“Fifteen. We try to keep the camper-to-counselor ratio as low as possible, while offering scholarships to as many of the kids as we can. New-participant numbers remain fairly steady, but the returning campers have to keep a clean legal record and pass several random drug tests if they have a history, in addition to maintaining an acceptable grade point average. As you probably already know, the camp focuses on junior high and high school-aged kids. Each counselor usually has around ten kids on his or her team.”
“So only nine counselors make the cut to become a Durand manager,” she reflected. “Do you honestly think that this setup—a summer camp on the shores of Lake Michigan for three weeks—really gives Durand the information it needs to hire top notch executives?” she asked skeptically. “It seems a little”—silly, she said in the privacy of her brain—“odd to expect business graduate students to have the necessary experience. We’re not social workers or teachers. Or babysitters.”
He flashed her a glance when she mumbled the last under her breath.
“You’re not expected to be any of those. Well . . . maybe teacher, but not in the classic sense. There are regular, experienced staff at Camp Durand—cabin and grounds supervisors around the clock. It’s true, though, that the counselors play a crucial role in the camper’s experience. The Durand counselors are, essentially, the face of leadership and support to each individual camper. We offer a weeklong training period to the counselors, so they know what to expect. That training program is similar to many management retreats utilized around the world by companies to hone leadership skills. But that’s only the beginning. Then the kids arrive, and the challenge really begins. What’s required to succeed as a counselor—and as a Durand executive—is a large measure of ingenuity, leadership, people skills, and humanity. Those are qualities we’ve been unable to measure adequately from a resume, recommendation letters—which are almost always glowing—and a few interviews. Camp Durand works for us, no matter how unconventional it may seem. It’s worked for us for decades. The executive contestants are under nearly constant observation for four weeks: one week of training and the three weeks while the children are there. Their schedule is arduous. They’re considered to be on the clock from seven thirty in the morning until nine p.m., when the night supervisory staff takes over for them. They’re expected to work Saturdays until three, with only Sundays off. It’s not enough to brag about qualities of leadership, planning, intelligence, innovation, salesmanship, compassion, determination, hard work, and courage: The counselors have to demonstrate those skills daily with a group of children, some of whom have been labeled as criminal, uncooperative, manipulative, lazy, or unreachable. It’s a lot harder than it sounds at first blush,” he said, his mild tone in direct contrast to his lancing stare.
“So Durand does it again. It combines philanthropy—no, it uses it—to optimize the bottom line.”
His smile was closemouthed, slashing . . . dangerous.
“Yes, I understand. That’s the way you would view it,” he mused as if to himself, sounding not at all concerned by her pessimism as he leaned back in his chair. His stare on her made her feel like a wreck he was considering making into a project. It was a cold, sharp knife, that stare, so Alice couldn’t figure out why it made her sweat so bad.
“Would you be adverse to accepting a position at such a seemingly mercenary organization?” he asked.
“No,” she replied without pause.
His gleaming brows arched. “Ah. So you’re a little mercenary yourself.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m not stupid, if that’s what you mean.”
He gave a gruff bark of laughter. “No one could accuse you of stupidity,” he said with a swift glance at her paperwork spread across the desk. He stood abruptly. Alice jumped up like she’d been released after being held down on springs.
“This has been enlightening,” he said briskly, holding out his hand. They shook. “We’ll be making our decision on finalists for Camp Durand within the next two weeks. Chicago-area colleges and universities were Sebastian Kehoe’s last stop on the recruitment tour. We’ll be in contact.”
“Right.”
His eyes flashed. She grimaced. She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but recognized she had. Well, at least this fiasco was over with. Now she had all the valuable interviewing experience either she or Maggie could ever want for her. Everything after Dylan Fall would be trite. She had a future full of cakewalk interviews before she landed her new, realistic job.
Probably a boring, entry-level, menial one given the current job market.
She turned to go.
“Alice.”
She came to an abrupt halt, pausing in the action of reaching for the door. She didn’t care for the fact that she looked over her shoulder with a measure of eagerness. It was hard not to crave every glance she could get of Dylan Fall. Despite the fact that he intimidated her, he was one hell of a sight.
“I know a man—he’s a member of the Durand board, in fact—who grew up in the Austin neighborhood on the west side of Chicago,” Fall said. “Are you familiar with that neighborhood?”
She studied him narrowly, trying to see his angle and failing. “Yeah. It’s one of the worst in the city.”