I'm Not Your Mentor - 4. Chapter 4: Car Problems

4. Wait Before You Give Advice

Don’t just jump in with a list of prescriptions and solutions. Listen to your mentee, and be sure you understand what their problems are, and what they want from you. Unwanted advice will be ignored, leading to frustration on both sides.

— Employee Handbook: Mentoring

  

  

The lunch hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped, but it could have gone worse. There had been no hysterics, and no attempted blackmail, so at least my worst fears hadn’t been realized.

The exercise had been worth trying, even if I hadn’t really believed that Jonah would be happy about suspending contact between us. Why would anyone invest so much effort in getting my attention, and then simply give up?

And Jonah definitely seemed to be trying to get my attention. He wasn’t trying to get answers to questions, or understand what had happened, or even just wanting to say a last goodbye. He had wanted us to date, which was just impossible.

In a bit of a funk—because I didn’t know what to do next—I walked out of the restaurant, got into my car, and started driving back to Lexington. As I drove, I wondered if there was something more I could have said, and more troublingly, what Jonah’s next move might be. The lunch hadn’t placated him, and I suspected that he wasn’t going to give up. I was in a dangerous situation.

I’d have to talk to Karen in HR, tell her what was going on, and get her advice. It would be protecting myself in a couple of ways; both in alerting the company officially, and getting my version of the story on the record before Jonah did. Also, I could get her perspective. Karen was a friend, and I trusted her judgment, and if I had to tell anyone, she was the person I would choose.

I wasn’t happy about this option, but if Jonah wasn’t going to listen to sense, then it seemed my only choice. Maybe Karen could speak to him, and it might put a fright in him. Not that she would ever threaten him, but if he was aware that HR knew about us, perhaps it might make him think his job was in danger? Maybe that would get him to leave me alone?

But it was a challenging game to play. I knew I couldn’t say anything to Jonah about his job, as that would come across as a threat and possible harassment.

It was all so complicated.

I was still pondering whether telling Karen was a good idea, when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw that it was Jonah. I debated answering. I’d just left him fifteen minutes ago. What could he want? Was this another attempt on his part to get me to change my mind?

"What?” I answered testily.

"Um, hey,” Jonah said tentatively, the bravado had evaporated from his voice.

"What?” I repeated with a little less hostility in my voice.

"I’ve got a bit of a problem,” he said softly, almost inaudibly.

"What?” I repeated because I could barely hear him. It was like he was whispering.

"My car won’t start,” Jonah said.

"It won’t start?”

"Nothing. Turn the ignition and nothing. Someone tried giving me a jump, but it didn’t do anything. They’re telling me it might be my starter motor.”

"Who is?” I asked.

"This guy that was here. I think I need a tow truck.”

"Do you have Triple-A?” I asked him.

"No,” he said. And then hesitantly, Jonah added. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any money.”

I felt like I was being sucked into a catastrophe. But I couldn’t just leave Jonah there, as much as I felt like doing so.

"I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Stay there,” I said.

"Okay,” Jonah said, the relief clear in his voice.

 

When I pulled into the restaurant parking lot, I saw Jonah leaning against the hood of his car. He gave me a small embarrassed wave of recognition as I parked a couple of spots away from him.

"It just wouldn’t start,” Jonah explained as I walked over to him, and it was clear that he was worried, almost panicked. Usually, Jonah appeared very confident—always acting as if he was in total control—but now there was something about the way he stood, the way he spoke, that looked like he was on the edge of falling apart.

I looked at him, and then at the car.

"Someone tried jumping it?” I asked, figuring I should keep things as business-like as possible.

"Ah…Yeah.”

"Did they seem to know what they were doing?” I asked.

"Ah, yeah, I think so.”

I figured that whoever Jonah had gotten help from, probably knew as much—or more—than I did. I’m not the most mechanically inclined, and the last time I jumped a car, I had to do a Google search for instructions.

I took out my wallet and found my Triple-A card, and then I dialed the number. It took only a few minutes before someone answered, took my details and told me it would be about half an hour before a tow truck would get there.

"Half an hour,” I told Jonah after I hung up.

"What are they going to do?” Jonah asked, his tone even more panicked than it was when I arrived.

