Boy, I’m glad I don’t work in a university admissions department.
Marketing anything to a 17-year-old boy is hard enough without having to market an institution of higher learning to a 17-year-old boy and his parents at the same time.
My Beloved and I visited one of those institutions of higher learning with my 17-year-old stepson today. He’s a junior in high school, and it’s time to get serious about what he wants to do when he grows up.
We extracted the bare minimum of information from him (long distance no less because, remember, he lives two states away with his mother) and determined a small, private university in a non-urban setting with degrees in business, environmental science or history might be appropriate.
Today’s campus visit included a tour, chapel service, lunch and a meeting with a financial aid representative.
At lunch, when Caswell went off to check out the offering of buffalo wings, I leaned over to my Beloved and said, “Well, do you think he likes it?”
He shrugged and looked exasperated. “I don’t know.”
Later, when we had Caswell trapped in the car, he said, “It was like the low leagues.”
Huh? Low leagues? “Do you mean minor leagues?”
“Yeah, minor leagues. And lunch tasted like crap.”
Hmm. Well, we can cross this option off the list and I’m not entirely sure why. But lunch didn’t impress him.
I’m a firm believer in gut feelings, so I support Caswell’s decision. But here’s the hard news for the admissions department: I watched him complete his campus visit survey (a requirement in order to get a free T-shirt). Everything was rated as “good” or “excellent.”
Somebody in the admissions department doesn’t know enough to ask what prospective students think of lunch.