The Audition

I've always been told I'm a good dancer, especially at weddings and parties. I happened to be between jobs and figured I'd use my talents to find employment. I first applied as an instructor at a square dancing school. I offered to add twerking to the curriculum, but traditionalist owners turned me down.
I tried to join a male exotic dance group, but my five foot height worked against me. I thought about my strengths. I was graceful, flexible, and a good leaper. Voila! Ballet!
I wasn't completely ignorant. I knew Balanchine was a big deal and the competition would be stiff. Certainly I was nervous before the audition. He sat on a stool, wearing an immaculate white shirt that matched his longish hair. His dark slacks had a perfect crease; his glasses slid down his nose. The entire troupe stopped to watch.
I choose K.C. & The Sunshine Band's "That's the Way I Like It" as my music. I tore into my choreography, throwing in spins, splits and a cartwheel--people loved my cartwheels at weddings. I was sure I nailed it.
When the music ended no one spoke. They were stunned. I sensed he was going to hug me as he approached. I sensed wrong. He kicked me hard in the shin and screamed at me to get out. In English and French.
I eventually found a job selling shoes for Payless. When it's slow, I'll retreat to the stockroom and practice my moves. Hope dies hard. At least I outlived the bastard.