"Try and get it started,” I shrugged, trying to keep my voice calm. Jonah’s panic was causing my own anxiety to rise. “If it won’t start, they’ll tow it.”

"Is it going to cost much?” Jonah asked, obviously concerned about paying for it.

"If they get it going, it won’t cost a thing. Same if they tow it. But it’ll cost to repair it if it needs that,” I pointed out.

Jonah nodded.

I glanced around, not sure what to do, and not feeling comfortable standing so close to him when he was so obviously upset.

"You want an ice cream?” I asked him. There was an ice cream stand in the back of the parking lot, and I thought getting an ice cream might distract us. The last thing I wanted to do was start re-litigating what we’d talked about at lunch.

Jonah looked surprised by the offer, but then he shook his head.

"No, thanks,” he said.

I nodded and wondered what else there was to talk about.

"Do you have jumper cables?” I asked him, thinking that to fill in time we could try to jump the car ourselves. Maybe we’d get lucky.

Jonah shook his head.

I didn’t have any either, so that killed that idea.

Just as I wondered what else to do, a tow truck pulled into the parking lot. It arrived so quickly I assumed it was for someone else, but the truck drove slowly towards us, and the guy leaned out the window of his door and yelled “Triple-A?” And I nodded.

He stopped the truck in front of us and got out and looked at Jonah’s car. Then he went and got a little box and some cables from the back of his truck, and spent ten minutes trying to jump the car. He even tried hitting the starter motor a few times with a mallet, because he said sometimes that would fix the starter temporarily, but nothing worked.

"Gonna have to tow it,” he finally said.

Jonah said nothing, and I realized he was leaving me to deal with the situation. And then I remembered that Jonah had said he didn’t have any money, so obviously, he couldn’t say anything.

I showed the guy my Triple-A card and asked if he could tow it to the place I used to repair my Jeep. The driver said it was inside the mile limit, and it wouldn’t cost me extra. I thanked him, told him we’d make our own way back, and gave him a twenty-dollar tip.

While he loaded up the car, I called the garage and let them know that the car was coming. The tow truck operator worked astonishingly quickly, and he’d left before I finished the phone call with the repair shop.

After we watched the truck leave, I pointed at my car.

"Come on then,” I said to Jonah.

Jonah nodded and followed me over to the car.

 

Jonah was mute for the first fifteen minutes of the trip. But then, he’d been unusually quiet since I’d arrived back at the car park.

"Thanks for…uh,” he finally began hesitantly.

"It’s okay,” I said. It occurred to me that this could work to my advantage. Jonah might be so embarrassed by this turn of events that it would stop him from trying to pursue anything with me.

"How much do you think it’ll cost if it’s the starter motor?” Jonah asked. His voice sounded strained.

"I don’t know. Maybe around $400? Maybe more, maybe less?”

"Four hundred? Really?” Jonah asked, and he genuinely sounded surprised. I wondered if he’d ever had to pay for car repairs.

"I don’t know,” I admitted, though I was sure it would be closer to $400 then $4.

"Fuck,” he mumbled.

"I could be wrong…”

"I don’t have it,” Jonah mumbled.

"You don’t?”

"No. Fuck! Can you call the tow truck and tell them not to take it to the garage?”

I was puzzled by his outburst, but I tried to remain calm.

"What do you want them to do with it?” I asked.

"I’ll just put it on the street until I can afford to fix it.”

"Well, let’s find out how much it is. Maybe you can afford it?” I tried to soothe him. He seemed to be getting more upset.

"I don’t have any money,” Jonah practically yelled at me.

"Okay. Okay. Calm down.”

"I just…fuck,” he groaned, and his face was screwed up in frustration.

"How much do you have?” I asked him.

"In the bank? Like ten dollars,” he said quietly.

"That’s all you have?”

"Until payday.”

I took a moment to digest this information, and then something occurred to me.

"Wasn’t yesterday payday?” I asked.

"Yeah,” Jonah agreed with me, his face reddening.

"You have ten dollars to last you two weeks?”

"I have a credit card,” Jonah said.

I sighed. Was Jonah living on his credit card? How long could that go on?

