"So what can I do for you Mr. Brighting?"
"Well Sir, I've been thinking about my placement at the end of the course. I've a somewhat special request to make..."
"I'm pleased to hear it. You're a talented young man, Simon and I've already been at work to pulling a few strings for you. If all goes well, then I hope to be able to get you an excellent placement in Rennes. There's even the possibility of your staying on there, as the assistant director is moving on at the end of the school year. And as a result of my efforts your way in should be quite smooth."
The ensuing silence was long enough to make him feel ill at ease. Still I didn't know what to say.
"Well, I expected you to be pleased and surprised but I did think you'd have something to say about it."
I did, and this complete misinterpretation of my reaction woke me to my anger. But I first tried the diplomatic approach.
"I very much appreciate your trouble on my behalf, Sir, but I'm afraid that just won't be possible. As you know, or should know, I've been sent here to prepare the opening of the new espace loisirs in Gensdouce. I'm just not available for another posting."
"Gensdouce? Where on earth is Gensdouce? I'm not talking about some mundane, little, backwater municipality; I'm talking about Rennes, the big city, your big opportunity."
Silence being the only answer I managed to muster, he went on.
"Well now, I'm glad to see that you agree with that, at least. When I got the letter from Javert asking me to do what I could for you, I agreed at once. We were old college friends, you know and we still get together every year at the annual gathering for Mayors. Of course, Gensdouce is only the beginning of his ambitions, and as such it'll do fine, but in a few years I quiet expect him to move onto better things. Anyway, when I got his request to take you in here, and to find you a good post somewhere, I took you in on his behalf. But now I realise you have real talent. You can go to the top, young man, and you should be forever grateful to Javert Demille for providing you with your big opportunity."
I can't remember anything more about this conversation, nor about how I reacted. I remained in a state of trance for the next few hours, and I saw only one way out. I phoned up a couple of friends and we hit the town. But the bottle after bottle only kindled my anger further, so instead of going back to bed to sleep it off, I ended up on the first train to Paris. From there, it was just two hours to home.
Labels: 3WW, Irishman in France, Sunday Scribblings
Anonymous said...
Under the circumstances, what else could he do?
Great going..
bag and baggage
31 January 2008 at 13:21
anthonynorth said...
When reality hits, we make choices.
1 February 2008 at 11:28
paisley said...
horn swaggled!!!!!
1 February 2008 at 17:14
Anonymous said...
Sometimes, we are able to see our path distinctly and clearly and know exactly what to do. Despite the anger and frustration -- I do like the gift of clarity that comes from dark events.
Something Foul Going on There
1 February 2008 at 19:26
Tumblewords: said...
Sometimes, going home is the better part of valour! Nice tale!
2 February 2008 at 01:46
TC said...
I'm glad he took off on his own: good for him.
4 February 2008 at 16:22
little wing writer said...
i loved the sense of this week's story.... from there it was just two hours to home ... makes sense to me...
5 February 2008 at 23:02