.
Even though I dropped more hints than a drunk bridesmaid, she never offered even a business card. Oh well. What she did offer, however, was many tales about the men she'd known, dated, and divorced, and her opinion on why dating someone from B.U. was better than dating someone from Cornell.
Did I mention she was in her 50s or 60s? So yes, this was very inappropriate, at least to my modest and prurient self.
And then she dropped the bomb.
"While at Cornell, I actually dated a guy from Dartmouth."
"Oh yeah?" I said, looking for the waitress.
"Yes, his name was Henry Paulson."
WHAT? Full attention now. "Henry Paulson?"
"Yes, Henry Paulson."
"The Henry Paulson?"
"Yes, the Henry Paulson."
"No kidding."
"He was at Dartmouth, he was on the football team, he was tall and he was a perfect gentleman."
"Really now."
"He was also an English major."
And that, my friends, explains everything.
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