Chapter 13 Part 2 The Charm of Love - 6

For the next two days, I traveled around New York like a whirlwind, feeling the colorful life here.You see, some things are really unbelievable.For example, there is a chocolate factory in Bloomingdale's department store! And there are shoe stores all along the entire road! Everything was so new and dazzling that I forgot what I was here for.When I woke up Wednesday morning, I couldn't help feeling a little creepy.Today is my first meeting with two senior TV producers of HLBC TV station.Oh my God.It was kind of scary. Luke went to a breakfast meeting early in the morning. At this time, I was alone in bed, drinking coffee and eating a croissant, and I was cheering myself up in my heart, telling myself not to panic.The key is not to panic, but to stay calm.Luke also told me repeatedly that this meeting was not really an interview, but just an introduction.It was a "getting to know each other" lunch, or so he put it.

Getting acquainted would be fine--but do I really want them to get to know me? To be honest, I'm still hesitating if it's a good idea.In fact, I dare say that if they did know me—if they could read other people's minds, for example—then my chances of getting a job would be pretty much nil. I stayed indoors all morning, trying to get myself to read The Wall Street Journal and watch CNN—but ended up getting more and more uneasy.I mean, these American TV presenters are pretty seasoned.They never mispronounce a word, never crack a joke, and know everything.For example, who is the Minister of Trade of Iraq, and the impact of global warming on Peru.And I came to New York thinking I could do their job too.I'm so crazy.

I was also concerned that I hadn't had a formal interview in years. "Morning Coffee" never asked me to do any interviews, I just did the show by feel.I used to be a reporter for "Successful Money" and I just chatted with the editor-in-chief Philip for a while, and Philip and I had known each other at a press conference.So, the thought of trying to impress two complete strangers is pretty horrifying! "Just like always," Luke said to me several times.But to be honest, it's actually kind of funny.Everyone knows that the point of an interview is not to show who you are, but to try to make the employer feel that you are someone they want.This is what people call "interview skills."

When I walked to the door of the restaurant where I had arranged to meet, half of my body wanted to run away quickly, let this matter go, and go shopping and buy a new pair of leather shoes.But I can't, I have to bite the bullet and hold on. It's also the worst thing.My stomach is empty and my palms are wet, because this matter concerns my vital interests.I can't tell myself that I don't care, that it doesn't matter, like I do about anything else.Because this matter is really important.I couldn't move to New York without trying to find a job in New York.If I screw up this interview and make it known that I'm not wanted--that'll be the end of it.Oh my God.Oh my God……

Okay, calm down, I gritted my teeth and said to myself.I can do it.I can pass.After getting through this, I will reward myself. The Daily Candy website sent an e-mail this morning saying that a large cosmetics mall called Sefler in Soho is holding a special promotional show today until 4pm.Every customer gets a free carry bag — and a free mascara when you spend $50 or more! You see, I feel better just talking about these things, just thinking about it.Well, go in bravely.Go meet them. I force myself to push the door open.Suddenly, I was in the lobby of a very beautiful restaurant, the tables were shiny black Chinese lacquer panels, covered with snow-white tablecloths, and there was a large fish tank next to the wall, with colorful ornamental fish swimming in it.

"Good afternoon." The manager of the restaurant in a black uniform greeted me. "Hello," I said, "I'm here to see—" Hell, I forgot the names of the two people I was meeting. Oh, good start, Becky.This is completely a head-to-head professional insider. "Can you just... wait a minute?" I said, turning away, flushed.I reached into my bag for the paper—oh, there it is.Called Judd Westbrook and Kent Garland. Kent? With a name like that? "I'm Rebecca Bloomwood," I said to the restaurant manager, stuffing the paper back in my bag hastily. "Meeting Judd Westbrook and Kent Garland from HLBC." Flipping through the guest reservations in his hand, he smiled faintly, "Yes. They've already arrived."