"How much do you have on that?”I asked.

"Available?”

"Yes.”

"Under a hundred,” he said.

I looked at him and could tell how embarrassed he was. "Can you get some money from your parents?” I asked him.

"I don’t have any.”

"Oh,” I said, feeling terrible for asking.

"I have some foster parents, but they’ve got nothing,” he said.

"Well, you’re working now. You’ll be better financially soon, right?”

Jonah pursed his lips, and it didn’t seem that my observation had given him any comfort. "Between my rent and college loans, I’ve got nothing left,” he said.

"Oh,” I said, concerned at how precarious his financial situation was. I’d been aware he had no money in New Orleans, but that was before he’d started his job. I had assumed that he would be in a much better situation now. And then another thought occurred to me. “How were you going to pay for lunch?” I asked him, remembering the short argument we’d had over who would pay.

"With the credit card,” Jonah said, looking away, his face and neck reddening even more.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

The rest of the trip continued in awkward silence. I didn’t know what to say, and it felt like anything I might say would be the wrong thing.

Jonah had given me his address in Somerville, and I drove straight there. It was only as we pulled up outside the three-story house that he started talking again.

"Thanks for driving me home,” he said quietly.

"You’re welcome,” I said, almost automatically, as I put the car into park and looked over to him. “I’ll let you know what the garage says.”

Jonah shrugged. "Unless it’s ten bucks, I can’t afford it,” Jonah said dejectedly.

"Well, don’t give up just yet,” I said, and then I pulled out my wallet. I had almost two hundred dollars in cash, and I pulled the notes out and held them out to Jonah.

"Here,” I said.

Jonah looked at the money like I was offering him a bag of dog shit.

"I can’t take that,” he said.

"It’s a loan,” I shrugged. Maybe it was a go-away bribe. If it got Jonah away from me, I was willing to pay it.

Jonah shook his head. "That wouldn’t be right. You know, you’re my superior. Giving me money. That wouldn’t be right.”

It felt like Jonah was throwing my words back in my face.

"Don’t be a jerk,” I said. “Take it.”

"I can’t. Unless you want to come in and fuck me, and then you can pay me. We can keep it professional that way.”

I looked at him, and he stared back at me angrily.

"Are you done with the temper tantrum?”

"No,” Jonah snapped, and he turned and reached out to open the door, but I grabbed his left arm and pulled him back towards me.

Jonah glared at me, and for a moment I wondered if we were going to get into a physical altercation in the car.

And to think that this morning I thought my problem was that I’d slept with him. If this turned into something violently physical…and then I realized that I’d already grabbed him pretty forcefully and that alone might be considered restraint.

I released his arm, but watched him closely, half expecting him to run. When Jonah stayed sitting, I hoped we could have a calmer conversation.

"How are you going to pay for the car if you don’t have money?” I asked him, trying to talk slowly and calmly.

"I don’t know,” Jonah said, irritation in his voice.

"So take this,” I said softly, holding the money out to him, “and you’ll pay me back later.”

"And what if I can’t pay it back?” he asked coldly.

"Then we’ll discuss the sex options,” I said, and I smiled. I meant it as a joke, but Jonah just stared at me, and I realized it was a horrible joke, given the circumstances.

"I’m sorry,” I said. “That was a really bad joke. Take the money. Please. It’s a loan.”

Jonah stared at me for a long moment, and then he reached out and took the money, and then he turned quickly, opened the door and got out of the car.

Jonah didn’t say goodbye or thank you, he just slammed the door shut.

Driving home, I realized that I didn’t know where things stood.

 

By the time I got home I was wondering how much more fucked up, this whole thing could get. The lunch had been my last best hope to get rid of Jonah, and now I didn’t know if things were worse.

I just wanted to do everything reasonable before getting HR involved, and possibly costing Jonah his job. But I hadn’t expected more entanglements.

When I got home, I called Erik at the garage. Erik confirmed that Jonah’s car had arrived, but he said that he hadn’t looked at it yet. I told him it wouldn’t start, told him to fix that, and I asked him also to check out the car and see if it needed any other work done either for safety or overdue repairs.

Erik said he’d call me Monday.

