Year One, Week Ten
Mincey’s Musings

I think probably everyone “sizes up” people when they first meet them. For years, I thought this ability was a special gift handed only to me. I can remember bragging over and over in my younger days, “I can size a person up within the first five minutes of having met them.”

One day somebody replied, “Don’t you think just about everybody can do the same thing?” When I thought about it, I decided this person was probably right, and another of life’s huge letdowns was revealed—the gift of first impressions was not unique just to me.

I can think of four instances where first impressions have come into play for me.

First are those instances in which I have incorrectly judged a person. For my first quarter of study at Lincoln Memorial University, I was assigned to work for the young and very pretty Director of Public Relations. My main job was to deliver the daily FYI newsletters to various locations around campus.

My work study supervisor was a very attractive, rather personable young woman who was engaged to be married in the not too distant future. Her office was located in the University Advancement suite then located on the top floor of Duke Hall. Several other women worked in that suite.

One Thursday my supervisor was in an exceptionally great mood. She was almost giddy as I left to deliver my flyers. It never occurred to me that on the next day she would present a drastically different mood.

When I reported on Friday, my supervisor had fixed her hair a different way. I walked straight up to her, and in (what I considered, anyway) a joking manner, I said, “Your hair looks awful.”

The next thing I heard was a tremendous burst of uncontrollable laughter, not from my supervisor, but from the other ladies who worked in the office suite. They were no more amused than my supervisor was enraged. She practically threw the newsletters at me and ordered me out of her sight.

Unfortunately, I was too dumb to realize what I had done. When I followed her into her office to apologize for whatever I had done, she informed me that I had embarrassed her in front of her coworkers. I spent a long weekend agonizing over this mishap, dreading the following Monday. I apologized again on Monday, and received a cool acceptance of my apology.

Eventually, I learned that just because a person is in a playful, jocular mood today, that might not hold true tomorrow. The rest of the quarter went uneventfully, but the hand of fate (or the wrath of a woman scorned) directed my future path.

For the Winter Quarter, 1984, I received a new work study supervisor. I can remember the first time I met Dr. Louis Lutz, legendary Professor of Biology at Lincoln Memorial University. I was absolutely terrified to be assigned to Dr. Lutz, for his reputation preceded him. I had heard much about his fearful and terrible demeanor!

With work study assignment in hand, I went to Dr. Lutz’s office on the ground floor of Farr Hall to arrange my schedule. His door was slightly ajar, and I could see him sitting at his desk, back to the door. He was a rather small, elderly man. I knocked, and he quietly said, “Yes?” and turned in my direction.

My first impression was that he looked older than God. I knew I had been assigned to Dr. Lutz for him to break my spirit, much as a cowboy would tame a horse. In a quavering voice I said, “D-Dr. Lutz?” “Yes,” he replied. “I’m your new work study student.”

“Oh, good! Good!” he exclaimed. “Are you a biology major?” I explained that I was an education major, and he proceeded to curse the university and all creation for sending him another of these !@# #$%^ education majors that didn’t know a #$%^ thing about biology.

I immediately proceeded to apologize for my lack of biological knowledge, but he said, “That’s fine. Just write down the times you can work on this piece of paper, and go on and have a nice rest of the day.”

Feeling a need to ingratiate myself to this fearsome individual who held part of my immediate future in his grasp, I offered to begin working that very minute. “No, that’s fine.” He repeated, a little slower and louder, “Just write down the times you can work on this piece of paper, and get the &*(( out and have a nice rest of the day.” Still not getting it, I offered one more time to stay and work and he boomed, “DO YOU HAVE A !@# #$%^ HEARING PROBLEM? I said write down the times you can work and get the &*(( out of here!” I was not invited to have a nice day this third time.

I wrote my available times and left as quickly as possible. So began my relationship with one of the best supervisors that could be wished for. Dr. Lutz simply assigned tasks and left me to complete them without interruption. My main job was typing tests for his general biology classes.

Dr. Lutz would pull an old biology text from his shelves and mark definitions in the glossary. From these I was to create monstrous matching tests. The first section would have as many as two hundred terms in alphabetical order with pages of single spaced definitions on succeeding pages. I could have made a fortune selling these tests, and I could have used the money. I must admit, it was not moral integrity but the fear of what that man would do to me if I were ever caught that kept me honest.

I was never a student in any of his classes—I was his work study student for over two years. Working for Dr. Lutz was a way of earning money toward my college expenses, and every dollar was well earned.

Dr. Lutz might have been a biology professor by trade, but I learned two interesting lessons from him about other things that I’ll share next week.