I took a deep breath and followed him to a table where they sat.It was a blond-haired lady in a pale brown hakama, and the other was a sharp-faced man in an immaculate black suit and lime-green tie.I tried my best to restrain the thought of turning around and running away, and walked forward with a confident smile, holding out a hand.They both looked up at me, and didn't say a word for a split second—I was startled, and suddenly felt that it was very abrupt for me to extend my hand so hastily.I mean, Americans shake hands when they meet, right? It's not like kissing, or bowing, is it?

Thank goodness the blond lady stood up and shook my hand warmly. "Becky!" she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Kent Garland." "I'm Judd Westbrook," said the man, his sunken eyes fixed on me. "It's a pleasure to meet you." "Me too!" I said, "Thank you for the beautiful flowers!" "You're welcome," Judd said, and he pulled out a chair at the dining table for me. "Just a little token of our welcome." "It was a pleasure meeting you," Kent said. Then there was a silence, and probably no one knew what to say.

"Well, it's nice to meet you two, too," I said hurriedly, "absolutely . . . for sure." So far, so far.If it's just such a polite talk, then I can do it too.I carefully put my bag on the ground at my feet, along with my copies of the Financial Times and Wall Street Journal.I also wanted to bring a copy of the South China Morning Post, but I didn't want to appear too much. "What would you like to drink?" A waiter appeared beside me and asked politely. "Okay," I said, looking nervously around the table to see what other people were drinking.Both Kent and Judd had tumblers in front of them that seemed to be filled with gin.Then I'll do what they say, "I want a gin."

To be honest, I think I really want to drink some wine and let myself relax.As I flipped through the menu, both Judd and Kent were looking at me with a sudden discovery, as if I were about to bloom like a flower. "We've seen your tape," Kent said, leaning forward slightly, "and we've been very impressed." "Really?" I said--and I realized at once that I should not have used this tone of surprise. "Really," I repeated, making my tone more flat, "Well, I'm also very satisfied with the show, of course..." "As you know, Rebecca, we have a show called Consumers Today," Kent said. "We don't have a personal finance show yet, but we'd be interested in bringing in what you're doing in the UK." class counseling sessions." She glanced at Judd, who nodded aside.

