Most Useless Class
January 8, 2024 – Charlotte, North Carolina, USA
“I’m 99% sure I’m set to graduate, but can you check just to make sure?” Connor Despres said to the academic advisor.
It was the first day of what was supposed to be Connor’s last semester at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte. With his business degree complete, he would soon enjoy life beyond college-level poverty.
The advisor scanned his academic record on her computer while Connor stood in front of her desk. She furrowed her brow and said, “Uh oh.” A chill ran up Connor’s spine as he dropped into a chair set in front of the desk.
“What do you mean, uh oh?”
“Looks like you’re missing a class?”
“How can that be? I talked to somebody two years ago and followed the plan we made.”
“Uh huh. The problem is that you arrived when they were making changes to your major. The requirements can be confusing, but it looks like you still need a language class and I don’t see one on your schedule.”
“A language class?”
“It’s a social science requirement. The easiest way to satisfy it is one semester of a foreign language. Any language will do.”
“But I don’t have room in my schedule.”
“Then you won’t graduate this semester. Everything you’re taking is required?”
“Well, not the Financial Instruments class. But it’s going to help me with my new job.”
“If you can graduate without it, I’d suggest dropping that and adding a language.”
Connor sighed painfully. “Which language class would you recommend?”
“A lot of business students take Spanish or Chinese. Let me take a look.” The advisor clicked her computer mouse. “Looks like all those sections are full. Hmm. Same thing with French and German. Students keep complaining they don’t teach enough sections.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Connor asked desperately.
“Hold on. There’s usually room in one of the more obscure languages. Here’s one. I’ll bet this is taught by a visiting professor. Somebody names Hoxha. Albanian.”
“Albanian? That sounds like the most useless class ever.”
“If you want to graduate on time, it’s your best bet.”
Connor dropped his head into his hands. After asking the advisor to check again and again, he finally resigned himself to Albanian. He used his phone to drop the interesting Financial Instruments class to make room for complete nonsense.
The first lecture for Introduction to Albanian began the next morning. Connor found a hidden classroom in the basement of a building mostly used as a woodshop. He counted fifteen other student victims sitting in World War II era desks. A long chalkboard covered the front wall. The only thing in the room made in the current century was an electronic display screen hanging from the ceiling.
A gray-bearded man walked in wearing a broad smile that revealed a gap in his front teeth. He stood in front of the room as if he was on stage after a standing ovation.
“Mirëmëngjesi. Si jeni?” the man said brightly. “This means ‘Good morning. How are you?’ Please, say it with me.”
The entire class repeated the greeting several times before Professor Hoxha introduced himself. He eagerly explained how they would learn essentials of the beautiful Albanian language and be introduced to the breathtaking country of Albania. Professor Hoxha and the class repeated more phrases and looked at pictures of Albanian coastal villages on the room’s electronic display.
“These beaches along the Aegean Sea are the most beautiful in the world,” Professor Hoxha insisted.
Connor watched the screen and imitated the Albanian phrases. Eighty minutes passed harmlessly and Connor figured he would skip most future lectures and still get a decent grade. Then Professor Hoxha announced his old-school attendance policy. He would take roll and any unexcused absence would result in a Fail. Connor stomped out of the little classroom cursing under his breath about the broken educational system that trivialized his time.
Each Intro to Albanian lecture followed the same pattern. Professor Hoxha began with the standard “Good morning” greeting. The class practiced phrases they had learned and tried new ones. But most of the time was devoted to Albania itself. They reviewed culture and cuisine. They watched videos and admired photos of different cities and regions. They learned that Albanians were the friendliest people in the world living in the most beautiful country. Professor Hoxha deserved an award from Albania’s tourism and propaganda ministry.
Connor grew to think of the basement classroom as a dungeon. He resented every minute locked inside. Most painful of all, he was paying for the experience with his tuition. Instead of taking a class like Financial Instruments that would help him get ahead in the real world, he was stuck in what felt like the college equivalent of a meeting to convince him to buy a time-share property.
