Emigration

(In the Consulate office.)

“Good morning. Take a seat,” the officer smiled to the young man who just entered the room, “Let me see … You come here to apply for emigration to our country. Is that right?”

The nervous young man nodded. He thought the question was a nuisance. What else could he be coming for? To say the least, the morning was dedicated for interviews of this kind, and there were another two dozens of people – young men and women like himself – lining up outside the room waiting to be interviewed; unfortunate for them, the number of vacancy was limited.

“Why do you think our country should give you, rather than the other people behind the door, a citizenship? The officer returned to his usual poker face and began questioning.

“I am capable and hardworking; my friends actually called me the Wikipedia in Seven-Eleven. And, I am a good team player and teacher. Just look at the list of trainees who had been under my supervision,” the young man hurried to finish. All of a sudden, he had a gush of grandiose idea and was convinced that he was the best citizen a country could expect to recruit.

But, the one on the other side of the table did not appear to be taken in, and murmured slowly, “Right, you may go now. We shall let you know if we have good news for you. However, I must say our country is not looking for a tough worker, encyclopedia, or a Confucius. After all, none of us in our country has those admirable characters.”

(To be continued.)