"You're clearly passionate about personal finance specialties," he said. "Oh," I faltered, startled by his words, "Is this..." "You have shown your talent everywhere in the show," he said with affirmation, "You hold the theme tightly, just like clamping things firmly with pliers." Pliers to hold something? "You see, you have a lot of character, Rebecca," Kent said. "You are young, approachable, attractive, highly professional, confident in what you say..." "You're going to be a huge inspiration to any financially struggling audience anywhere," Judd interjects. "What we appreciate most is the patience you show with your audience." "And your sympathy for them..." "...and your seemingly simple, yet capable hosting style!" Kent said, looking at me intently. "How did you develop this style?" "Um... well, it just came naturally, I think..." A waiter brought me a gin and put it in front of me, and I grabbed the glass to change the subject. "Come on, have a drink, let's drink together!" I said and picked up the wine glass. "Cheers!" said Kent. "Rebecca, order something." "Okay," I replied, flipping through the menu, "a fish dish and a green bean salad." I looked at what they both ordered. "Shall we have some garlic bread?" "I don't eat wheat," Judd said politely. "Oh," I said, "so... Kent, what about you?" "I'm going carb-free this week," she said with a smile. "You can do what you like. I think the two you picked will be delicious!" "No, it's all right," I said hastily, "I'll just have a pelvic fin." Gosh, how could I be so stupid? Surely no one in Manhattan eats garlic bread. "What would you like to drink?" asked the waiter. "Hmmm..." I looked around, "I don't know either. Sauvignon Blanc: A wine made from white grapes that originate in Bordeaux, France. —Annotation , how? What kind of wine do people generally drink?" "It's a good drink," Kent said with a friendly smile, and I was relieved. "Add some Alpine mineral water for me," she added, pointing to the tumbler in front of her. "Me too," Judd said. Alpine mineral water? Are they drinking alpine mineral water? "I'll just have mineral water, too," I said quickly. "I don't want alcohol! It was just a thought. You know—" "No!" said Kent, "you can have anything you want." She smiled at the waiter and said, "A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, our guests asked for it." "Honestly..." I said, blushing. "Rebecca," Kent said, smiling and holding up a hand, "just feel comfortable." Oh great.Now she must think I'm a total alcoholic.She'd think I couldn't even make it through one of these "first meeting" lunches without a sip. Well, forget about it.That's it.Everything will pass, I'll just have a drink.One cup, no more. I really wanted to do that, just have a drink and call it a day. But the problem is, every time I finish my glass, a waiter will come and refill it for me, and just like that, I keep drinking without knowing it.Besides, I thought it would be ungrateful to have a small glass of wine wasted after asking for a bottle. The natural consequence of this is that by the time we finish our main course, I feel totally... well, I guess the word "drunk" sums it all up.Another word "chaotic" can also describe my situation.But it didn't matter, because we had a good time together, and I was being tactful.Maybe it's because I relaxed a bit and wasn't as tense as I was in the beginning.I told them a lot of interesting behind-the-scenes stories of "Morning Coffee" and they listened carefully and said "very interesting" from time to time. "Of course, you Brits are very different from us," Kent muses, as I tell them about Dave, the cameraman, coming in to work drunk on the set, and the show ends at the end of the show. Halfway through, he actually fell to the ground, and the smell of alcohol in his mouth made Emma hold her nose.Omg that was so funny.In fact, I can't help but laugh when I think about the anecdote. "We love your British sense of humor," Judd said, looking at me intently, as if expecting me to tell some more jokes or something. OK, think quickly.Think of something fun.British humor.Hmm... Monty Python Monty Python: The main character in the British comedy of the same name in the 1970s. ——Annotation? Victor Meldrew Victor Meldrew (Victor Meldrew): The protagonist in the British comedy "One Foot in the Grave". ——Annotation? "I don't believe it—believe it!" I heard my own voice yell, "Hmmm...that's parrotology, parrot!" I laughed, and Judd and Kent looked at each other awkwardly. At this moment, the waiter brought coffee.Ah, I got my coffee at last, Kent had his English morning tea, and Judd had some strange drink like barley tea which he brought himself and had the waiter make it for him. "I like to drink tea," Kent said, and she smiled at me. "It's very fragrant and quiet. Oh, Rebecca. I heard that in England, you have the habit of turning the teapot three times clockwise, which can ward off evil spirits. Is that the case? Or three turns counterclockwise?" Turning the teapot? I've never heard of turning the damn teapot. "Hmm... let me think about it." I frowned thoughtfully, thinking back to the last time I