Last night I had dinner with a Yalie and two administrators from Yale, who were conducting a site visit for the Richard Light Fellowship. The fellowship sends undergrads to Asia to learn the language for a year. Nice work if you can get it. Apparently its first year was my senior year at Yale (drats, foiled again!), so I didn't really hear about it then.
I did learn about it earlier this year when I was searching for a good language program to attend here. An internet search yielded the home page for the Light Fellowship, and a list of recommended language institutions in Korea. "If it's good enough for Yale, I guess it's good enough for me," thought I, and so I used that list to narrow down my choices.
Lo and behold, yesterday during class, the head of the language institute came into the class with two Americans, and said they were from Yale. At that, I let out an involuntary "Oh!" which necessitated an explanation that I graduated from there. The man, who spoke beautiful Korean, gave me his card, explaining to the rest of the class: "Oh, because she¡¯s from Yale." (Later on, Adrian, the guy who works for the Singaporean Embassy, ribbed me about it: "So, got a hot date tonight?")
In fact, the administrators invited me to have dinner with them and the Light Fellow at Sogang, a guy named Jason that I'd met the first day of school (Yuki, another housemate, introduced us). I had no idea he was a Yale student, or that he was even in college! I'm used to people looking younger than they are, so it was a surprise find out that he actually is that young. Class of 2005. Whoa.
I don't know if it was his age, or the fact he's from New York, or that he was sort of "on-duty" with his benefactors, or what, but man, he was a serious dude. Barely cracked a smile the entire dinner. I felt rather flitty next to him. Were we all so serious in college? Maybe I was, around authority figures. In any case, I wasn't last night, as they weren't authority figures to me, and as five years can yield a lot of perspective in the fields of the soul. I even asked that we order a bottle of wine, as I saw that the year's Beaujolais Nouveau had arrived.
It was nice to have dinner and wine with people who all knew Yale and New Haven (and even better to have it bought for me). A little bit of business and glad-handing occurred, as I mentioned I worked for the Korea Foundation, which makes grants for Korean Studies.
Mr. Administrator asked if I could get a proposal for a joint grant program to the right person, and when I affirmed that I could, he said, "Hey! You've just earned your dinner!"
"And I thought my charming personality was enough!" I replied.
Puzzled, Jason asked, "Why should her working there help?" (Ah, youth.)
Mr. Administrator clarified, "Well, she can get it to the right person right away, whereas if I were just to sent it unsolicited, it might lie on someone's desk forever."
"I'm just a lowly copy editor," I reminded him, feeling a bit uneasy.
"Yes, but in time, you might rise up in the ranks, and be in a position to help."
This little piece of schmoozing felt a little icky to me. What do I know of getting things to the right people? Plus, I never thought I'd be the schmoozy type. But it's not all that different from referring friends to other friends, is it? The distances are a little wider and the connections wear suits, but it's basically the same thing.
Another reason I feel icky is because my dad's venture concerns Korean students going on exchange programs to the U.S., and Mrs. Administrator was a perfect contact, as she heads the office of International Students. So should I have told her about my dad's venture? I didn't feel right doing that, but I want to help my dad's business¡¦
Aw, jeez. Can't I even enjoy a nice little dinner on Yale¡¯s dime without turning it into a self-doubt fest?