Sheryl told me something that shouldn't have surprised me. Apparently, according to some reputable sources, the college management knew they would be closing the Clackamas site last December. Last December! And our pasty-faced president swore on April 1 in a shaky voice that they had tried and tried to find a new location, but after their efforts failed, they were forced to face the harsh realities of the situation and close the campus. Liar liar pants on fire, if the sources are to be believed. Sheryl is angry because had she known earlier, she would have got on Medicare sooner. Now she's going to be out $500 to COBRA. She blames our former college president.
Speaking of snakes, I've been trying to reach the college president myself. Even though he may not want to talk to me.... it could be he is still sore over the little matter of my snarky photo blog. Today I am willing to grovel a little. I am willing to eat humble pie. Here's why: I am still (still!) in the process of trying to get Institutional Review Board approval to conduct research with human subjects. My first choice of institution turned me down, even after a pleading letter: please, please, please, I promise I won't be disruptive, you won't even know I'm there, please? Nope, no dice. We don't do things like that, the spokesperson said. What, let your faculty tell the truth? Ok, maybe I should have seen that one coming.
Anyway, I thought, ok, now that I'm no longer employed at my former career college, maybe the management there would let me interview their faculty? It seems like a long shot, but worth a try. So I sent an email to the president of the college (the man who encouraged me to embark upon this insane doctoral journey way back in 2005. Remember, dude? You owe me!) No response. Time to put on my big girl panties. I picked up the phone.
“Hi Lynne, this is so-and-so. Is his eminence there?”
“I don't know exactly where he is,” she fluttered. “Uh, you're in Springfield, right?”
“Formerly of Clackamas,” I replied.
“Oh, I knew you were somebody.” That's what ten years got me. Nice to know I'm somebody.
I left a message and continued to prepare my IRB application with the assumption that I would be using a snowball recruiting approach through LinkedIn to find my for-profit faculty subjects. Today I thought I'd give him one more chance. I called Wilsonville again.
“Hi, Betty, this is so-and-so calling for Him, is he available?”
“I don't know where he is,” she said. “I don't even have a phone number for him.”
“You don't have a phone number for the president of the college?”
“Would you like to speak with someone else? Mr. Compliance or Ms. Human Resources? Mr. Financial Aid, or perhaps Mr. Controller?”
“Uh, let me talk to Mr. Compliance,” I said.
He must have been sitting on the phone. “Compliance!”
I explained my mission, talk to faculty, bla bla bla, need permission from the man, yada yada, all confidential and anonymous, of course, har har har. Mr. Compliance listened politely.
“I am not the one who can give you permission, but I can ask the president for you.”
“Great. That would be great. Just have him send an email, yes or no.”
“Good luck to you.”
So of course by the end of the day there was no email from the president. I had to try, though. Never let it be said I didn't try.