poured tea out of a teapot.But the only thing I vaguely remember is Suzie putting a bag of tea in a beaker and biting open a bag of Kit Kats with her teeth. "Counterclockwise, I suppose," I said at last, "because there's a proverb that says, 'The devil climbs up a clock and never turns back.'" What the hell am I talking about? Why do I suddenly have a Scottish accent? Oh my gosh, I drank too much. "That's wonderful!" said Kent, sipping her tea. "I love these old English customs. Do you know any other customs?" "Of course!" I said cheerfully, "I know a lot of things!" Stop talking, Becky.Shut up now. "For example, we have a very old custom that is... is... called 'twirling the tea cake.'" "Really?" said Kent. "I've never heard of it." "Oh, that's right," I said confidently, "that's it, take the cake..." I grabbed a piece of bread from the plate carried by the waiter passing by. "Put it on your head and turn it like this, and then read... read a short poem..." Crumbs started to fall on my head, and I couldn't think of a poem that contained the word "cake" so I put my hands down and took a sip from my coffee cup. "That's the Cornish custom," I added. "Really?" said Judd with interest. "My grandmother's from Cornwall. I'll have a chance to ask her!" "Only in certain parts of Cornwall," I explained, "only in remote places." Judd and Kent looked at each other with puzzled looks on their faces - and couldn't help laughing again. "You English humor again!" said Kent. "It's impossible not to laugh." At that moment, I didn't know what to do - and then, I laughed too.Omg it was so good.We bonded right away.At this time, Kent's face lit up. "Rebecca, I wanted to tell you just now. I have a very special opportunity for you. I don't know what you have planned for this afternoon. But I have a ticket for a very special..." She paused for a moment, with a wide smile on her face to make what she was about to say more interesting, and I suddenly became excited, waiting for her next sentence. VIP entry for something like the Gucci sample sale for sure.Definitely yes! "...the annual meeting of the Financiers Association!" she said proudly. At that moment, I couldn't say a word. "Really?" I finally said, my voice a little higher than usual, "You're not... kidding!" How can I escape this terrible trap? Think of a way! "I know!" said Kent cheerfully. "I know you'd like to go. Well, if you have nothing else to do this afternoon--" I'm busy! I want to shout it out.I'm going to Sephora to pick up a free mascara. "There were some very distinguished people speaking," Judd said. "Bert Frankel among them." "Really?" I said, "Bert Frankel!" I've never heard of any damn Bert Frankel. "So... I've got a ticket here..." said Kent, reaching for her handbag. "What a coincidence!" I heard myself yelling, "but, this afternoon, I was going to... visit the Guggenheim Museum: Guggenheim Museum in New York City Founded by Sorodin R. Guggenheim Foundation in 1939, it was called "Museum of Non-objective Painting" (Museum of Non-objective Painting) at that time. Famous.—Annotated by translation.” Well, nobody has trouble with culture. "Really?" said Kent, with a look of disappointment on her face. "Can you visit the museum another day?" "I'm afraid not," I said. "There is a very special exhibit that I have been wanting to see for myself, since I was only... six years old." "Really?" said Kent, his eyes wide open. "Yes," I said seriously, leaning forward, "I saw a picture of it in one of my grandmother's art books when I was very young. I've been dreaming about it ever since. I hope to come to New York to see this work of art in person. Now that I'm in New York... I can't wait. Hope you understand how I feel..." "Of course!" Kent said. "Of course we understand. What a touching wish!" She and Judd looked at each other, and I smiled humbly at them. "So—which artwork is it?" I stared blankly at her.Well, think quickly, think quickly.Guggenheim Museum.Modern Painting? Or Sculpture? I bet half my bet on modern painting.It would be great if I could just call and ask a friend. "Actually... I'd better keep it a secret," I finally replied. "I think artistic preferences are a very...private thing." "Oh," said Kent, who seemed a little taken aback, "of course I didn't mean to ask." "Kent," Judd said, looking at his watch again, "we've got to—" "Yes," Kent said.She took another sip of her tea and stood up. "I'm so sorry, Rebecca, we have another meeting at two-thirty. It's a pleasure to meet you." "Yes," I said, "I'm happy too!" I staggered out of the restaurant following them.I was a little surprised when I walked past the ice bucket where the bottle was kept in a restaurant that I almost drank the bottle.God, such a shame.But I think others may not have noticed this. We got outside the restaurant, and Judd had already waved me a cab. "Nice to meet you, Rebecca," he said. "We'll report to the VP of Production, so let's...keep in touch again! Enjoy your visit to the Guggenheim." "Okay!" I said, shaking hands with each of them. "I'll take a look and enjoy it. Thank you so much!" I waited for them to go away—but they were standing