The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

“We need to make it sound more résumé-y,” Evie says.

The women look at each other for a moment, their eyes calculating.

Kim says, “How about ‘Brainstormed and finalized strategic vision’?”

“Ooh, nice. ‘Steered the foundation in the direction that maximized its potential to serve our stakeholders,’” Pascal says.

Kim starts typing.

“Wow. That sounds really good,” I say. And totally fictional, but hey, whatever works. Getting a job comes first. I’ll worry about the rest later.

Besides, I’m going to work for a boss, so it won’t be my duty to come up with “strategic vision” or figure out how to “maximize potential.” I’ll just do whatever my boss wants me to do.

Jo nibbles on her lip, thinking. “Languages?”

“Right. Do you speak anything other than English and Korean?” Kim asks.

“French, Japanese, German and Italian,” I say. “And some Spanish and Mandarin. Very little Latin.”

Jo stares at me in shock. “I thought you studied piano.”

“I did, but I also had to learn other languages.”

Even people who go through an average Korean public education get at least six years or more of English as a second language. Maybe Americans don’t study foreign languages…?

“So you could read music notation?” Evie asks. “That’s in Italian and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, but the languages aren’t for that. They’re just something you learn because it makes it easier to do business overseas.”

“But isn’t that what translators are for?” Ivy says. She’s seen my mom’s translator in action.

“Yeah, but it’s easier to handle it yourself if you can. And also, it’s helpful if you want to, you know…keep someone out of a conversation.” As I say it, I’m mildly embarrassed that all the effort and time spent on mastering those languages were for something so shallow.

“What do you mean?” Kim asks.

“So, um…” I clear my throat, while telling myself I’ve never done it so I have nothing to be ashamed of. “Let’s say somebody who doesn’t belong wants to be part of a conversation, and everyone else is chaebol.”

“What’s a chay-bul?” Jo says.

“Korean conglomerates that are controlled by families,” Pascal says. Everyone looks at her, and she goes slightly red. “What? We do a lot of business in Asia.”

“Right. And chaebol families are like royalty. It isn’t like being a billionaire in America.” I give a small sigh. I wish it were like being a rich person in America, where it’s okay to just seek love and personal happiness. “Anyway, let’s say there’s one person, who’s outside the family, and everyone else is chaebol. If we don’t want that person to participate in the conversation, we’ll simply switch to English.”

I frown a little, remembering a scene at one party. A wife of some executive, who one of the snotty chaebol scions hated, came to say hello to a group of chaebol women, and how quickly they shifted from one language to another until there were tears in the woman’s eyes. It left a bad taste in my mouth. I might’ve gone over and said something if it weren’t for the fact that my mom had her arm looped through mine and was doing her best to introduce me to Dossier #74’s mom.

“At least we’ll be able to join in the convo,” Pascal says lightly.

“Yeah, but lots of Koreans can manage English these days. So if that doesn’t work, you switch to French. Or German.”

“A lot of effort just to ostracize somebody,” Evie says.

“But it might help with the job hunt. Never hurts to be multilingual, even if the job description doesn’t say you need to be,” Kim says, typing.

“But I don’t have any kind of, like, special certification or anything if they’re looking for one of those,” I say. “I never bothered because I never needed any.”

“It’s not like they’re going to test you. Unless you apply to be a translator.” Pascal grows thoughtful. “Do you want to be a translator?”

I shudder. I speak reasonably well, but not enough to do business, especially not in French. And I’d hate to be responsible for my boss losing money. He’d bury me. Then stomp on my grave with feces-covered boots and spit on the properly dirtied dirt. “Not really.”