Exercice de Style: A Little Mouse With Clogs On

There he was, nestled deep in the pocket of a very tall man with an impossibly long neck, peeking out at the bustling streets of Paris through a small tear in the fabric. The mouse, with his tiny clogs clicking softly against each other, could hardly contain his excitement. He had come all the way from the countryside, hitchhiking and stowing away from Utrecht to Paris, and today—today—he was finally here, just outside the offices of DJG Consulting.

DJG Consulting. The name echoed in his small, mousey mind. He had heard tales, whispered by rats in alleyways and sung by pigeons on rooftops, of this extraordinary recruitment firm. Some said they were the best in Paris, perhaps even the best in Europe. And so, here he was. The little mouse with clogs on, determined to seek his fortune, determined to be a part of their illustrious team.

As the bus slowed down, he caught his first real glimpse through the windows of the DJG Consulting offices. Inside, he saw what could only be described as joy. There was dancing—he was sure of it! A flash of green maracas, laughter, celebration. Surely, this could only mean one thing: they had secured yet another successful placement. DJG Consulting wasn’t just a recruitment firm. No, they were something much greater. They were orchestrators of opportunity, a finely tuned machine that brought talent and vision together. He knew he belonged there.

But now, a small tremor of nervousness skittered down his spine. After all, he was just a little mouse from the countryside. Who was he to try his luck in this grand, glittering city? He had no formal qualifications, no polished résumé. All he had were his clogs, his determination, and his wits. He had made it all the way from Utrecht without a single coin to his name, navigating foreign lands and strange faces. He had spoken to cats, birds, old ladies, and even bus drivers, all of them charmed by his plucky attitude and unstoppable determination.

The lady driving the bus today had smiled when he clambered on. She seemed kind, and he felt a little more at ease hiding in this funny-looking man’s pocket. If he could talk to a bus driver, surely he could talk to DJG Consulting! He had, after all, learned to speak many languages—French, Dutch, English, Mouse, and even a little Cat. Surely they would see how resilient and resourceful he was. Surely they would see that, despite his size and humble origins, he could contribute something meaningful.

The bus came to a gentle halt, and the long-necked man shifted in his seat. The little mouse with clogs on could feel his heart beating faster now. This is it, he told himself. This is why I’m here. I came all this way for this moment. His tiny paws fidgeted with the small strap of his little bag, the one holding his most treasured belongings—an old acorn cap and a button from a sailor’s coat he found along the way.

He glanced out again at the glowing windows of DJG Consulting. They were the finest recruitment professionals he could ever hope to meet. He was certain of that. And they were more wonderful than he could have imagined. This was the place where talent thrived, where opportunities were created. And he, this small mouse with clogs, was ready to make his pitch.

He whispered the words to himself, as he had done many times during his journey: The World Belongs to Risk Takers! And with that, he clicked his tiny clogs together, braced himself, and prepared to leap from the pocket and make his way into the world of DJG Consulting.

Today, he would take his chance. Today, he would speak.