Profiles in Courage

The reference to the Khmer Rouge in the previous post sent me on a trip down memory lane that I'd like to get down on "paper," so to speak.

As most readers will know, 10 years ago I was manager of a Social Security office on the north side of a large American city. One of my employees was a young Vietnamese fellow who, through intelligence and long hours, was on his way up in the organization. If you remember the scene of helicopters on top of the American Embassy in Saigon (and everybody who was alive then must surely remember that), then you would have seen him as an 8-year-old, climbing up a ladder to the helicopter on the roof. His father had been an officer in the South Vietnamese Army, but was killed in action. He and his mother spent some time in a refuge camp outside the United States (I think it was in Thailand), but were eventually admitted to a "boat people" camp in the South, and he spent the rest of his years until high school graduation in that Southern state. So he spoke English with a decidedly Southern accent, which was hilarious to hear coming out of a Vietnamese mouth.

This fellow, who I'll call George, was for a while my entrée to the huge Asian community in my office's service area, since he was very active and well known there. Once, when I had an opportunity to hire a new employee (which didn't happen often) I asked him to help me interview applicants. Of course, George had put out word in the Asian community that I was hiring, and I received applications from many immigrants who had become United States citizens.

One applicant, referred by George, was an older Cambodian man. George told me ahead of time the man had been a professor at a university in Phnom Penh, but became a marked man when the Khmer Rouge took over. He fled into the jungle, and lived there for two years, hiding. When the Khmer Rouge fell, he was able to emigrate to the United States, but could find employment only in an auto repair shop. He arrived for the interview in his work clothes, with dirt under his fingernails. I think he had come directly from changing someone's tires. I respected the man's history, though, and someone fluent in Cambodian would have been a great addition to my office.

But he could barely speak English. I found myself having to repeat questions, searching for words he could understand, and asking him to repeat his answers so I could pick out words that I understood. Of course, I could not hire him for the interviewing position I was trying to fill.

After the interview, George and I talked about the man. Looking to help him save face after referring an obviously unqualified person, I said, "Well, he was probably nervous about the job interview."

But George would have none of that. "Bob," he said, "this guy lived in the jungle for two years, hiding from the Khmer Rouge. He's not going to get nervous about a job interview!"

And I guess George would know.