The typical how-to is an instruction manual of sorts, and its underlying assumption is that the reader wants something, and the author's goal is to relate, step by step, how the reader can get it. Our culture values the idea that when you want something, you go after it, or at the very least, you ask for what you want.
That is one way of thinking -- sometimes referred to as a Western perspective. Another paradigm, though, is to think not about the outcomes but about the circumstances. In this school of thought, you set up or enter into the context, and watch whatever naturally results. What you need will come to you. Things aren't always as they seem.
I met Mike when I was twenty-five. I was a financial aid counselor -- young, just a year out of grad school -- and he was a broke medical student. It was an unexpected way to begin a friendship. Here is how it all began.
At Big University of Loma Linda (a.k.a. BULL), you had to have an appointment to see financial aid counselors, every day except Friday. I don't know what horse's ass thought this policy up, but there it was. Fridays were always mobbed in that too-small, grungy office. The orange and tan canvas painting in the lobby held too much dust. The floors never seemed to be clean. The students hated it and the counselors hated it more, for we had to face it every damn day. The staff took no end of abuse from college-age kids who were broke, desperate, and angry. We did our best, but there never seemed to be enough people, time, physical space, or money to go around.
One Friday afternoon I sat in my office, exhausted. As the primary counselor on call that day, I had worked with so many students my head was swimming. It was late in the day. The clock ticked hopefully from 4:30 toward 5:00. Even though rush hour would be no picnic, at least I could go home and close my eyes.
Then the phone rang. "You got a student," said the front desk. I straightened my back and went out to the lobby. It was surprisingly quiet, but for the one customer who had prompted the call. I gave him a smile and took the slip from the receptionist. "Medical student," she said. Her tone rang a low bell of warning.
"Hi, Mike," I said brightly, looking at the scrawl. Shaking hands with him was like sticking my hand into a MLB pitcher's glove. "Come on back." He tried not to outpace me as I led the way down the dim cabinet-lined hall. I introduced myself as we walked and, when we got into my office, invited him to have a seat at the side of the desk.
"I see you've written 'student loan' here," I said. "Can you say more?"
He nodded glumly. "The bank says they mailed the check over a month ago," he replied. "I've called every week but it still isn't here."
He proceeded to tell me how his landlord was looking the other way on the rent past due, at least for now. And a friend of his who owned a grocery store was letting him run a tab. Mike had been shopping after hours at the store so he could eat.
Obviously this was an appalling situation. I asked a few questions about dates, the name of the bank, and called up his file on the dumb terminal. According to Oscar, everything was in order, or should be.
"Mike, I'm going to check a few things," I told him. "If you'll please wait here for a few minutes, I'll be right back." He nodded again, still looking unhappy. He didn't look hopeful that I would have any effectiveness at all.
