by Susan Knox
I’ve always had a soft spot for young men in their early twenties. There’s an innocence, a vulnerability riding just below the surface. I saw this look in my two sons. I worried about them. Will they be taken advantage of? Badly used? Disappointed in love?
A new college graduate, Marvin Horvath, Class of 1978, sits across from me in my office on a university campus. He’s got that look. Marvin is a tall, thin, New Jersey native with fine black hair, so black there’s no shine to it. I’m Director of Internal Auditing. He’s applied to be an auditor, but I know he’s not right for the job. Too reserved. Not inquisitive. More an analytical type. I hire him. He doesn’t know it but I’m going to be Associate University Treasurer in a few weeks and he’s the ideal candidate to help me implement a cash management program.
***
Thirty-four years later, the Marvin who sits across the table from me at Etta’s Restaurant in Seattle is a man who doesn’t exercise. He has a paunch. He’s bald except for a fringe of gray hair running around his head like a monk’s tonsure. His scalp is red and coarse looking where the hair has gone missing. He no longer has that vulnerable look.
Marvin is still soft spoken and polite. He still has a New Jersey accent. He still works in the Treasurer’s Office and now he has my former title, Associate University Treasurer. It’s rare to meet someone these days who has such staying power.
I appreciate how he survived administrative changes. I think Marvin is a man who plays it safe. He’s nonthreatening, loyal, not too ambitious, speaks with care and knows the institution’s history. His knowledge has value. He seems satisfied. I see intelligence, acuity and competence in providing value to important people like his boss, the university president and trustees—successful survival over a long tenure in a huge organization.
He tells the story of my hiring him. How anxious he was to work at the university, how other departments had turned him down, how he knew finance was his calling, how I gave him the perfect position. I’d forgotten the details and I loved hearing the anecdote. It was an acknowledgement I never expected.
***
Six years after the Seattle dinner, I fly back east for a family event and arrange to have coffee with Marvin. Near the end of our time together, he tells me he’s been fired after forty years of service. A Securities and Exchange Commission review noted a minor omission on a financial document submitted for review. It was basically boilerplate and easily remedied. A trustee learned of this and questioned the university treasurer at a public board meeting. Embarrassed and angry, the treasurer returned to the office and fired Marvin.
As I spoke with other university employees, old friends, I heard a similar story: the top administrators are recruited from the private sector and don’t care about the institution. They’re highly paid, make financial decisions for short-term gains, stay for a few years, collect their bonuses and leave.
When I worked at the university, staff loyalty was strong. Employees were not well paid compared to the private sector but it was an honor to work there. The university was beloved and we wanted to do our best. Now, decades later, the devaluation of staff saddened me. A golden era was over.
I heard from Marvin a few months later. What he’d brought to the university was appreciated by another institution. He was named Chief Financial Officer at a liberal arts college.
Time and change. Marvin gracefully accepted change. Time will tell about the university.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susan Knox’s stories and essays have appeared in Blue Lyra Review, CALYX, Cleaver, Forge, The MacGuffin, Sequestrum, Zone 3, and elsewhere. She has been nominated for a Pushcart and Best of the Net awards. She and her husband live in Seattle, near Pike Place Market where she shops most days for the evening meal.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Badfuta is a self-taught trans artist residing in the United States.