A recent experience reminded me of one I had in high school. In 1986, I graduated with honors, meaning I was in the top 10 percent of my class. Being active in youth leadership as a student senator and an elected state officer for the national chapter of HERO (home economics related occupations), and public speaking were among the things for which I was known. One of the scholarships I received was from the Rotary Club of Dallas, having spoken at their monthly meetings at the Texas State Fairgrounds numerous times. It was an honor, educational, and much fun.
In my senior year, my girlfriend wanted in one of my classes for the second semester, but it was full. I guess this upset her because unbeknownst to me, her father called the school in hopes of advocating that she be placed in my class. So out of the blue one day, I was called into the principal's office.
 |
| As a kid I was Batman: full on integrity |
As a student senator active as a youth leader on a state and national level representing Skyline High School, which at the time—in the mid 80s—was the 3rd largest high school in the US, I knew the principal well. After all, I was an honor student. I also knew Principal Golden from serving on a committee to help him transition from the very popular Frank Guzick. Guzick was so beloved he had a Dallas area school named after him.
Very quickly I realized that this wasn't the ordinary visit to the offices of Skyline High School. Apparently Melany's father had NOT called Mr. Golden in hopes of pushing her into my class. Unsure who had, they wanted to speak to me. Dr. Tuckey, the disciplinary vice-principal was in the office, as was the department head, and friend of mine, Mrs. Blair. It was Dr. Tuckey's assessment that I had made the call. Wait. What?
 |
That's me in the center of the left page, editor in chief of "For Senior's Only" school magazine. Mr. Golden is just above me, and Mr. Guzick at top 2nd from left. My fellow student senators at bottom. |
After a few questions I learned that someone posing as Melanie's father called and spoke to Mr. Golden personally. Mr. Golden knew me…quite well. I asked Mr. G if he A: really believed I could get away with sounding like anyone but me, let alone her father, and B: in knowing me, he really thought I could not only do something like that, but think I could get away with it.
Mr. Golden did NOT think the man posing as Mr. Melaniedad sounded like me, nor did he think I would do something of the sort. Mrs. Blair was in the same court and did not believe in the slightest that I would try something like that. She then brought to our attention that at the time the call was made, I was in class. Dr. Tuckey, not knowing me as well, swore it was me, even though he never spoke to the faux father who made the call.
 |
| Jedi Knight |
Later, while in class, Mrs. Blair told me a story of her being blamed for something she never did. As far as she knew, she was still thought of as being responsible. It's something she can live with because she knows the truth. She believed me, and understood my disappointment in Dr. Tuckey placing blame at my feet. She assured me that keeping my integrity in tact meant that those who really matter believed Dr. T was off base, Mrs. B. encouraged me to keep my head high and let it slide off my back like water on a duck. Being unfamiliar with waterfowl and certain phrases, I had to look that up. But I would always be guilty in the doctor's mind.
Nearly forty years later I was visiting with a friend I used to work with at a haunted house in Houston. I told him that I felt that I've fallen out of popularity because I no longer worked there. He said something that confused me; something about the letter I wrote to the corporate offices of 13th Floor anonymously. Wait. What? Not only did I not write a letter to corporate, I never wrote any letter to the haunt at all. For what reason? Smoking back stage.
He recanted how the company director read this letter to the actors one night after the show at a pizza place. She attributed it to me because it was sent snail mail, which is apparently old-fashioned, as I'm known to be; was written well, which is my style; and was about a topic I had once brought up to her in a complaint. Never resolved, the following year, I simply stayed away from the other actors to avoid the smoke. Not a big deal.
I was more than shocked. First of all, the unprofessionalism of a manager reading out loud a letter sent to corporate, anonymously or not, then handed down to the Houston division. And then assigning guilt based on gut-feeling, without investigation. I was vocal about my issues with backstage smoking and was not alone in the complaints. It would be easy to craft a letter in the style of my speaking, and my blog is not exactly private, with over 35,000 views. Believe me, were I to write a letter in hopes of keeping it anonymous, it would be written in the style of someone other than myself. Doy!
 |
| I often had friends over |
So upset over this accusation and the method in which it was handled in front of my friends, I dealt with it differently than in high school. To defend myself I called her out in a letter that, as she had done, I shared with the actors. The haunted house in Houston was never lacking for drama. There were actors with an ego the size of Alaska who thought they ran the place. Actually, they sort of do...telling others who displease them that they shouldn't bother to show up for work.
One of these ego-cretins once came to me and asked to speak in private. I followed him and he said, “This is coming from (our director), but you can't advertise your party here.” What displeased him was leaving fliers advertising my Halloween party. And now he was telling me I couldn't do so, as had been done by others. This guy hated me. He tore down signs I posted in the break area selling contact lenses I couldn't wear. He once accused me of “stealing” the new hires when inviting them to join a group of us another place from where he wanted to go.
My immediate response to this mental midget was, “If this is coming from (director), have (director) tell me," and I walked away. Our director never said a thing and my fliers remained (It was a great party, by the way). The third time he asked me to step aside so he could speak to me—yes, third—I told him that I was done being pulled aside by him. If he had something to tell me, he could do so in front of everyone present. This time it was to complain that was planning a party the same night he wanted one. Tough shit, Sherlock. I announced first.
 |
| Just look at the spread |
 |
| The Halloween Party was off the hook |
My point is, this guy hated me enough that I could see him trying to set me up with this anonymous letter. The funniest thing is that he had no idea that I was only planning to work 1 night that season because I was returning to my full-time job. Such energy was wasted trying to set me up when I wasn't even going to work that season. And (director) fell for it, regardless of who wrote the letter.
 |
It took a year, but she finally spoke to me about this letter and I took the opportunity to fill her in a few of the things the moron did while I was employed by her, including his various verbal threats, each of which I laughed at him and walked away. His hatred of me grew each time. If I felt no need to write her a letter about all that, I certainly had no need to write a letter about backstage smoking. I was never, nor am I now, scared of that simpleton.
But like Dr. Tuckey in 1985, she stood by her guns saying she knew I wrote the letters (yes, plural). So now to find I wrote 2 letters. Just how many did I write?, I asked. But don't bother. As much as I'd love to hear what the letters said, I know I didn't write them, regardless of the style in which they were written or the topics covered.
 |
A few years ago I learned that Mrs. Blair had passed away. I have no idea if Dr. Tuckey is alive, but I couldn't help but wonder if that 12-sandwich eating man still thinks I made that call to Principal Golden. Not only did I really admire Mrs. Blair, she now knows the truth about the call to Principal G. I didn't make the call. I didn't write the letters. End of story.
As stated in my defense, I own my thoughts and don't hide behind fear. The backstage smoking pales in comparison to the backstabbing and yet I never mentioned it. The saddest thing about being drug back into their drama is that it has stained the joy I had in working there for two seasons.
What I love most is when I asked my friend why I was just hearing about this over a year after it happened. He said no one from our group of friends really thought I wrote the letter. It's like Mrs. Blair said…if you have good integrity, if you live life right, no one who really knows you or counts will believe shit like making calls to a man you know, pretending to be your girlfriend's father, or writing anonymous letters.
 |
| No fear |
If you enjoy poetry, you can purchase signed copies of my 3 books at www.penguinscott.com
www.PenguinScott.com
Thanx for reading. Leave a comment below.
