More on my Parisian life

The following was written on the night of Friday June 18, 2009

 

I realize at this point I've been ridiculously detailed, so I’ll move a bit more briskly from here on.

Work has been just fine; it’s sort of exciting to have a daily job, something to look forward to doing and accomplishing each day. I’ve basically done odds and ends, but I have several on-going projects I'm working on too. I’ve created an annotated list of all the things I had to do to be able to come to Paris to intern, from what I took into consideration when filling out the application for the internship to what to take with me to Chicago to apply for the visa so what sort of clothes are appropriate at ICB.

I have an on-going project doing research on prospective client companies, which is actually quite boring. There are about 360 prospective clients A to Z, and in two days mostly dedicated to this project I've not even finished the Cs yet. I just have to find out what sort of company each potential client is (bank/financial, industry, consulting, distribution, etc.) and the size of their Paris office. The latter part can actually be quite difficult because many of the companies are national or international and don’t give numbers of their individual branches, just their total numbers, which ICB isn’t interested in.

I’ve also learned how to administer English level tests via the telephone. I haven’t actually done it yet, I will on Monday the 22^nd though. I call a future student (one enrolled at ICB, but not yet in a specific class because ICB doesn’t yet know their speaking and listening ability level) and administer a 15 minute test all in English. It starts out with some basic questions (whats your name, your email address, etc) to more complex questions (what department do you work in, do you think it’s important to know English for your job, do you want to work in an English-speaking country). Then part two is a speaking section in which I give the student 3 options of topics to talk about: the interview for their current job, a recent business meeting, and something else I don’t recall. They then have to talk for two minutes about a topic they choose. Then part three is a role play in which I act like a snobby London hotel employee and the student has to arrange a client in my London hotel for 80 people. They’re supposed to choose between two rooms, ask about refreshments and technological equipment and barter for a price. Obviously, if their English is very weak, this part challenging if not impossible. I asked the guy who trained me if laughing at the student was ok if theyre really bad, and he said no. Oh well, I might anyway because I cant help it!

Oh and I'm in charge of taking all the English teachers’ photographs (basically mug shots) for the new ICB website. I'm supposed to stop them when the walk by my desk, introduce myself and then ask for their photo. There are over 40 at ICB, so I often don’t recognize them. At least theyre all native English speakers so the greeting process is much less difficult and awkward. Some people are very self-conscious of photos of themselves I've discovered.

After work on Thursday the 18^th, I walked around ICB’s neighborhood (the 2^nd and 1^st arrondisements) to see some more of the area. I ran into La Place des Victoires, which is right by Banque de France and a bunch of other government offices, all adorned with at least a couple clusters of French flags.

Ill continue with talking about my day today, Friday June 19^th. I got to wake up late (because Mr. Wrobley had me work late), which was a tasty treat. And last night was the first night I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night because of jetlag! It was great! Anyway, today I woke late, noticed my cough and a bit of a sore throat had come back (it went away once I got going today, but the cough came back earlier this evening, dang thing). I had some breakfast, showered and was off for work. I realized I had a little extra time, so instead of getting off the metro just by my office, I got off a little ways down the road just in front of the Paris Opera. Needless to say, it’s beautiful. There was this guy in a Pharaoh’s outfit, a tight, gold spandex body suit with a Pharaoh mask, that was shaking a plastic cup and going from person to person annoying pleading for change. And he posed for photos with tourists, then begged for payment, as if he had provided some service.

I then walked to work and arrived just before 10:30. I got right to my deadly boring “research” project (often with breaks to check my emails and look around Paris on Google Maps). Mr. Wrobley had me edit and reorganize the list of necessary steps for the internship I made a couple of days ago. Then a lady in the office of Algerian descent named Messad had me copy and paste 275 names of current students in an Excel document. Their first names had to be moved from the first column to the second. Very important stuff. I then had to transfer student satisfaction poll results from paper to the ICB website and enter the students’ comments about their classes.

Finally around 2 Mr. Wrobley took me out for some lunch. We went to this little café around the corner that he goes to every day for lunch called eatme. We talked about Pembroke when he went (Class of 85) and how it compares to now. I told him about King of Kings County after he told me he had just read a book about the architecture about some old KC homes. Apparently Jasen Nichols has a brother in Mr. Wrobley’s class. Then back to work we moseyed!

There I did more of this research stuff, and found the Google mapping the companies on Streeview made the process more interesting. And I also discovered that so much non-stop sitting in one day makes my bottom really sore! And it’s tiring sitting at a desk all day. I had to get up yawn and stretch several times to stay ship shape.

Once most people had left, Mr. Wrobley had another guy named Jean-Pierre and I move a bunch of papers out a storage closet in a room and into another because of fire regulations (the fire dept told Mr. Wrobley that there couldn’t be so much paper in that room because the walls are not fire-retardant walls and there’s no exit that leads immediately outdoors. Basically a bunch of B.S.) Then Jean-Pierre left, and Mr. Wrobley and I spent a good hour or more going all about the office (three floors of rooms) figuring out which lights, outlets, etc. the fuse switches control. We had to do this because the fuses weren’t label with their matching locations, and the fire dept told him this is also illegal (but he said they told him this two years ago, so I guess it’s better label them now than never.)

After we had figured out what most of the switches control, I called Geraldine to get some more details about going to Brussels this weekend and then finally headed out. I was going to go straight home, but then I decided I’d eat some dinner first because it was already 8 o’clock by the time I left work. I went to the rue Montorgueil (a block for my office) and found La Grille Montorguiel, a café/restaurant we ate in last year as a group on the French trip. I decided I’d return for another dinner. I ordered the same thing (steak tartar with fries and salad) and was very satisfied. It was splendidly delicious. There was an Australian couple sitting next to me that didn’t speak any French; it was interesting to see their reactions when the waiter explained to them that one of the dishes had bone marrow in it.

            Around 9:15 I finally headed home. I immediately grabbed my laundry up in my room and brought it down to my host mother because she insisted upon doing it. Then my host father insisted on helping my buy my train tickets online. He manned the SNCF website while he, his wife and I talked. We finally made reservations for me to leave the morning of Saturday the 20th and return late afternoon Sunday the 21^st. And I learned that you cant print your tickets offline, so we got a confirmation number, then both my host parents and I walked to our neighborhood train station (isn’t that a great idea?) just a 10 minute walk away to print the tickets there. On our walk my host mother told me the number two man for Renault car company lived just above them. So I guess I live in a pretty safe, wealthy neighborhood.  

            And now I'm up in my room, just having packed for my weekend in Brussels with Geraldine and her friends listening to The Shins. I'm sitting with a big puffy pillow leaned up against the windowsill just below my open window, and the cool air keeps wafting in. And the sounds of the city are great to hear, something I'm not at all used to having lived in a quaint suburban environment. And now I’m off to bed.