Wizard Shoes

I've been at my kindergarten for a long while now and at times I have been put into decision making positions. With that came the responsibility to hire people.

This experience was fascinating.

Applicants were aloof. Resume's were hilarious. And people simply blew it. But the other day I chuckled when I thought about one interview in particular.

Let's call him the British Taekwondo Master. He had long, pony tailed, blonde hair. A very nicely cut, grey three-piece suit and Benjamin Franklin style bi-focals. His face looked kind and his 6-foot frame stood lean and athletic.

He came to Seoul to pursue his dream of winning international Taekwondo competitions and in the interview intricately weaved me through how the Taekwondo masters in London established him as the next best thing. At which I replied with no words but a short glance at the colorful bookshelves with children's books, thinking, "Did you know you are interviewing to teach 4-year-old's how to say 'hello'?"

The interview felt like a vortex of odd. He talked. We didn't. He kept moving his hands in wavy yet circular motions as he spoke. My hands stopped taking notes. His eyes were serious. Mine were understanding, yet very confused. Simply, odd.

The interview ended when he said, "To be honest, and please understand me Mark, I feel like the Taekwondo spirit brought me to Korea, and even to the this office, to speak to  you, Mark."


As he left, he bowed very sincerely. Then put on a not-so-subtle pair of pointy suede shoes because in Korea you leave shoes at the door and wear slippers inside.

The vice principal, looking perplexed,  then quickly asked, "Why does he wear the shoes of a wizard?"

To which I replied, "Good question..."

...get Lost my friends.

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