Fourteen years ago I graduated high school and since I couldn't afford to go to Northwestern and Marquette was in a shitty neighborhood in a shitty city in the second shittiest state,* I enrolled at the University of Illinois as an English major. I had every intention then of graduating four years later, coming back to my old high school to coach football and teach English, and living happily ever after in a grown up version of my life to that point. I was a good student, I had a 34 on my ACTs, the university was giving me $2500 a semester just for being Mexican, and I grew up in a school district where something like 80% of the graduates went on to college. It was just what I was supposed to do, and I assumed it would all be as easy as high school had been.
I spent the next five years drinking, smoking, playing video games, watching the Game Show Network, making new friends, battling a serious depression, changing majors four times, trying to learn to play bass guitar, and reading every book I could find except the ones assigned to me. I failed the same Spanish course four times--to be fair, I only attended five class sessions of that course; three of them in the first semester I took it. I was a world-class fuckup, the dictionary definition of wasted potential with the world's worst work ethic.
When I left U of I five years later I was on academic probation, deeply in debt, and still at least a semester away from getting my degree in Rhetoric/Narrative Fiction. I considered going to culinary school, decided the hours weren't for me, and in spite of the urging of my then-fiancee (now ex-wife) I had no intention of ever going back. I got a job selling radio ads for a two-bit local radio station in Joliet IL (the armpit of Chicago, in the running for worst place on Earth) for $26k plus commissions, and settled in for a miserable life.
Things change, the way things have a tendency to do. I was a pretty good salesman, good enough to get another job at a massive third-party logistics firm with a couple offices in Chicago. I also discovered that when there was a strict correlation between "work ethic" and "food on the table" I was willing to put a lot more effort in. I got divorced, moved back to the civilized suburbs, and discovered that I'm really, really good at logistics. Sales to operations, I had that shit down. By the time I started dating the wonderful woman you all know as my wife, I was on an accelerated management track and making a decent living with tons of upside potential. We talked a bit about my going back to school someday, but I was never that interested and she didn't seem to think any less of me for not having a degree.
Fast-forward another couple years, and my good job at the big 3PL suddenly turns pretty lousy. In September of '10 they ask me to take a 40% pay cut because the branch had under-performed and I started looking around. A customer of mine at the time had an opening for a Logistics Director, and after a quick interview I had a substantial raise, half the commute, and an impressive-sounding job title. Not bad for a college dropout.
About a year ago my boss came in my office and asked what I thought about getting an MBA. I laughed, said I couldn't afford it, and pointed out that I didn't even have a BA yet. He didn't laugh, told me he'd pay for it, and told me he'd pay for me to finish my BA as well. I stopped laughing, sputtered out a thank you, and went home to think it over. My wife and I decided a free MBA was nothing to turn up my nose at, so I went back the next day and said I'd go for it.
Yesterday I took my last final. At the end of May, I'll receive the diploma I was originally supposed to get in the Spring of 2002. A Bachelor of Arts in Rhetoric (Narrative Fiction) with a minor in Film Studies. I'm awfully proud, considering that I never expected to see this day and that I was pretty sure until a few minutes ago that I never really cared about earning that piece of paper anyway. I couldn't possibly have done it without the support of my wife--much like when I quit smoking, the fact that she let me figure this out on my own instead of putting pressure on me herself made all the difference. I'm a lucky guy.
*Behind South Carolina, obviously.
