I had been stressing out for days. I had done my research, figured out the program I wanted to get into, and even started pulling together my old transcripts and letters of recommendation. But the truth hit me like a ton of bricks when I saw the fine print on the program's website: the application deadline had passed over a month ago.
I sat at my desk, staring at the screen in disbelief. WTF? I had been so focused on figuring out what I wanted to do with my life that I hadn't even thought to check the deadlines. The psychology program I wanted, the one I had my heart set on, wasn't even accepting applications anymore. I was too late.
My mind raced, trying to come up with a solution, but I was drawing a blank. I couldn't wait until the next semester. I needed to start now, to get my life back on track. I wasn't about to spend another six months in limbo. But the reality of the situation was hitting hard—I was screwed.
I had no other options. None that made sense, anyway. Except for one.
Vanessa.
She had always come through for me before, always found a way to help when I needed it. But this felt like a big ask. This wasn't about money—this was about pulling some serious strings, bending the rules, maybe even pushing the boundaries a little. And even though I hated the idea of relying on her for this, I knew I didn't have a choice.
So, that evening, I found myself sitting in her living room once again, feeling more anxious than ever. Vanessa was perched elegantly on the couch, sipping from a glass of wine, her dark eyes studying me with that familiar mix of curiosity and calmness. She could tell something was off the moment I walked in.
"Tristan," she said, setting her glass down. "You look like you're about to lose your mind. What's going on?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I messed up, Vanessa. I fked up bad."
Her expression didn't change, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "What happened?"
I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees as I tried to gather my thoughts. "The psychology program... the one I want to get into? The deadline passed. Over a month ago. I didn't even think to check, and now I'm too late."
Vanessa didn't react right away, just sat there, letting the silence stretch between us for a moment. "So, you missed the deadline," she said finally, her voice measured. "But you still want to get into the program?"
"Yeah," I said, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I need to get into this program, Vanessa. I can't wait another six months or a year. I need to start now."
She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. "And you're asking me to... pull some strings?"
I hesitated, feeling the weight of what I was asking her to do. It wasn't a small favor. This was big—something that would require her to leverage her connections, her influence, and possibly bend a few rules along the way. But I didn't see any other way.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I'm asking you to pull some strings. I hate that I have to ask, but... I don't have any other options."
Vanessa leaned back, crossing her legs and tapping her fingers lightly against the arm of the couch. She was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking it over. Then she smiled, just a little.
"You know," she said, her voice soft but teasing, "it's a good thing I like you."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Vanessa, I—"
She held up a hand, stopping me. "I'll make a few calls," she said simply. "I know some people on the board of admissions. They owe me a favor or two. I'm sure we can find a way to get you in, despite the deadline."
Relief washed over me, but it was mixed with a heavy dose of gratitude. "I don't even know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," she said, giving me that familiar, playful smile. "Just focus on what you're going to do when you get into the program. That's what matters."
I shook my head, still amazed at how easily she handled everything. "I'll pay you back for this. I don't know how yet, but I will."
Vanessa waved her hand dismissively. "Tristan, don't be silly. This isn't about paying me back. I want to help you. I've always wanted to help you. Besides, getting you into that program is nothing compared to some of the things I've pulled off in the past."
I laughed softly, finally letting myself relax a little. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that impression."
She stood up, walking over to where I sat and placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're going to do great things, Tristan. I believe in you. And this psychology program? It's just the beginning."
I looked up at her, feeling a mix of gratitude and something else—something deeper. "Thank you," I said quietly. "I really mean it. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Vanessa smiled again, her eyes softening. "You'd figure it out. You always do. But I'm happy to be here to give you a little push when you need it."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Vanessa made a few calls, her voice smooth and confident as she spoke to whoever was on the other end. She didn't go into detail with me, but I could tell by the way she handled things that she was making it happen, pulling the right strings, saying the right things. By the time I left that night, she had already reassured me that I'd be in the program by the end of the week.
***
A few days later, I got the email. I was in.
I stared at the screen in disbelief for a few moments, reading the words over and over again, as if they might change if I blinked. I was in the program. Despite being way past the deadline, despite everything that should have made it impossible, Vanessa had made it happen.
I called her immediately.
"Vanessa," I said as soon as she picked up, my voice barely containing my excitement. "I'm in. I don't know how the hell you pulled it off, but I'm in."
Her laugh on the other end of the line was warm, almost teasing. "I told you I'd take care of it, didn't I?"
"You did," I said, still grinning like an idiot. "But seriously, I don't know how to thank you. This is... this is huge."
"Just do well in the program," she said softly. "That's all the thanks I need."
"I will," I promised. "I won't let you down."
"I know you won't," she replied, her voice full of confidence. "Now go celebrate. You've earned it."
I hung up, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. Things were finally falling into place, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was headed in the right direction.
Q: What do you think about using connections in this case?