Work Text:
Jeongyeon sat across the desk from Mr. Park, the admission counselor at North Seoul Heavy Equipment Training Academy. He was trying to explain that she wasn’t eligible for admission, and she was refusing to let him.
“So,” she said, “you’ve already said that my written test was practically perfect and my simulator practice test was typical of students who get admitted to the academy. We both agreed that you’d be in big trouble with the government if you refused to admit me because of my gender. You tried claiming that my height would be an impediment until I pointed out that not only did the controls of the simulator adjust to accommodate my height, but the instructor who administered my simulator test was shorter than I am. Why don’t just make this easier on both of us and tell me the real reason why you don’t want to admit me?”
Mr. Park reshuffled the papers on his desk and nervously blotted his face with a handkerchief before answering. “Well, you see, Miss Yoo, I’m simply afraid that your previous career makes you a poor fit for the academy.”
“You think I’d be afraid to get my hands dirty?” Jeongyeon asked. “Let me assure you that that’s not the case. I researched this field and I’m coming in with my eyes fully open and ready to work my butt off.”
“Oh no,” Mr. Park said, waving his hands to stop her. “It’s not that. My daughter is a K-pop fan, so I know how hard K-pop idols work. I’m not questioning your work ethic. I’m just. . . afraid that your fame would be a distraction here.”
“Really?” Jeongyeon asked, doing her best to appear confused. “Because everything I’ve seen during my testing leads me to believe that the instructors here would treat me the same as any other student.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Park said. “No, it’s just that. . .”
“You’re afraid of my fans showing up and causing a disruption,” Jeongyeon said. When Mr. Park nodded, she smiled, confident that she’d just won. “I’ve been here every day this week for the application process. Have you seen any signs of my fans causing a disruption?” Mr. Park was forced to admit that he had not. “Twice fans are very aware of the financial situation that our company left us in, and one of the ways they’re supporting us now is by staying out of the way, so as not to interfere with us being able to support ourselves. Now if you were to refuse to admit me. . .”
“Then the fans would be down here, raising hell until you were admitted,” Mr. Park said.
“I never said that,” Jeongyeon said.
Mr. Park nodded. “No, you didn’t,” he said. “But you didn’t have to. I know when I’m beaten.” He picked up his signature stamp. “Before I sign your admission papers, I just have to ask one final time: Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” Jeongyeon said. “I wouldn’t have spent all afternoon trying to change your mind if I wasn’t sure that this is what I want to do.”
Mr. Park smiled. “No, Miss Yoo, I don’t believe you would have,” he said. He carefully inked his stamp and stamped his signature, precisely in the center of the signature box. He put the admission page with his signature on top of the stack of pages with Jeongyeon’s application and admission test results, carefully aligned the pages, stapled the stack together, and handed it across the desk to Jeongyeon. “Congratulations, Miss Yoo. You are the newest student at North Seoul Heavy Equipment Training Academy. Take those papers to the registrar and she’ll give you your class schedule, then go to the bookstore and purchase your uniforms. Classes start Monday.”
Accepting the papers, Jongyeon stood up and bowed to Mr. Park. “Thank you, Mr. Park. I’ll work hard and make NSHETA proud of me.”