Persuasion

The red is too informal, Jason Ellis thought as he hastily loosened and tossed the fifth tie he had tried on in the past thirteen minutes. Next up was the black-and-white striped tie, an 18th birthday present from his uncle. She’ll think I’m dull, he silently scowled to himself. Another reject to the pile. His heart rate skyrocketed to a zenith unseen since that one day in Jason’s 9th-grade class that his parents threatened him never to speak of again. At this rate, he may as well just give up and deploy the “nuclear option.”

Yet, as soon as the next tie was fastened, tranquility crept into his once war-torn chest. The seventh tie had the same color scheme as the sixth, but with a unique polka-dot pattern that was visually appealing but not distracting. For the first time in months, Jason smiled at his reflection. Perfect.

Daphne Reynolds was in no rush to get to Peywood Public Library. The pictures she found on Google had failed to whelm her in any significant way. Not that there was anything objectively wrong or negligent about the facility, the engineering professor was just still indignant about having to drive 45 minutes away from her place of work for a meeting at such a common location. He should be going out of his way to accommodate me, Daphne thought, which was not unreasonable on account of how much he needed to impress her. It was a power she was not ashamed to say she relished.

As Daphne’s Subaru pulled into the parking lot, a buzzing in her left pocket triggered an audible groan. As soon as the phone was in her hand, Daphne barely read the name on the notification before she tapped the power button and returned the screen to black. The 34-year-old admissions officer had no tolerance for personal drama intruding on her professional duties. That her sister still did not understand this was irrefutable evidence that time did not heal all wounds.

Sit up straight. Fold your hands. Blink once a minute, twice at most. 

Replaying his mom’s advice, Jason sat alone in the conference room. He was able to straighten his back, though he had to fight his body’s urge to relax actively. His hands were folded in front of him, though they were also shaking. His eyes, so calm when he had woken up, were blinking ten times every seventeen seconds.

His father’s advice? The same way he got into Dartmouth: the “nuclear” option. And Jason swore to himself to never use it.

The room was in the southwest corner of Peywood Public Library. Jason had scoped it out over a year in advance. Whoever the Dartmouth Admissions Officer would be, he had one chance to impress them and he knew he’d be dead on arrival if the meeting place had even the slightest defect or inconvenience. For the past twelve months, he’s been visiting the room every weekend, reviewing every square millimeter of the area for the hidden imperfection that would unravel his dreams. Finally, two weeks ago, Jason officially made the reservation.

His smartwatch reaffirmed that he was 25 minutes early to the meeting. He had emailed the location several times while corresponding with the admissions office. There was no reason not to expect an institution like Dartmouth would overlook or misplace such a detail, but reason itself quickly dwindled in his racing mind. Thankfully, the door to the room opened before Jason could consider something he might regret.

Daphne flashed a professional smile, even though her instinctual impression of the boy had already been made. “You must be Jason.”

Jason stood up, arms at his sides. “You can call me Mr. Ellis. I’m ready to begin.”

Sweet Christ, Daphne winced behind a steely expression. Let’s just get this over with. “Okay, Mr. Ellis. Let us begin.”

She took a seat on the opposite side of the round table. According to Jason’s research, softer shapes created a more relaxed and open environment. The look on Daphne’s face made him reconsider his confidence in that research.

“Tell me some things about yourself,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Well,” he started. “My name is Jason Aaron Ellis. I live in Peywood, Pennsylvania, and I have been in love with Dartmouth College since I was three years old.” Jason paired a pregnant pause with a soft smile, a “charisma technique” his brother taught him many years ago.

Daphne simply blinked.

“Um, I was watching football, uh college football game with my dad, and that’s who he rooting for, so I started rooting for them,” Jason paused again, this time unscripted. “Not that I’m a follower or unoriginal or anything like that. Even at that age, I could instinctively feel the…. prestige and prominence of the Dartmouth institution.”

“Quite precocious,” Daphne noted.

“Yes, I agree,” Jason replied just too eagerly. “Anyway, it was two years later when I realized my true calling as an engineer. I was always thinking of building things, creating new solutions to old problems, changing the world, just taking apart the wheel and putting it back together as a Dyson Sphere.”

Daphne showed no reaction.

“The Dyson Sphere,” he tried to clarify. “A kind of super solar panel that-”

“I know what the Dyson Sphere is,” Daphne replied without a shred of emotion.

That froze Jason in place. His eyes blinked frantically while his mouth hung open, the ultimate faux pas his mother warned him to never indulge. Daphne saw the disaster unfolding in front of her and willed her face to not let a smile escape. His face having turned red, Jason carefully calibrated his next words.

“Not to imply that someone of your caliber would not have…. heard about the Dyson Sphere. It was always more of a speculative weapon, I mean device, an energy reactor to be specific, I would never try to make weapons-”

Daphne held up her left index finger. “I’m gonna stop you there. For both our sakes. I can ask you about the grades on your resume, your ninety hours of community service, or those shiny extracurriculars, but we both know how this going to end. Dartmouth only has ‘prestige and prominence’ so long we foster a student body that represents the cream of the human crop. Everyone we admit is simply a tool to accomplish that goal. Now tell me: what the hell do you think a stuttering putz like you has to contribute?”

Jason took a deep breath and resigned himself. Her words were harsh but undeniable. There was no salvaging this utter humiliation. He had never even stood a chance. The threshold had been crossed, and there was nothing left but the nuclear option. 

“Well?” Daphne inquired smugly.

“My parents will donate $50,000,000 to the school.”

“Welcome to Big Green.”