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White Lies in the City

last updated: 8 July 2009
No Way Out? - H Assaf
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Right now unemployment’s rising, the markets are slumping, and naturally we all want to be better than the next candidate interviewed. So who isn’t prone to a little exaggeration on their CV from time to time?
Maybe it’s the odd embellishment about the achievements on our career path, the IT skills we’ve acquired, or even the qualifications we possess. I, however, thought I had nothing to worry about; my CV stated two pages of the truth. Or did it?
 
So far the interview was going quite well. I tried to dazzle the panel with my technical knowledge and look painstakingly excited by the monotonous world of debits and credits - until the unthinkable happened.
 
I reeled in shock, I gulped, and my heart stopped beating. Had I really just heard the question correctly - in French?
 
The truth is it was an accident. I updated all the important stuff on my CV and just thought my skills and interests had remained more or less the same. Anyway, no one actually looked at the peripheral section of 'Personal Interests' did they? Besides, I still liked travelling, gymming, skiing...except, the more I think about it, the last time I had spoken any sort of 'conversational French' was when I was at school (and that was a really long time ago).
 
With all the composure I could muster I nervously uttered, "Oui...je parle un petit peu de français."

Not only did this woman speak French she actually was French. And not only was she French, she was as mature as a fine Bordeaux wine, and I’m sure she was not to be amused by my A-Level attempt at conversation (nine years on).
 
I’m not sure what happened after that. The next thirty minutes were a blur, and how I managed to get through the barrage of questions “pose à la français” was a small miracle. After the horrific experience I took the Tube home and quietly contemplated that perhaps my current job wasn’t so bad after all. At least I only had to speak English and thankfully, I could actually manage that.
 
Et voilà! The next day I got the call. I was in. Perhaps my French wasn’t so rusty after all. If my French teacher was here now, I’d give him a big French kiss. À bientôt!

Here Is The Writer : Accidental Accountant

Accidental Accountant Accidental Accountant is a twenty-something City girl parading the trading floors of investment banks, wondering everyday how she came to be here. She has been playing the corporate game for the last five years, has a passion for fashion, a fondness for partying, and a love/hate affair with City life. If you’ve ever thought you didn’t quite fit in, welcome to her world (and feel free to get in touch).

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