I squirmed uneasily in my chair. Finally, my whole life has led up to this moment. As the official chair of admissions sat across the large oak desk in front of me, I daydreamed about my future life at Yale University. I was a shoe-in.
“Ah, Mr. Whyte,” he said, after looking over my academic resume one more time. “Everything seems to be quite in order. Your academic achievements are… well, they’re simply fantastic.
I beamed. “Th-thank you, sir.”
He continued. “Not only are they fantastic, but just spectacular. Captain of the debate team three years in a row, during which your team won three consecutive national championships, a 4.4 GPA, community service, an avid chess player, letters of recommendation from two very prestigious old colleagues of mine… I’m simply wowed.”
I couldn’t smile any wider. The dream was coming alive. “Please, sir, you’re too much,” I said, then laughed nervously. He laughed too, then stopped as a grave look appeared on his face. He cleared his throat.
“Erm, there’s just the matter of, uhh, one small incidental.” His voice turned from impressed to serious immediately and my throat swelled. “We ran a background check on you and found that you said barbecue chips were shit tier chips. Is that true?”
I broke out into a cold sweat. My heart raced. I felt as if I was going to faint. How could that follow me here? All of the hard work, all of the sacrifices I had to make. “Y-yes. That’s… That’s true, sir.”
“You do realize that we at Yale University will deal with no such fuckshit here. Good DAY, Mr. Whyte, and never return, you punk bitch.”
With that, he shinku hadokened me out the window and I fell two stories to the ground. All because of one small mistake that would haunt me forever. In my last moments of consciousness, I heard him and other members of the college laugh, and one commented “I bet he eats nacho cheese Doritos.”
