Judgement Day

This is part 3 of 3.

In case you need to catch up:

Part 1

Part 2

I couldn’t sleep that night.

I thought about everything I was going to lose.

The rules were clear.

This was an expulsion offense.

I’d be kicked out of school.

Then what?

Move back in with my parents, whose tuition money I’d just flushed down the toilet?

Community college?

Flipping burgers?

What about my girlfriend? Would she stick with me?

What about her parents?

Somewhere during my midnight marination in self-pity, I started to feel bad for what I’d done, rather than just feeling bad for getting caught.

My dark thoughts spun in circles, around and around, no way out.

The glow of sunrise began to leak through the cheap plastic window blinds.

Riiing. Riiiing.

The phone?

Riiing.

Then, I heard the answering machine start to record.

My awareness slowly focused.

It was early.

Alarm clock said 7:32 AM.

The recorder clicked off.

My eyes snapped open.

The hall director.

No way he was calling at 7:30 AM, right?

My roommate still snored.

I stumbled out of bed, fumbling with the playback.

“Hi, this message is for Greg and …”

It was him. Our executioner.

Our sentence was to be carried out at 10AM sharp.

I woke up my roommate and broke the news.

I showered, and trudged to the dining hall for my last meal.

Eggs and bacon. The cafeteria kind.

I couldn’t eat a bite.

As we entered his office, he gestured towards two chairs against the wall.

We sat.

He opened his mouth to speak, stopped, and shook his head.

“Listen. I want you guys to understand something. The amount of alcohol we pulled out of your dorm last night is one of the biggest busts we’ve ever done. Maybe even the biggest.”

“But it doesn’t seem like you guys were having a raging party. You actually seem like decent guys. So, can you explain to me what on earth you were doing with all this stuff?”

“Uh…” my roommate began.

I cut in.

“I know this was way over the top, but we just like to have a nice drink now and then. High quality, good selection.”

(True)

“And even though our collection was a little out of hand, we don’t even drink a lot.”

(Debatable)

“We had some friends over for a poker game and we got too loud.”

(True)

“We weren’t even drinking the stuff in the closet, just a couple of beers.”

(Mostly true)

“But I can tell you that our lives flashed in front of our eyes last night. We’re glad you took all the booze. We need to make some changes.”

(True for me)

I paused.

My roommate pursed his lips.

We sat in awkward, tense silence as the hall director looked back and forth between us, trying to read our expressions.

Trying to weigh our souls with his gaze.

“Normally I have people dump their alcohol down the drain, but in this case that will take too long.”

“Why don’t you each pick one bottle to dump?”

I looked at our stash sitting next to his desk, trying to decide whether I should dump something nice or something cheap.

My roommate, sorting through bottles, suddenly sat up.

”Where’s the gin?”

“Huh?” The hall director looked at him.

“Where’s the gin? There was an unopened bottle. And it looks like some of the tequila is missing too. Patron.” Pause. “All the unopened bottles, actually. Is this everything they gave you last night?"

A look of surprise flashed across the hall director’s face.

“Are you sure? I’m certain this is all they brought me.”

What was this? Nervousness?

“This isn’t all we had. And we have receipts,” my roommate said casually.

We all looked at each other. No one spoke.

“I’m sure this is everything. You each dump a bottle down the drain. I have an 11 AM meeting coming up.” The hall director stood.

A moment later, amber liquid swirled down the drain in his sink.

“That’s good. I’ll be in touch to discuss punishment.”

He was hurrying us out the door.

Once we were standing outside, we looked at each other. What just happened?

My roommate laughed.

“We caught that dude red handed!" There’s no way he expels us now. Otherwise my parents will hire a lawyer.”

I stood there, dazed.

That evening, there was another message waiting for us on the answering machine.

It was our punishment. A slap on the wrist.

90 day probation. An alcohol diversion class.

Not expelled.

Yes. I got away with it.

But you see, I had been scared straight.

I cleaned up my act.

Stopped ditching class, quit drinking every night.

My roommate, though…

Didn’t change a thing.

We both moved out of that dorm room a few months later.

A year after that, he left college.

What’s the lesson here?

Maybe it’s to pay attention to the regulatory and compliance requirements for any new business you start.

Maybe it’s to always have blackmail material on your judges.

Or maybe this is modern art, and it’s up to you to give it meaning and figure out which edge is the top and which is the bottom.

Love to hear your thoughts today,

Greg

P.S. Get ready for the most contrived transition into a pitch that you’ve ever seen…

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