The Interview - Part III

“It’s true that we stopped doing exchanges with the French clubs several years ago, and for good reason,” the Grand Poobah sniffed. “But there has been interest expressed on their part to get involved in the program again, and so it’s been decided that we’ll send one student on a trial basis this year.”

“Actually I really had my heart set on Belgium,” I said, trying to sound firm, but not too desperate. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s guinea pig.

The Grand Poo-Bah eyed me a bit peevishly. “Well Laura the truth of the matter is this year we have far more applicants for French-speaking Belgium than we do available postings, so there is a good chance you may be sent to the Flemish-speaking part. At least with France you’ll be sure to learn French. You’ve really conveyed how important that is to you.”

The back of my kneecaps began to sweat. The Polyester Pants had me over a barrel. I wondered wildly what Dale Carnegie would do, but couldn’t remember him writing about any situations like this.

“And you seem very mature and capable, and, er…able to deal with the unexpected,” the Grand Poo-bah said. “That will be important in France.” Yeah, like when no-one shows up to pick you up at the airport.

I’m not that mature! I wanted to cry out. But where would that land me? I reasoned. Flanders?

Five pairs of eyes turned to me, all waiting for an answer.

The Grand Poo-Bah cleared his throat. “So Laura, I for one believe France is the best option for you. Do you agree?"

“France,” I echoed weakly, but if it was between France and Flanders...“I really had my heart set on Belgium," I answered, at last. "But France...sure, I guess I can give France a try."

With that, The Grand Poo-Bah smiled and closed my file with a triumphant slap of manila. To this day I still wonder how it could be that my whole life turning on its hinges made no noise at all.

And I also wish I could remember the Grand Poo-Bah's real name, so I could track him down and say merci.