I texted Jonah and let him know that we wouldn’t know the cost of the repair until Monday.

Jonah didn’t reply.

Sunday, I spent a rather frustrating day wondering where this was going, and not being happy about any of my conclusions. Jonah was clearly upset, and even though it wasn’t my fault his car had broken down, I worried about what he might do now that he was stressed.

 

Monday morning, there were no new revelations in my work email, though that wasn’t a surprise as I had made a point of checking my email about a dozen times on Sunday.

Around 11 am, Erik from the garage called me.

"It needs a few things,” he said matter-of-factly. And then he explained that, yes, the starter motor needed to be replaced, but there were a few other things that also needed fixing. The front tires needed replacing, all the brake shoes needed to be replaced, and the back struts were bad.

"How much?”

"For everything?” he’d asked.

"Yeah.”

"About two thousand, five hundred,” he said.

"Is it worth it? Would it be better to get something else?”

There was a long pause, as though he was thinking seriously about the question. “Oh,” he said, “I’d fix it and keep it. The car is otherwise in good condition. It should go another 100,000 miles at least.”

"Okay,” I said. “Do the repairs, and bill me for everything but $100. And would you tell Jonah it’ll cost $100 to fix the starter, and don’t tell him I paid for the rest.”

"If you want,” said Erik, not even seeming to be curious about these odd financial arrangements.

I gave him Jonah’s phone number, but I told him that I would have Jonah call him. Then I texted Jonah and told him to call the garage, and that it was good news, it would be about $100.

Jonah still didn’t reply. Hopefully, he hadn’t spent the money I had given him.

I was kind of glad he didn’t reply. With a bit of luck, he’d be embarrassed enough about what had happened, that he wouldn’t pursue a relationship with me any further. I didn’t want Jonah to feel bad about himself, but more than that, I wanted him to stop calling me or trying to get in contact. If it required a little embarrassment, I could live with it.

For the next three days, I didn’t hear anything from Jonah, and I was starting to think that my problem had been solved.

Thursday I was sitting in my office, going through a few things with my assistant Diana, when I noticed someone hovering in the open doorway. I looked up and saw Jonah standing there.

Jonah looked at me questioningly.

"I’ll be five minutes,” I said to him, and he nodded and stepped back and waited by the empty cubicle across from my office door.

Diana and I finished up our discussion, and then she left, reminding me of a meeting I had in ten minutes.

I waited, and Jonah hesitantly came to the door.

"Hey,” he said softly. At least he seemed much calmer than he had the last time I’d seen him.

"Hi. What can I do for you?” I asked, trying to keep things neutral.

Jonah came into the office.

"I uh…I…” he stuttered, and then he pulled out a long sheet of paper.

"What’s that?” I asked.

"It’s the statement from the garage.”

"You got your car back?”

"Yeah.”

"All fixed?” I asked.

"Yeah,” and he grinned widely. “It’s great.”

And then Jonah put the paper on my desk and looked at me challengingly.

"What’s the problem?” I asked him.

"He did all that, and charged me one hundred dollars.”

"Okay,” I said nodding, not sure what I should say. Saying nothing seemed to be the safest option. I had hoped that Erik would bill him the $100 and not tell him about the other repairs. I guess I should have been more explicit when I had spoken to him.

"Or $99.95 to be precise,” said Jonah.

"Okay,” I said.

"I’m not stupid,” he said quietly.

"I never thought you were.”

"I can’t accept this,” Jonah said.

I picked up the paper and held it out to him.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, being careful not to stare into his eyes and give anything away.

Jonah stared at me, his face a frown.

"Is there anything else you need help with?” I asked him.

Jonah stood there for a second or two, and then he took the paper, and he turned and walked out without saying a word.

I felt a bit sad to see him go, but hopefully, this would be the end of it. He would stop trying to contact me and things would go back to normal.

The following day I came in to find fifty dollars sitting on my desk in an envelope with my name written on it. I didn’t recognize the writing, but I had only lent money to one person in the company, and people didn’t usually leave bribes on my desk.

Jonah was more obstinate than I had guessed.

