Letter from Boston Interview in D.C. By MASAKO YAMADA	フレームで見る  英文をプリントする  脚注をプリントする
ワシントンでの面接 雅子さんは以前から経済誌『エコノミスト』の夏休み研修生募集に応募していましたが、先日、面接を受けることになりました。リクルートスーツでさっそうとワシントンに向かった雅子さんですが、面接はうまくいったのでしょうか？

My interview for the summer internship for which I'd applied was scheduled in the morning on Saturday, April 12. I took a plane to D.C. on Friday afternoon so I could enter the interview in a peaceful state of mind. The "business express" plane that I'd taken was a small propeller plane that wheezed noisily as it fought against the gusts, but I arrived safely.

I wore my interview suit on the plane, but by the time I reached my hotel room, all I could think of was getting out of my pumps. After I'd freshened up and changed clothes, I hit the neighborhood streets. I noticed many powerful names carved in the stone buildings as I walked down the streets: National Geographic Society, AFL-CIO and U.S. Navy were among them. It made me realize that Washington, D.C. is, indeed, the capital city of the country.

I decided to go to a popular pan-Asian restaurant for dinner. The food that such restaurants serve may not be truly authentic, but the atmosphere is hip, and the meals are light and inexpensive. I struck up a conversation with the guys who were sitting at the table beside me. One of the guys was an American who was born in Germany, and the other was an Afghanistani-American (who used to have a Japanese girlfriend), so our conversation was very interesting. They, too, commented on how varied the American palate was becoming.

In spite of my early arrival, the interview day did not start on the right note. I walked over to the "Economist" office thinking that I'd have an hour to spare, but then I realized that I couldn't find the office. First, I'd copied down the wrong address, so I had to look up the correct address in a telephone book. Next, I found out that the right address had three separate entrances ― and the two I tried first were the wrong ones. Finally, I realized that the "right" entrance was locked and I couldn't get in. By the time I got to the office, I was five minutes late.

I thought this delay was inexcusable, but the interviewer immediately put me at ease. He had on scruffy black clothes, wore a long ponytail, and spoke to me in a frank, light-hearted manner. I felt slightly out of place in my stiff grey suit, but I knew this was a serious interview. The "Economist" is well-known for its irreverent voice, but it's justly famous for its conservative reporting. I tried to answer his questions in that same casual-yet-serious tone. It tired me out.

He told me that even if I weren't offered the job, I oughtn't be dejected: out of 120 initial applicants, I'd made the final cut, and his final decision would obviously be a bit arbitrary. He also told me that all of the finalists could well free-lance for the magazine, so that made me feel a bit better. However, my desire for that internship is still as strong as ever, so as soon as I walked out of the office, I started planning the follow-up letter I'd write to him in order to strengthen my application.

The Cherry Blossom Festival ― in honor of the thousands of sakura trees that were planted to promote USA-Japan relations ― was held on the same day, but I didn't feel like participating after my interview. It was raining, and the displays looked soggy. I saw part of a traditional fan dance, but one of the dancing ladies had a grumpy look on her face (like she was part of a PTA committee and was forced to volunteer), so I started giggling and had to walk away. I spent the rest of the afternoon daydreaming at a mall.

I went to the airport early, picked up "The Washington Post," and read an article about Tsing-Tsing, the panda at the National Zoo. The panda was a gift from China from the days of Nixon. His mate is dead, he has cancer, and there are no descendants at the zoo. There was a large picture of Tsing-Tsing on the front page of the paper ― a very prominent paper in the States ― and I thought the story sounded like a soap opera. I decided then to get a toy panda. I've named him Chun Chun. It means "innocent spring." It's a nice reminder of my trip to D.C., but it's also a good-luck charm, which, I hope, will bring me that coveted job.

Shukan ST: April 25, 1997

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