In memory of Mitch Bright

In memory of Mitch,

I learned the other day from a LinkedIn post by Elizabeth Garcia of the passing of Mitch Bright who I worked with at the Shirley Ryan AbilityLab, formerly the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago. Elizabeth's post was deeply moving and brought back many memories of Mitch, a few of which I'd like to share to honor his memory.

As anyone who knew Mitch would agree, he was what one might call 'a character', in the truly best sense of the term. Mitch was always ready to tell you a story, relate to you something about his family or his life, get you to at least crack a smile, and ideally to laugh out loud. Mitch could invent a joke about just any situation, and nine times out of ten, he was the butt of the joke or the one in the story who ultimately had learned a lesson. Mitch was endlessly self-effacing, joyful, generous of spirit, and deeply humane. 

But, a story. I first met Mitch when, as a newly minted Director of IT Operations, I was given the task of improving the performance and reputation of our Help Desk. I had the not so novel idea of conducting written technical screens of candidates to attempt to find the pearls in the vast seas of the labor market. In one such screening, in walks a rather short, slightly rumpled guy who definitely did not come from the same mold of itinerant IT contractors and technical school graduates who made up most of our applicant pool. Mitch, with the others, listens to my explanation of why they were being asked to take a written test, flips through a few pages, and with a shrug begins. 

Now I'd like to say that Mitch demonstrated remarkable technical prowess on that Help Desk exam, but that's not the case. While OK, his technical chops weren't exceptional and didn't actually meet the threshold I had set for moving on for an in-person interview. But clearly Mitch had figured this out while taking the test, and knew he had to improvise. So… Mitch decides to complete the test very slowly. So slowly, that only he and I remained in the conference room when all other candidates had turned in their tests and headed home for the evening.  Mitch then proceeds to tell me that he imagines he hadn't put in his very best effort that night, but that he had a number of life and work experiences that set him apart from the crowd, that he could hustle, that he could think for himself, that he could relate to people, and that he cared about the mission of RIC. He told me I'd never regret hiring him, and he was right, I never did.

I won't tell one of Mitch's stories, because you really had to know him to hear the humor. I will, instead pass along one of his memes. One of Mitch's 'opportunities' was that he was, culturally, a fish out of water. From Hobart, IN, a member of the Orthodox church, Mitch had ample reason to not fit in with his more urban and, generally, more secular peers. As a musician and performer, though, Mitch knew how to read a room and he cared enough to make connections with his co-workers on common ground. So, Mitch, knowing that I'm a nerd who grew up loving Star Trek, shared a laugh with me about this classic meme:

Rest in peace, Mitch. You are missed.