SYDNEY AUSTRALIA “My name
is Alisha. I’m an educational consultant,” the young lady sitting next to
me says cheerfully. It’s a 14½-hour flight from SFO to SYD. I lucked out
getting an upgrade to business class. How, I’m not sure, since there were only
four seats left and I was number five on the waitlist and now I’m sitting next
to this perky young lady from Perth. Maybe this trip won’t be so boring after
all. “Okay, so what does an educational
consultant do?” I ask. She puzzles, apparently unsure just how to explain
because, I presume, she thinks I may be too dumb to understand. After a few meandering
aborted attempts, she cuts to the chase and sums up, “I create educational curriculum for kids from wealthy families.” “Oh, I see, a private tutor then?” She
looks at me with a wry grimace, “Yes, I
guess you could say that.” “And they
fly you business class?” “Yes, of
course.” “Sounds nice! But how do you
go about finding these wealthy clients?” “By word of mouth.” “Really,
it’s that easy?” She doesn’t respond and so I ask, “Do you mind if I ask who your clients are?” She frowns, “No, that’s confidential.” “Tell me though, do you have enough clients
to keep you busy?” “Yes,” she
says, as she pulls out and flips open United’s flight magazine and adds, “but I pretty much work at my leisure.”
“You can’t beat that, I guess.” “It pays the bills and allows me to travel,”
she says more pointedly indicating what I had suspected that this conversation about
her job had come to an end. We did talk some more and she kindly gave me a
variety of useful tips on Australia, but no more about her job, as if to say, “Through my eyes you may peer but my reality will
remain a mystery.”