by the cab, waiting for me to get in—and just like that, I kind of stumbled into the cab and leaned forward again and said clearly to the driver, “Go to the Guggenheim museum." The taxi whizzed away, and I waved goodbye to Judd and Kent with a smile on my face, until they were out of sight for a while.I thought it was a good meeting, except that I was a little awkward when I told them the anecdote about Rory and the guide dog, and how top-heavy I was when I went to the bathroom.But then again, that kind of thing will inevitably happen to anyone. I let the car go forward for a block or two, just to be on the safe side—and leaned forward again. "Sorry," I said to the taxi driver, "I've changed my mind and I'm going to Soho." The taxi driver turned around, frowning with displeasure. "You're going to Soho?" he said. "What about the Guggenheim?" "Well... I will go there later." "In the future?" the driver said, "it will take time to visit the Guggenheim Museum. It's a good museum. There are works by Picasso, and Kandinsky: Russian painter. - Annotated Works. Don't miss it." "Won't miss it! I promise not. Now let's go to Soho, shall we?" The driver said nothing. "Okay," the driver finally said, shaking his head a lot. "Okay." He turned the taxi around in the middle of the road, and the car started to drive in the direction it just came from.I raised my wrist and looked at my watch—it was 2:40.There is still plenty of time.great. I leaned on the back of the seat, looking at the blue sky outside the window with a relaxed mood.Gosh, this feels so good, doesn't it? Driving down the road in a yellow cab with the sun peeking through gaps in the skyscrapers, drinking warm wine, and a smile on my face, I I really feel like I'm slowly embracing New York.I mean, I know I've only been here three days, but I do feel like a duck to water.I am very comfortable with the language and everything here.For example, yesterday I blurted out those New Yorker idioms, the "addition" when calculating the price, saying that the dress is "very pretty"! At this moment, the car I was taking slowly stopped in front of a pedestrian crossing, I looked out of the car with great interest, looking at what street we were in at this time-but at this moment, I was suddenly too scared to move. In front turned out to be Judd and Kent.Just in front of the car, across the street, Kent was talking vigorously, and Judd was nodding.Oh my God.Oh my God.Quick, hide. My heart was beating rapidly.I slid down in my seat and picked up The Wall Street Journal to cover myself.But it was too late, Kent saw me.With a look of astonishment on her face, she walked forward quickly.She tapped on the car window with her fingers, talking non-stop, and gestured anxiously with one hand. "Rebecca! You're going the wrong way!" she yelled as I rolled down the window. “The Guggenheim is in the opposite direction!” "Really?" I said in amazement. "Oh, my God! How could it be?" "Tell the driver to turn the car around! These New York taxi drivers! Don't even know the way!" She knocked on the window next to the driver's seat again. "Go to the Guggenheim!" she said, as if addressing a goofy child. "Go to 89th Street! Hurry up! This lady has been looking forward to seeing this museum since she was six!" "You want me to drive to the Guggenheim?" the driver said, turning to look at me. "Um...yes!" I said, barely daring to look him in the eye. "I said that, right? Go to the Guggenheim!" The driver cursed under his breath, turned the steering wheel and turned the car around. I waved Kent goodbye, and Kent was still making a sympathetic gesture, which meant "that driver is an idiot" or something. The car was moving again, heading north, and for the next few minutes I really felt like I had nothing to say.The street sign on the side of the road outside the car window disappeared behind in a flicker.34th Street, 35th Street...it's almost 3 o'clock and we're running in opposite directions, getting farther and farther away from Sephora in Soho and my free mascara... "I'm sorry," I said, clearing my throat as if apologetically, "actually..." "What?" the driver asked, looking back at me with a bit of hate. "I just... just remembered that I promised to see my... aunt, in... in..." "Soho. You want to go to Soho." He glances at me in the mirror above the front window, and I bite the bullet and nod in embarrassment.The driver turned the car around sharply, and I was thrown to the side of the car and hit my head on the window. "Watch out!" said a voice out of nowhere, startling me. "Watch out! Put on your seat belt, okay? Buckle up!" "Okay," I said humbly, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll pay attention to it later." I awkwardly buckle up and meet the driver's eye in the mirror again. "That's a taped admonition," he said contemptuously. "You're talking into a tape recorder." I know it is. The car finally arrived at the Sephora mall on Broadway.I pulled out a handful of dollars and handed them to the driver.I guess I gave him twice as much money as a tip, which is reasonable considering my special situation.When I stepped out of the taxi, the