Six degrees of interrogation

Today, I scared shitless a prospective student. I am so proud.

My third interview of the day (all of whom were fabulous, which was a wonderful treat for a rainy disgusting Friday where I clearly do not want to be in the office) wrote down "Mr. Markowski" as her guidance counselor. Years ago, when I was a tiny high school freshman, I took U.S. Government with a Mr. Markowski. As a medium high school senior, I took AP Psychology with a Mr. Markowski. As a large-ish college graduate, my bachelor's is in psychology. Props to Mr. Markowski for getting me hooked on psychology.

So when I read this girl's interview sheet, I actually squealed. I knew that Markowski left my high school shortly after I graduated to be a guidance counselor, so obviously it had to be him. I mean, how many Markowskis are there in the world? When we brought her back for her interview, I may have failed at masking my enthusiasm. Especially when she said that she's working as a guidance aide this year.

Me: Do you know Mr. Markowski's first name?
Her: Um... I think Mark?
Me: Is it Matt? We always used to call him Mark Markowski as a joke, but his name was really Matt.
Her: I... don't know?
Me: Do you know if he has a son named Evan?
Her: ...
Me: He was one of my favorite teachers!
Her: ...

I know at the beginning of the interview we were her top choice... odds are, I changed that somewhere during the course of my interrogation.