During the closing decade of the 80s, I was embarking on a backpacking trip to the European continent with a friend. Because my companion was exploring starting a postgraduate program in NYC, we had booked a fortnight visit there before heading to London.
We arrived at the postgrad residence, a sizeable 10-storey building on the Upper West Side named International House. After dropping our bags, we headed straight to the dining hall, where we got some food, found a table, and began chatting with other diners.
Beside me was an individual of Iraqi origin enrolled in an engineering program at Columbia University. He inquired what I my profession was, and I told him that I had recently completed my studies with a science degree and had been performing experiments involving microscopic analysis.
He noted that there was an research lab at the institution – right next door to the engineering department, which was the reason he was familiar with it. He recommended that I should apply for a job with them. I chuckled at the suggestion, explaining that I was about to fly to Europe and, additionally, I lacked a US visa.
The following day I ventured out, coming back to the dining hall that night. The engineering student approached me and let me know that he had organized a discussion for me with the leader of the research team at Columbia. Because he had gone to the trouble, I attended the interview – but immediately told my prospective employer that I was without a work permit, so I was likely not a suitable candidate.
As is common in NYC – a metropolis where anything feels possible – she responded: “That can be arranged. What's your start date?” I missed my plane to London.
I was employed there for three years. An advantage of the role was that I also received complimentary education at Columbia, and I used the opportunity to earn a postgrad program in international relations.
We didn't cross paths after that and I can't recall his full name, but his selfless gesture altered my destiny in so many ways. I lacked the confidence or self-belief to reach out at an Ivy League university and seek a position. Additionally, I had consistently hoped to study abroad, but could never have afforded it without that tuition waiver.
Perhaps most importantly, that job in New York paved the way for a job in Zurich where I met my beautiful French husband, with whom I am raising four amazing children. That encounter altered everything. That benevolent individual redirected my path in life, and I’m forever grateful.
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