Liselle tucked her long legs under her and stared at the man across the desk.  Her first instinct was to kick her feet under the chair like she used to as a child at the dinner table.  He father told her that kicking her feet was a nervous habit and she should be particularly aware of nervous habits while at an interview, just so they wouldn’t happen.  Nervous habits were, he assured, very unprofessional.  So Liselle didn’t kick her feet, didn’t chew on her bottom lip, and definitely didn’t neaten her hair.

Of course, keeping all these nervous habits in check meant that she wasn’t really listening to what the man was saying to her.  She gathered, though, from the bits and pieces that whatever it was, was much more important to him than it would ever be to her.  Her toe twitched.  Her legs wanted her kick.  Finally, it was more than she could take.

“Mister Wrightfurt-“ she interrupted that thin balding man in the middle of his family history. “I’m sorry if I’m being blunt, but I have travelled more trading voyages than anyone my age and am immensely experienced due to my father’s position in your company.  I lived and grew up by the sea and have spent my life being a negotiator between my parents and brothers.  With all due respect, sir, I think I’m qualified for this job and I want it.  I respect your history, but sir, I know it all already, and quite frankly, I don’t see the relevance.”

Liselle blew out the last sputtering of oxygen she had left and breathed in.  She felt renewed, as though she he just taken a midnight swim in the ocean.  It was wonderful.  She let the breath out again and prepared for the onslaught from the owner and proprietor of the Lantun Maritime Trading Service.

Wilson Wrightfurt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.  “Very bold, Miss Azor, very bold.”

All of her father’s good advice wilted as her legs unlocked and began to swing beneath her.  She tucked her hair behind her lips and chewed regretfully on her bottom lip.  Her father would kill her if she didn’t get this job, and jeopardized his own.  He would absolutely kill her.

“Sometimes,” Wilson Wrightfurt began, “as a negotiator, you need to stand up for yourself.  Or the other side will try to lure you into unfavorable negotiations.”  He leaned forward and set his elbows on the big mahogany desk, leaning on his fists and staring at her through thick glasses.  Liselle diverted her gaze to a hungry seagull perched on the windowsill.  “You can start tomorrow?”

She snapped her gaze back to him, “I- what?  Yes, yes of course!”  She smiled and jumped out of her rickety wooden chair.  “Thank you, Mister Wrightfurt!” She gripped his outstretched hand tight and shook it vigorously.  “I won’t let you down- I promise!”

Liselle raced out of the office and jumped on the dock.  Her father would be so relieved when she told him the excellent news.  They could use the extra money, since the mayor kept raising home taxes.  She stared up at the burning sun and grinned.  She would be early, tomorrow.


Word: Bold.  ||  Time: 15 minutes.  ||  Character: Liselle Azor.


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something to think about

"You know, I don't know if you'll understand this or not, but sometimes, even when I'm feeling very low, I'll see some little thing that will somehow renew my faith. Something like that leaf, for instance - clinging to its tree despite wind and storm. You know, that makes me think that courage and tenacity are about the greatest values a man can have. Suddenly my old confidence is back and I know things aren't half as bad as I make them out to be. Suddenly I know that with the strength of his convictions a man can move mountains, and I can proceed with full confidence in the basic goodness of my fellow man. I know that now. I know it." ~ End of Act I in the musical You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

competing for the house cup

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