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We were interviewing two people for a job. One was an existing client who was looking for some part-time work doing sales, Steve B., who had a split level condo we had done work on, and the other was a young woman, Brenda N., who had contacted me. I had arranged for them both to meet me at a Starbucks.

The area we met was near the beach, at the southern tip of the island. The majority of the island was gridded with streets, but this southern tip had a single U-shaped road going from the southern cross street down to the point, with a park in the center and along the outside of the road it was lined with mostly old art deco hotels and restaurants and on-street parking.

The Starbucks was at the perigee of the U, at the end of the park. We got there early and we saw our neighbours there and we said hi. The neighbour, was there with his parents from out of town. We met them briefly, said our hellos and sat down at another table.

Our applicant Brenda arrived and we got her a macchiato and told her we’d wait a little bit for the other person, and we chatted a little bit. She was probably mid-20s, not svelte but healthy, and with a warm, engaging personality that suggested she would be excellent for talking to clients. We made small talk, for instance I mentioned that the Starbucks had originally been a that tea shop chain, but I couldn’t think of the name. I wanted to say Greenley’s or something like that- and it was only later I remembered it was, I think, a David’s Tea Shop. After that had closed the location became a Starbucks, then closed for a year-long renovation and had just reopened.

By now Steve was already more than 15 minutes late so we called him to confirm whether he was going to arrive for the meeting. He said he couldn’t find a sitter and wouldn’t be coming. I told him he that it was an informal meeting and it would’ve been fine with us if he brought his kid. He said he couldn’t. He said maybe some other time we could talk about the job. I gave him a “sure” in the most uncommitted manner possible, and we turned our attention to Brenda.

We discussed what the job would entail, doing some design work, and helping out generally– and if she wanted she could take some of the classes to built the technical skills as well that would allow her to interact directly with our customers. She sounded positive and interested, so we asked her to start Monday. She asked what about the sales guy? I informed her he won’t work out. We got up and said goodbye and she headed out. As we gathered our phones and notes, our neighbours and his family rose to leave so we said goodbye to them and wished them a pleasant visit, grabbed our stuff, and left.

I was watching an interview with Terrence Roberts, part of the Harvard/EdX class on Civic Engagement and he mentioned that when he received hate mail, his standard response was to correct the grammar and send it back.

Terrence Roberts was one of the Little Rock Nine, the group of black students who were the first to attend Little Rock Central High School during desegregation. They were initially denied entry, twice. The first time a local mob plus National Guard, under orders from the Governor, prevented their entry. The second time, an even larger mob prevented them from entering. For them to enter the high school, it took President Eisenhower removing the National Guard from the Governor’s control, and sending U.S. Military troops to the school, where soldiers had to be paired with each student and accompany them throughout the school day just to attend classes and minimise the violence that they were subjected to. Even with those guards, there were acts of violence and aggression against them, and Arkansas closed the high schools completely the following school year to prevent their return.

Mr. Roberts was moved to Los Angeles by his family and he was able to complete his High School education there, which he followed with time at UCLA and CSC and SIU, ultimately getting degrees in Social Welfare and a PhD in Psychology.
Anyway, what struck me about his response to hate mail, reminded me of how Harvard supposedly responded to a letter from the Trump Administration— specifically Linda McMahon’s pugilistic letter that told Harvard it shouldn’t bother seeking grant money. The response that was posted to social media and quickly became viral showed a red-pen markup of the message, in the fashion of a teacher’s response to a poorly written essay. The meme was fake, as they tend to be, crafted by a clever grad student at MIT, but the online response to it was overwhelmingly positive by people assuming it was, in fact, from Harvard, as it was seen as a quite fitting response.

It also reminded me of an even earlier response in the same vein, in the movie Monty Python’s Life of Brian, the classic movie satirising the beginnings of Christianity. The scene I’m reminded of, is the one in which Brian, a new member of the People’s Front of Judea, is tasked with writing “Romans Go Home” on Pontius Pilate’s Palace. Brian, portrayed by Graham Chapman, is caught in the act by a Roman Centurion, portrayed by John Cleese. The Centurion is dismayed by the incorrect Latin scrawled on the wall by Brian, who wrote “Romanes Eunt Domus”, and proceeds to walk him through Latin grammar for the correct term for “Romans” (Romani), and the verb conjugations for “go” (ite), and “home” (Domum) ending with the phrase “Romani ite Domum”. The Centurion then orders Brian to write it 100 times.