I asked Diana to set up a half-hour meeting with Jonah Harris, and then I went into the Learning Management System and accepted the invitation to be Jonah’s mentor. He’d forgotten—or never intended—to cancel the application.

After lunch, Jonah turned up at my office. I asked him in and had him close the door.

The Jonah of today seemed different again from the Jonah of yesterday. Yesterday he’d seemed unsure, a little shy, almost diffident. The Jonah of today seemed much more confident. Confident enough to be putting on an air of disinterest. I wondered if I wasn’t in for more problems than I’d expected.

"I can’t accept this,” I said, putting the money on the desk in front of him and indicating he should sit.

Jonah gave me a look of joking-puzzlement as he sat down in the chair across from me. He obviously intended to act innocent, or oblivious.

"I’m just paying back what I owe you. In installments,” Jonah finally said.

I’d been expecting him to say something like that. “I need to see your budget,” I said.

"What?” Jonah asked, slightly shocked, and I grinned to myself. I had to keep him on the back foot if I was going to get myself out of this.

"As a lender, I need to see your budget. You know, how much you spend and how much you take in.” I paused, then added casually, “have that done for our next meeting.”

"Next meeting?”

"Yeah,” I glanced at my calendar. I didn’t seriously plan to mentor Jonah, but I figured we could meet a few times and get things sorted out for him.

"How about Monday? At 1? Are you free? It should only take fifteen minutes.”

"Ah, okay,” Jonah said, now sounding unsure. He obviously hadn’t expected this response, though I wondered what he had thought I was going to do.

I held out the money. “Keep this until we work out how much you’re going to pay,” I said. I figured that being as business-like as possible was the best way to proceed.

Jonah sat there staring at the money in my hand for a moment, and then he reached out, grabbed it, and got up and walked out.

 

Jonah turned up the following Monday with a single sheet of paper that he handed to me as he sat down.

There were only a few things listed on the page, including; rent, internet, phone, school loans, and a minimum credit card payment in the left column. On the other side of the page, it listed his bi-weekly salary.

"This is your budget?” I asked him.

Jonah had been glancing around the office, almost uninterested in what I was doing. He stopped looking about and turned back to face me, an expression of disinterest on his face.

"Ah, yeah?” he said, making it sound like a question.

"So you don’t eat, you don’t buy gas? Or pay for electricity or heat?”

"Oh,” Jonah said, clearly surprised.

I handed it back to him.

"Can you do this properly, or do we need to work on it together?”

"You were serious?” Jonah asked incredulously.

"Yes. What did you think? I just wanted you to make up three numbers, and then we’d do something else?”

"No,” he said, but Jonah didn’t add anything else.

I stared at him for a moment, but he just sat there, looking a little uncomfortable.

"I’ll set up another meeting,” I finally said.

"Okay,” Jonah said, sounding defeated.

“How long do you think it’ll take you?”

He shrugged.

“Okay, well send it to me when you’ve finished it,” I said. “Once I get it, I’ll set up another meeting.”

Jonah nodded slowly, and then got up and left.

Ten minutes later, an email arrived from him containing a spreadsheet. It listed all his expenses for the last three months, and his income and debts. He’d obviously had all the information before he’d come to my office. It was also clear that as long as he didn’t spend more than $10 a week on food, and had no other incidental expenses—which was very unlikely—he was still more than $150 a month short.

I set up a meeting for the next morning.

Jonah showed up five minutes early, acting shy and nervous again.

"So you had the information, why did you bring that other sheet yesterday?” I asked Jonah as he sat down. I was trying to avoid small talk with him.

Jonah looked down, but I waited.

"I didn’t really think you were going to go through it,” he said to the floor, and then he looked up. “I thought you were just going to tell me I spent too much on the phone or internet,” and then he shrugged.

"Okay, so you are spending more than you’re making. Any thoughts?

Jonah pursed his lips. "I have an interview to work at a movie theater on the weekends,” he said slowly.

While I appreciated his initiative, I wasn’t sure that was the best solution. But I didn’t discourage it.

"When do you think you might start?”

"I haven’t interviewed yet,” he said.

"Oh,” and it occurred to me that he was going to be in financial difficulties for at least a month, even if he got the job.

