Research the lives of others or force yourself to get out and live your own? This reflection was written to be performed out loud after a Podcast Garage story workshop. Photo captures the 1982 Harvard University Development Office research team, each holding their favorite research source, Kathleen Hayner (center) is wearing the plaid skirt.
It’s the early 1980s, and I’m standing erect and poised in the living room of a classic, tasteful, home in Cambridge, MA. Bookcases line the walls, a grand piano commands the corner, and I command the hall entrance, dressed in sophisticated black -black turtleneck, black skirt, black tights and, oh yes, a frilly white apron. I am smiling and passing out hor d'oeuvres but inwardly I feel like a well-informed spy. You see, I have fully researched the host. I know that his family originally got wealthy through the China Trade, and that his 2nd wife, who is now working on her third glass of wine, was from an even wealthier line of very devoted Harvard men. I know that the oldest son, whose picture is on the mantle, got into Harvard but the younger son had to settle for Cornell.
How did I become such a know-it-all cocktail-waitress-spy? My part-time catering job brings me to the best homes and most exclusive events, but as a recent Boston College graduate with an Irish History degree, my “real” day job is researching wealthy alumni at the Harvard University Development Office. In 2020 this research might require a quick search on LinkedIn, but in the 1980s I spent hours thumbing through Facebook-like printed reunion essay books complete with before and after pictures. When assigned my Harvard graduate of 1950, it was hard not to be distracted reading reports from other famous 1950 grads like authors George Plympton or John O’Hara or Nixon side-kick Henry Kissinger. But eventually I’d find my guy. These grads would typically send in a proud report of how he met a wonderful gal and had a wonderful, although predictable, career making a lot of wonderful money. I would read this update and daydream. Would I be happy in that bank or insurance company or family business? What did I want to learn to do?
One undeniably wonderful aspect of this first job at Harvard is that it comes complete with seven new friends. These seven “young ladies” are also recent grads from schools like Wellesley and UVM. Our desks are packed tightly in one room outside our supervisors private office in the Holyoke Center. We use very low tech tools like IBM Selectric typewriters and liquid white out to write our mini-biographies. We have fun sneaking conversations in between bouts of work and this comradery is a major attraction of the position.
For a year or so, I am loving the routine. Each morning I leave my $200 a month apartment in Allston and jump on the 86 bus to Harvard Square. Bran muffins were the new healthy breakfast food and I’d get mine smothered in butter from the grill at the Mug and Muffin. Once at work I exchange stories from last nights happenings with office mates, do some research, day dream a bit, do some research, discuss my plans for lunch with office mates, then take that lunch hour in Harvard Square. After returning from lunch and discussing any news from lunch, I would dive back into my alum’s life. At 5 pm I could walk out the door and do whatever was happening in Harvard Square that evening - my free class at the Harvard Extension School, or maybe I was meeting friends for a drink at the Ha’Penny Pub or the Oxford Ale House. I’d return home on the 86, go to bed, then repeat.
But, from time to time, one of our researchers shocked the office by announcing new life plans. Wow, I thought. They are my age and they have real plans. One went off to journalism school and embarked on a masters program in library science. We sent them off with cookies and champagne. We would miss them, but quickly befriend their replacement. Their leaving did make me daydream even more about my future career. But it wasn’t until I started getting assignments to update bio’s for the alumnae I wrote about the year before that I began to panic. Look at what they accomplished since last year! What did I do last year? When will I start my real life? So I took some baby steps.
I started hearing the buzz that the future would involve computers. The Sunday Boston Globe was packed with job ads from computer companies needing COBOL programmers so I enrolled in a Harvard Extension COBOL programming course. It was kind of hard! Like learning a new language! Luckily Harvard allowed me to come into the office over the weekend and do my homework on the only terminal that connected to the huge computer and printer on the floor below. One Sunday I was learning about loops, and was challenged to create an alphabetical list of first and last names, such as Alan Aardvark, Barbara Brammer, Charlie Chan. I finished my little program and sent it to print to the locked computer room where I’d pick it up on Monday.
On Monday morning, the head of IT came into our research office lugging a huge stack of wide dot matrix computer printouts all repeating, over and over, Alan Aardvark...Alan Aardvark. The loop had gone loopy! The pile would have been even bigger but the printer ran out of paper.
How embarrassing. It was clear that Digital or Mitre were not going to hire me for my Cobol skills but I still felt that there must be a way to bust out of this comfortable but limited job and join the computer revolution.
It turns out there was a way to leave...you could just take a big gulp, give your notice and leave! ...destination unknown. Hopefully the catering job would pay the rent until the computer industry discovered me. My co-workers toasted me with cookies, champagne, and an office decorated with green and white streamers made out of the ample supply of Alan Aardvark printer paper and I was on my way.
The good thing about having no plan is that it becomes essential that the non-plan works. A job in the retail store trenches selling the Apple IIe and new Macintosh led to a long marketing career at Lotus Development - the 1980’s start-up that made the ground-breaking 1-2-3 spreadsheet, and was eventually bought by IBM. This experience led to other marketing positions which all used the latest technology to share convincing, but authentic, stories with customers, prospects and partners.
It wasn’t a plan that turned me into a wonderfully wealthy alumni but it has been a wonderfully happy path, and one that I’d be content to write about in the 40th Boston College alumni reunion book - if such a book existed - so that, perhaps, some other young researcher - if such a first job still exists - can read my entry and dream their own dreams.