Six months into working in a foster home for children with mental disabilities, my boss wanted to "have a talk" with me. 

Has anyone ever said, "we need to have a talk" and meant they wanted to discuss something enjoyable?  Something pleasant, or even benign?  No, I don't think so.  I think when someone has something heavy, or profoundly meaningful to lay on the doorstep of the house of your conscious mind, they give you fair warning; we are going to engage in a form of combat so make sure you come prepared.  Wear your armor and bring your weapons. 

In this scenario, the one issuing the warning always has the advantage of surprise, as well as time spent preparing.  They're prepared to deliver the killing blow before they ever bring the idea up.  By the time you have an inkling of what you're in for, they've already run hundreds of simulations and seen you metaphorically dead at their feet many times. 

In this case my boss (who was something of a mentor at this point) sat me down and explained how it was a poor choice on my part to take two of the boys on a bike ride to my apartment to play video games.  

He specifically pointed out that the choice of game ("Mortal Kombat") was particularly thoughtless considering both boys had anger management issues and violent tendencies, and playing a game like that has been known to stimulate those aggressive feelings.  He calmly informed me that both boys had engaged in untoward behavior since our spontaneous outing, not to mention that both boys have also been sexually abused a number of times and carry all that horrible baggage around as well, which is directly related to their violent behaviors. 

My boss, who will be called Dod henceforth, did his best to avoid delivering this information without affecting a condescending tone, then brought up an anime movie I shared with the kids that was also particularly violent (for those that care, it was "Fatal Fury the Motion Picture", or Fatal Fury 3 as it's often referred to.  Not a classic or anything but it's fun to watch).  He stated he understood my intentions were good, however my judgment needed some fine tuning.  Dod felt I had the potential to be a quality support worker, but it would never happen without the proper training.  

My head was swimming with all this sudden information.  I was simultaneously confused and in agreement.  The scope and breadth of what was left to learn seemed to become illuminated even as I realized how dark were the shadows of my ignorance.   What other mistakes would I make that might negatively effect these young boys?  What other mistakes have I already made and don't yet realize?  Still, the confusion for me seemed as a flimsy gauze over my mind's eye, easily torn away to reveal a clear truth; just because the boys had fun in the moment, playing a fighting video game where gallons of blood fly with every hit, and watching a movie about fighters using their life force to enhance their fighting skills so they can fight with more destructive power, doesn't mean they would stay happy, or that any of that stuff I introduced them to wouldn't influence their thoughts which in turn influences their actions... ya ok, I messed up!  But jeez man, how was I supposed to know all that beforehand?  Isn't this the sort of situation where I have an epiphany which will cause me to become more aware of the choices I make as or before I make them?  Do you have to fire me for this?!

Sigh...yes.  

Dod proclaimed I needed structured training and recommended I look into a company called, Alfred Maylor.  He told me I'd be working with developmentally disabled adults in a group home setting, and that the company would provide the type of training he felt I needed.  

Humbled (not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time by hundreds of long miles), I asked my mentor for a letter of recommendation.  Dod wrote that letter but I never used it.  I respect that he couldn't omit some important facts about my character (from his perspective), nor would he lie outright just to make me appear better than I was.  Consequently, the letter didn't exactly make me shine, so I guess my last mistake in his employ was making him waste his time at the typewriter.  

Yeah, a typewriter.  It really was that long ago.  Anyhow, moving along...

I had a big choice to make at age 20: continue working with people who have been diagnosed with mental disabilities, or find something else to do?

I was living in a college town.  My girlfriend was a student at the university.  Most of the people I met who were my age were also students.  Sure seemed obvious what to do.  

Yep, you guessed it!  I applied for a job at Alfred Maylor and was hired right away.  

I will never forget that interview...

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