I believe that students appreciate when they cultivate a good working relationship with their financial aid advisors. They feel like someone on the “inside” is looking out for their best interests. However, one of my current students might feel that one-on-one care might not be the most ideal. Case in point is my student Jared.

Jared (not the student’s real name) frequented my office and his phone message filled my inbox more than most students in my former case load. His anxious eagerness to confirm every detail of his financial aid on a regular basis got me onto a first name basis with him. The high volume of contact with him never fazed me; he was always very gracious and appreciative of my help. In short, I knew Jared’s situation very well.

Beyond my work in financial aid, I work security for a popular nightclub in Boston. I wear one of those Secret Service-type headsets (very officially looking) and monitor the flow of traffic in and out of the club. One evening, I stood at the club’s front door collecting cover charges. Along with my “Clear and Present Danger” earpiece, I wore an oversized black sweatshirt blazoned with the word “security” in large white block letters. I embodied nightlife authority.

Around 12:45 AM, a line formed that snaked out onto the sidewalk. Furiously, I collected the cash from the future inebriated to slim down the line. As I looked up, I saw a familiar face and curly black hair about four people back in line, who had yet to see me. Without missing a beat, I loudly spoke, “Jared, I know you’re not 21!” His eyes bulged out of his head like an astonished Looney Tunes character.

“Oh my goodness…hi! (an expletive was removed for reader content) “, he blurted out with the same panic I possessed when my parents caught a 17-year-old me sneaking home past curfew from a concert. “How are you? I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Hi Jared. I sure do.” I refrained from saying further that would heighten his already sky-high embarrassment. His face glowed redder than a ripened Washington apple.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve never done this before. I don’t want to make our relationship awkward,” he said apologetically humble, but still frozen in fear.

I felt sympathy for the poor kid. Did I believe this was his first time trying to duck the legal drinking age? Unlikely. However, he probably never envisioned being bounced from a club by his financial aid advisor. So, I did what I could to diffuse his feeling of awkwardness.

“Hey, I was 20 once. I understand what you were trying to do. I made the same attempts back then. Listen, I can’t let you in tonight. I’ll tell you what: you come back when you turn 21. I’ll let you in for free. I’ll even buy you a drink, but not tonight.” I watched relief flood his face.

“Thanks so much. I really am doing very well this semester. You’ll be proud of me,” he said as he turned out the front door. It was a little extra bit of testimony he thought was needed to ingratiate me into not holding him in eternal judgment. Oh kids, their naïveté is so adorable.

“I’m sure I will be, Jared. I’m sure I will.” I said, smiled and waved at him as he left the club. I did have to take a moment from my duties to release a bellow of laughter from the whole conversation.