Despite his frustration, Connor faithfully attended all his classes and graduated on time. A week later he started at Peacock Financial, which was located close to the university, but seemed to Connor a world away. He would finally see more than a textbook view of how companies ran. Peacock actually did all the things Connor had learned theoretically: banking, risk assessment, financial analysis, and investing. Connor was about to coolly make multi-million-dollar decisions and thrive under all the pressure. Or so he thought.
The reality of Connor’s new work life was that he did not make decisions at all, unless he counted deciding where to pick up lunch for the senior executives. He spent most of his time coordinating meetings or looking up facts and figures that were probably ignored. He made travel plans for other people and was treated like the administrative assistant for everyone working on his floor. He was not quite sure who his real boss was. If anyone wanted something as trivial as a purple highlighting pen or a foot massage ball, Connor had to find it.
As Connor returned from his latest trip to an office supply store, he had the terrifying realization that he could have skipped college altogether and been equally prepared for his job. And he did not see a way forward. The people in charge at Peacock treated him like he was office furniture. If something did not drastically change, he would be mindlessly running errands and ordering sandwiches forever.
About the only slightly interesting thing Connor was assigned was planning the upcoming visit for a big potential customer. Even then, he was only part of a team and not trusted with any critical decisions. He did the grunt work of calling around to hotels, restaurants, and golf courses for reservations.
The new client, a company called JPT Freight, owned a fleet of trucks and ships, but no one at Peacock seemed to have met in-person with the JPT executives. If the impending deal went through, Peacock would handle all financial transactions for JPT as they expanded their operation across the country. And with all the extra work, Peacock Financial would need to almost double in size.
On the first day of the JPT visit, everyone in the Peacock offices was fixated on how things were going. Negative rumors spread. Apparently, the JPT CEO was gruff and hard to read. He was not impressed with Peacock’s people and what once seemed like a sure thing turned not-so-sure.
Part of the visit’s second day included a floor-by-floor tour of Peacock’s building. Connor wore a suit and stood in a lineup of the youngest employees outside of their cubicle maze. They were ordered to look professional and competent when the JPT procession passed by.
The meet-and-greet time was delayed twice, but Connor continued to stand at attention. He mumbled to himself about wasting time until the herd of company dignitaries appeared in the hallway. Near the front was a bearded man who was obviously the JPT CEO. He looked familiar but Connor could not remember how they might possibly have met. The man began shaking hands with Peacock employees and was introduced as Mr. Hoxha.
Connor suddenly remembered his Albanian teacher who shared the same name. The two men looked so alike, they might be brothers. As the JPT CEO got closer, Connor argued with himself over mentioning the similarity. Maybe it was best to simply smile quietly like everyone else. Then again, what did he have to lose by attempting a little connection?
Mr. Hoxha solemnly shook hands with each new Peacock employee. He nodded boringly and did not bother asking for names or job titles. Connor waited for his turn, swallowed hard, and loudly said, “Mirëmëngjesi. Si jeni?”
The CEO’s face lit up as he replied, “Ju flisni shqip?”
Connor recognized the question to mean “You speak Albanian?” He did not want to embarrass himself with poor pronunciation, so he replied in English, “Only a little. I studied in college. I mostly know about how beautiful the country is.”
Mr. Hoxha smiled in return and wanted to know all about Connor’s class.
“My professor was named Hoxha too. From Tirana. Maybe you’re related.”
“Probably,” the CEO replied with a laugh. “Did he tell you about the food?”
Connor and Mr. Hoxha ignored everyone around them as they talked fondly of Albania. “I wish you were from there,” Mr. Hoxha said, “But having someone around who appreciates Albania is the next best thing. Are you available to join me in today’s meetings?”
Connor looked around at the other Peacock employees before nodding his head and saying, “Sure!”
In those few short moments, Connor went from being a nameless new hire to the guy who saved the JPT deal. When JPT became Peacock’s largest client by far, Connor took on a prominent role as a special friend of Mr. Hoxha. He made multi-million-dollar decisions every day, starting with a complete analysis of JPT’s finances. His business classes transformed overnight from useless to necessary. And he owed it all to the most useless class he was ever forced to take.
Please remember to subscribe for weekly reminders about new stories. You can subscribe by clicking here: Subscribe. You can also follow new content on any Podcast platform or on YouTube.