Page 68 of Fraud
IHATED PUBLIC SPEAKING.
I hated it more than brussel sprouts. More than blind dates and definitely more than football.
But it was part of my job, and as such, I had to learn to deal with it.
Go with the flow, suck it up, and all that other crap I’d told myself this morning to force my body out of bed.
The university was gearing up for the upcoming year, which meant a lot of schmoozing with potential students and their parents. And, while our regents and Board of Trustees all secretly wished for wealthy, able-bodied students whose parents could cut large checks without breaking a sweat, the people like me, down in the trenches, knew better.
Not everyone planned for college.
And, even for those who did, life always managed to get in the way.
Financial aid was needed today more than ever, yet the gap between what we could give and what people could afford continued to grow wider, separating the haves from the have-nots with a big, bright defining line between them.
It was why my job was sadly so busy.
I processed more and more loans every year. While I was happy to help students achieve their dreams of a degree, knowing the debt they would accumulate after school was troublesome.
But, sometimes, dreams required sacrifice, and in my six years of working at my alma mater, I’d witnessed some amazing success stories.
“You’ve got a good turnout,” Amy whispered as she returned to the front of the auditorium after handing out the few pamphlets I’d brought with me.
“I always do,” I replied. “Everyone wants to know about loans. How to get them, how not to get them, if they can somehow switch them into a grant.”
“You’re kidding.” She laughed.
“I wish I were.”
“I hope my parents weren’t that bad,” she commented as she organized everything for me, prepping all my notes, while the last few seats were taken.
“No, they were great. I remember when they came to this meeting actually. You were at the admitted-students’ activities, and I believe all three of you stopped by my office later that day. I knew you’d found your home.”
“And, now, you can’t get rid of me.” She smiled.
“If only that were true.”
She scrunched up her nose, making a sad face, as she took her seat.
We both knew it was coming.
Graduation day.
She wasn’t the first assistant I’d had to let go, and she wouldn’t be the last. In their time here, they became like the little sisters I never had. I cared for them, gave them advice, and made sure they kept their heads above water.
But, with Amy, it had been different.
She was one of those success stories I’d been lucky enough to witness from beginning to end. She’d started off as a mediocre student, barely getting in based on her high school grades and test scores. But college just clicked with Amy. It was where she’d found her lease on life and finally blossomed. After choosing a major, she’d managed to ace all her classes, and she was now looking to graduate magna cum laude. She might joke that her life ambition was to marry British royalty, but I knew she’d go far—with or without that boyfriend of hers.
“Okay, you’re good to go,” she whispered, giving me a thumbs-up.
I took a deep breath, stepping up to the podium.
About four thousand sets of eyes settled on me. I might have been exaggerating. It could have been only three thousand. Either way, it was a lot, and tiny beads of sweat began to drip down my back.
Grabbing the mouse, I gave it a little movement, bringing the computer to life, so I could start my presentation. I’d found that having some sort of screen to refer to helped keep me calm.
The added bonus of diverting all those eyeballs away from me didn’t hurt either.
