Wall Street Institute, France

A few comments from happy employees of Wall Street, safely archived from the web for openers:

“You should clear about 11 euros an hour. That might hold you over till you find a real teaching job.”

“So they only pay 11 euros an hour, but you get to have "encounters" with the students? Shocked on company time or your own? Wink”

”Wall Street in my experience are just slick businessmen in suits and beneath all the clever marketing are basically cowboys. They regularly go bust around Europe (many recently in Spain and a few in France - Lyon, Paris, Rouen). Avoid them like the plague. ”

”Although I've never worked in one myself, I've yet to meet a former WS employee with a good word to say about them. I love their marketing on the metro: "98% pass rate" i.e. our own internal test. ”

”Calling Wall Street an 'Institute' is like calling McDonalds a 'RESTAURANT.'

”I see from their ads on the metro that you can take their diagnostic test absolutely FREE and without committing to a course. Now that's what I call a special offer!!! ”

”Does this mean WSI are now borrowing marketing techniques from the Scientologists and the Hare Krishnas? ”

”No, they are way better then Scientologists or 'would you like a free book' Krishnas. They don't call student's limited time with a teacher a lesson - it's an 'encounter.' Really. ”

Inspector McHammered of the Lard
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The Inspector finally departs!

I had been informed that the Dutch ski slopes were high up and that Interpol was in Holland. As I have previously reported, I was wrong on both counts. High? Well I was certainly high as a kite on what I had innocently believed was a Marlboro light and had a very nasty moment at Heathrow as I looked a bit of a wreck and not my usual dapper self . Luckily I pulled rank with my connections at Scotland Lard, exited the airport, a bit sharpish shall we say, and decided to return the next day to fly to Lyon, where I was assured Interpol were based, and do a bit of proper skiing and begin my "Round the TEFL World in Eighty Days" journey in France.

The only problem with France, in the Inpector's view is the French. Great scenery, shaggable women, great weather down south but.... and it's a big but, The Inspector takes a dim view of any country whose staple diet is basically slugs (with shells), frogs, brains, bollocks and ehrm........ well you get my drift. The police look like some of those on the streets in China, with their big clubs and not a lot going on upstairs! Not so unlike some of the seedy strip joints in Amsterdam I researched, but I digress.....

After the experience of the Banana Club in Amsterdam I'm right off fresh fruit and dodgy foreign cigarettes and the Inspector is now on a strict diet of purified yaks milk (organic), the healing properties of this medicine are legendary, and it has been prescribed for me by my English GP. I couldn't take the risk of seeing a doctor in France as I had been tipped off that no sooner have they shaken your hand then they stick something up your behind. Why is it that everything medical in France has to be taken up the "exit" end, rather than nature's natural "entrance" orifice, the mouth, and stuck up your derriere as suppositories? I always knew the French talked through their arses but they seem to use them for a lot of other purposes than which they were intended by the good Lord. Perhaps Paul Lowe of Windsor TEFL courses can enlighten the Inspector, as he can expect a rather large cucumber in the post on Monday, and will undoubtedly be eager to follow the instructions as to what to do with it! I digress again.

I'll be spending some time in this strange land and will kick off with some of the biggest bunch of shysters ever to walk this planet - Wall Street Institute.


Inspector McHammered of the Lard
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