driver's eyes were fixed on me. "Miss, have you been drinking?" "No," I said a little angrily, "I mean...drank a little. But just had a little wine at lunch..." The taxi driver shook his head and drove away.I walked into the Sephora mall a little bit top-heavy.To be honest, I feel a little dizzy.When I opened the door, I even felt that the roof was turning.Oh my God.It's more beautiful here than I imagined. Music was playing in the mall, girls were darting back and forth under the bright spotlights, and men in sleek black lapels and headsets were handing out free bags to customers.I turned around in a daze and looked around: I had never seen so much cosmetics.Rows of lipsticks, rows of nail polish, colorful and dazzling.Oh look, there are also little seats where customers can sit and try them out, and free cotton balls and other supplies.This place is... I mean, it's heaven. I took a bag and looked at the outside of the bag. There was a sentence called "Sephora's Promise" printed on the front, which was "Beauty brings us together, and beauty adds fun to life." God, look, how true that is.In fact, the words were so witty and lively that they almost brought tears to my eyes. "Are you alright, miss?" A man wearing a headset looked at me curiously and asked, and I looked up, still feeling dizzy. "I was reading this Saphora's promise just now. It's... beautifully said." "Um...well," said the man, still with a hint of doubt in his eyes, "have a nice shopping day at the mall." I nodded to him, raised my legs, half walked, half dragged, and staggered to a display case with a row of small bottles of nail polish. The labels on the cabinet read "Cosmic Essence", "Clear Dream Stream" names like .I looked at the exhibits on the cabinet, feeling ups and downs.These small nail polish bottles are euphemistically telling me that when I use them, if I choose the right shade, I will look more beautiful and have more fun in life. Why had I never thought of this truth before? Why? I picked up a bottle of "Clear Dream Stream" and put it in my shopping basket—and headed to the back of the mall, where there was a sign that said "Try it yourself - have fun." Have fun, I thought dazedly.Here's a pair of joss sticks, a small travel mirror, and some "lighting ointment" or whatever it's called... I pick it out slowly and put it in my shopping basket.At this time, I vaguely felt something beeping softly-suddenly, I realized that it was my mobile phone ringing. "Hi!" I turned on the phone and put it to my ear and shouted, "Who is it?" "Hi. It's me," Luke said. "I heard your lunch meeting was going well." "Really?" I said, both surprised and delighted. "Who did you hear that from?" "I just got off the phone with my friends at HLBC. Obviously, you've impressed them. Lovely, they say so." "Wow!" I said, my body couldn't help shaking a little, I quickly grabbed the display cabinet to stabilize, "Really? You didn't make a mistake, did you?" "You can't be wrong. They also said you were charming and well-bred... I even heard they put you in a taxi afterward to the Guggenheim Museum." "Yes," I said, reaching for a bottle of lip balm, "they put me in a taxi." "Oh, I'm curious to hear them tell you about the dream you've been keeping in your head since you were a kid," Luke said. "Kent said she was very touched by it." "Really?" I said vaguely, "Well, it's good." "Of course it is," Luke said, after a short pause. "It's kind of weird that you didn't mention the Guggenheim at all this morning, did you? Or... look, you've been around since you were six I have always dreamed of visiting this museum." I could hear the teasing elements in his words, so I couldn't help but concentrate.He was so happy that he called to tease me, didn't he? "Didn't I tell you about the Guggenheim?" I played around with him pretending to be confused, and put lip balm in the shopping basket, "This is really weird." "Isn't it?" Luke said. "It's the strangest thing in the world. So, you're still in the museum?" hell. For a moment, I didn't know how to answer.I certainly can't confess to Luke that I'm going to the store again.He really teased me for a while after that so-called walking tour of the city, how can I still say that I've been smitten by the mall again? I mean it's okay, I know the three-hour market was set Inland tour, and it turned out to be only ten minutes of walking, which is kind of not a city tour - but I still followed to see something, didn't I? I mean, I still followed to Saks department store, didn't I ? "Yes," I said desperately, "yes, I'm still in the museum." There's nothing wrong with saying that.I mean, it won't be too late to go to the museum after I buy cosmetics here. "Great!" Luke said. "What are you looking at right now?" Oh hell! "What's that called?" I said suddenly, raising my voice. "I'm sorry, I can't do it! Luke, I have to hang up. Then...the librarian is complaining about my talking too loudly. See you later .” "At 6 p.m. at the Royalton Hotel (Royalton: a big hotel in New York City. -Yi Annotation's bar," he said, "and you meet my new partner, Michael. Tell me about what you saw and heard this afternoon."