OUR BRUSH WITH THE FINER LIFE
Our youth program received a grant from a young executive’s group last month, and as part of the award I got invited to a check presentation at a posh club in downtown Philadelphia this past week. I asked if I could bring along some of the students whose businesses this money is going to be invested in, and was given the green light. I immediately convened my group of six young entrepreneurs and told them about the award and about the reception. I stressed the importance of dressing up and playing the part that by the next class, when I brought up the event as a reminder they were urging each other to dress and act right.
The day of the reception came. Four of the six dressed up, while the other two weren’t in horrible attire but were wearing sneakers. I threw them a muted look of disapproval and assembled the group to head out. I passed out subway tokens and we walked the block to the station and got on. My boss and another staff member were also waiting at the same station. I brushed up to them as they saw as saunter towards them and said, “We’re going to the Pyramid Club, where are you going?” They were heading to a pretty posh party themselves. They were pleased to see my students – well, at least most of them – dressed nice and ready to swim in the world of grown-ups.
We arrived downtown and made our way to the skyscraper where the reception was being held. We rode the special elevator to the 52nd floor, as the students snickered the whole time up about how their ears were popping. (I wondered then if they had ever been in a building this tall.)
The elevator brought us, as it were, to a whole new world: quiet music, gilded floors, and lots of grown-ups dressed quite formally. I checked myself in first and then herded my students to the sign-in table. The registration people told me the two that were wearing sneakers would most likely not get in because of the club’s strict dress code. I was escorted into the party and asked to look for one and then another person in charge. Neither seemed to think they would be able to let the sneakered students in. So I came back out to the students, who were waiting patiently but anxiously for the word. I told the two students in sneakers that they’d have to go home. While I felt bad, I knew this too was part of the education.
Now down to a party of five, we made our way into the reception. I immediately met a couple of people I knew, greeted them, and then introduced them to my students. To varying degrees, they settled into their practiced sales pitches and spoke about themselves and their new ventures. One student pulled me aside and told me she was nervous. “There are lots of adults here, and I’m kind of scared.” I assured her she was doing well and told her she would begin to feel more comfortable once she got into the mix of things.
We found our way into the middle of the reception area, found some food to munch on, and eventually found seats at a table. There, the students seemed to settle in even more; perhaps the early nerves had worn off, and sitting around a table seemed an easier way to converse than standing in the middle of a crowded room. I took one of the students around the floor for a tour of the whole club, and told him that business professionals will often join clubs to have places and times like this to entertain clients and to network. He followed me wide-eyed, taking in the gorgeous views of the city, the many posh rooms, and the ornate decorations.
I got to say a few words after our check was presented to us, and I used the stage to acknowledge my students and invite people to get to know them. Afterwards, we posed for pictures and I figured at that point we’d all want to go home. After all, it was a school night, and it was now past seven. Sure enough, one of my students tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Is it time to go?” I was feeling guilty already for keeping them out late, so I was about to respond to him with a “Yes, let’s get everyone rounded up and let’s head out.”
But before I could respond, he followed up his question with a “Because I’d really like to stay for longer.” I looked at the other three students, and they all seemed to be settling in, having the time of their lives. So we stayed. They regaled in sampling good food, trading business cards and networking with others at the party, and visiting the dessert stations. They couldn’t get over the view of the entire city from this tall skyscraper in the middle of downtown. The next thing you know, it was eight and cell phones were starting to ring, as parents were calling to ask their children to get home.
We headed back to West Philadelphia via subway. A couple of the students remarked that we were getting lots of stares and snickerings from various riders, who were teasing the students for being dressed up. “Ignorant” was what one of the students called it. We made it back to our station and disbursed from there. I’m sure these guys will remember their visit to the Pyramid Club for a long, long time.
Our youth program received a grant from a young executive’s group last month, and as part of the award I got invited to a check presentation at a posh club in downtown Philadelphia this past week. I asked if I could bring along some of the students whose businesses this money is going to be invested in, and was given the green light. I immediately convened my group of six young entrepreneurs and told them about the award and about the reception. I stressed the importance of dressing up and playing the part that by the next class, when I brought up the event as a reminder they were urging each other to dress and act right.
The day of the reception came. Four of the six dressed up, while the other two weren’t in horrible attire but were wearing sneakers. I threw them a muted look of disapproval and assembled the group to head out. I passed out subway tokens and we walked the block to the station and got on. My boss and another staff member were also waiting at the same station. I brushed up to them as they saw as saunter towards them and said, “We’re going to the Pyramid Club, where are you going?” They were heading to a pretty posh party themselves. They were pleased to see my students – well, at least most of them – dressed nice and ready to swim in the world of grown-ups.
We arrived downtown and made our way to the skyscraper where the reception was being held. We rode the special elevator to the 52nd floor, as the students snickered the whole time up about how their ears were popping. (I wondered then if they had ever been in a building this tall.)
The elevator brought us, as it were, to a whole new world: quiet music, gilded floors, and lots of grown-ups dressed quite formally. I checked myself in first and then herded my students to the sign-in table. The registration people told me the two that were wearing sneakers would most likely not get in because of the club’s strict dress code. I was escorted into the party and asked to look for one and then another person in charge. Neither seemed to think they would be able to let the sneakered students in. So I came back out to the students, who were waiting patiently but anxiously for the word. I told the two students in sneakers that they’d have to go home. While I felt bad, I knew this too was part of the education.
Now down to a party of five, we made our way into the reception. I immediately met a couple of people I knew, greeted them, and then introduced them to my students. To varying degrees, they settled into their practiced sales pitches and spoke about themselves and their new ventures. One student pulled me aside and told me she was nervous. “There are lots of adults here, and I’m kind of scared.” I assured her she was doing well and told her she would begin to feel more comfortable once she got into the mix of things.
We found our way into the middle of the reception area, found some food to munch on, and eventually found seats at a table. There, the students seemed to settle in even more; perhaps the early nerves had worn off, and sitting around a table seemed an easier way to converse than standing in the middle of a crowded room. I took one of the students around the floor for a tour of the whole club, and told him that business professionals will often join clubs to have places and times like this to entertain clients and to network. He followed me wide-eyed, taking in the gorgeous views of the city, the many posh rooms, and the ornate decorations.
I got to say a few words after our check was presented to us, and I used the stage to acknowledge my students and invite people to get to know them. Afterwards, we posed for pictures and I figured at that point we’d all want to go home. After all, it was a school night, and it was now past seven. Sure enough, one of my students tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Is it time to go?” I was feeling guilty already for keeping them out late, so I was about to respond to him with a “Yes, let’s get everyone rounded up and let’s head out.”
But before I could respond, he followed up his question with a “Because I’d really like to stay for longer.” I looked at the other three students, and they all seemed to be settling in, having the time of their lives. So we stayed. They regaled in sampling good food, trading business cards and networking with others at the party, and visiting the dessert stations. They couldn’t get over the view of the entire city from this tall skyscraper in the middle of downtown. The next thing you know, it was eight and cell phones were starting to ring, as parents were calling to ask their children to get home.
We headed back to West Philadelphia via subway. A couple of the students remarked that we were getting lots of stares and snickerings from various riders, who were teasing the students for being dressed up. “Ignorant” was what one of the students called it. We made it back to our station and disbursed from there. I’m sure these guys will remember their visit to the Pyramid Club for a long, long time.
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