"How’d you get into this situation?” I asked.

An expression of almost pain passed over his face. "I had some savings, but they’re all gone,” he replied obliquely.

"What about a cheaper apartment?” I suggested.

Jonah shrugged. “I have a lease, and I don’t know if I can find anywhere cheaper anyway. Places are expensive.”

"Yeah,” I agreed.

I wanted to give him $500 to help him, but I knew he wouldn’t take it from me, and worse, I shouldn’t just keep giving him money. With the car repairs, and the cash I had given him, how much had I already “loaned” him? I seemed to be getting dragged further into this, rather than extricating myself. I had to figure out a way to get him financially stable, and get him away from me.

And then I had a brilliant idea.

You know how sometimes you have a brilliant idea, and then a few minutes later you realize that it was a totally stupid idea, and you wonder what on earth possessed you to think it was a good idea? Well, I had one of those.

I had been meaning to repaint my deck but hadn’t bothered to call anyone about it. Maybe, it occurred to me, I could have Jonah paint the deck, and pay him so that he’d have money to tide him over? At least until he started the second job—assuming he got a second job. I liked the idea so much, I just plowed ahead with it, not even stopping to think that this would mean him coming over to my place.

On the weekend.

"You ever done any painting?” I asked him. “I have a deck that needs painting.”

"Painting?” he asked blankly.

"Yeah, you know, with a brush and a can of paint, and you apply the paint to the surface with the brush.”

Jonah regarded me skeptically. “I do know what painting is.”

"Have you ever done it before?”

"Not much,” he said, shrugging. “I painted the wall of my bedroom once.”

"How’d that turn out?”

Jonah shrugged again, which didn’t tell me anything.

"Well, if you don’t think you’re…”

"No, I’ll do it,” he said unenthusiastically. “What’ll you pay?”

"Uh…” I hadn’t thought about that. What was fair? I wanted to pay him well, but I didn’t want to pay him more than was reasonable. It had to appear to be above board. “How about $30 an hour? It’s probably a couple of days work,” I asked, figuring he could make $300 as it would probably take a bit more than a day to do the whole thing.

His eyes widened. “When?” Jonah asked, sounding more interested.

"This weekend? You doing anything?”

Jonah shook his head.

I took a piece of notepaper and wrote my address on it.

"Here, how does 9 am on Saturday work for you?”

"Okay,” Jonah said, and then he stood up, and he just stood there for a moment.

"Anything else?” I asked him.

"Ah, no. I guess not. I’ll ah…see you Saturday,” Jonah said, but he was so hesitant that I, naively, thought this was a good sign. If Jonah had seemed suddenly very enthusiastic, I probably would have immediately had seconds thoughts.

"Okay,” I said, as Jonah turned, and I watched him walk out of my office. Watching him go, I remembered the tight blue jeans he’d worn that first day I’d met him.

Jonah had been gone less than a minute when I realized what a colossal mistake I had just made. Inviting him over to my house? To spend the day? What was I thinking?!

And paying him more money? This was turning into a bigger mess.

I thought about calling Jonah and canceling, but I worried what that would mean. I’d offered him a solution, and then I’d be taking it away from him.

Could I just give him the money, I wondered? That was a bad idea too. Probably worse.

The more I thought about it, the worse all the options seemed. Why had I done that? He wasn’t my problem, and I’d gone and made him a huge problem! Why had I gone back to help him in the parking lot? Why had I given him money when I’d dropped him home? And why had I paid to get his car repaired and offered to help him sort out his financial problems?

It had all seemed reasonable—in the moment—but now it all looked much, much worse than the couple of days I’d spent having sex with him in New Orleans.

And I wasn’t even getting any sex!

I tried to calm down. I was probably blowing this all out of proportion I told myself. Maybe it would be okay, I just had to make sure this was platonic.

It wasn’t like I didn’t need to get the deck painted. I was helping Jonah by letting him work for some extra money. The best thing to do would be to show him what needed painting, and then go out for the rest of the day and leave him to it. That way, I wouldn’t be tempted.

I still considered texting Jonah, and telling him I’d changed my mind, and that the deck didn’t need repainting.

But I didn’t.

 

To be continued…