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When I get to the Trib. I am informed that the visual display terminals I am to use are leaking radioactivity at dangerous levels. I type for eight straight hours...

Author: By Nancy F. Bauer, | Title: My Happy Summer in France | 3/17/1981 | See Source »

...takes about 45 minutes to get to the Trib. One million Parisians cram into my car between "Louvre" and "George V," and when I stand up to get some air my seat snaps up and catches the bottom of my dress. No one sees this, but I pretend I know what I am doing anyway. I get off of the metro two stops too early and walk one mile to the Trib. I am one-half hour late; my dress has grease stains on it. It is raining...

Author: By Nancy F. Bauer, | Title: My Happy Summer in France | 3/17/1981 | See Source »

...deputy editor who hired me is in a quandary because he cannot decide when to hold the semiannual editorial staff party. Everyone tells him that the 4th of July would be perfect since almost all of the Trib's employees are Americans and since it is a Friday. But the D.E. is paranoid: he is afraid to make a decision that no one will trust. So he calls me. the lowliest peon in the building. into his office for my opinion. I suggest the 4th of July. He remains unconvinced...

Author: By Nancy F. Bauer, | Title: My Happy Summer in France | 3/17/1981 | See Source »

Paris truly is a meeting place of cultures: Men from all over the world have followed me around the city. Today the Trib sends me to the suburb of Nanterre, not to cover a story, but to get a French social security number so that I can be paid. I have the equivalent of $10 left to my name. On the way back, a man from Zambia asks me if he can speak English with me. I cannot very well say no because he has followed me from the social security office to the metro and has inadvertently paid...

Author: By Nancy F. Bauer, | Title: My Happy Summer in France | 3/17/1981 | See Source »

...looks at my left hand. "Why no ring?" He is glaring. We are at my metro stop: I run quickly. People at the Trib tell me I should have immediately yelled at the strange man. "Vas te faire foutre!" This apparently means "Go fuck yourself...

Author: By Nancy F. Bauer, | Title: My Happy Summer in France | 3/17/1981 | See Source »

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