Interview

[Aardvark]

I'm nervous.

 

I'm always nervous at interviews. In the cold reception area, the hard leather couch offer me no comfort as I shift and squirm, trying to relax. A small pile of sweat drenched towelletts is building up in the cup next to me. The reading material is of no help, either. Womens magazines with all the crosswords filled in and fishing magazines. I try to banish thoughts of who would read about fishing rather than go fishing and continue to go over my prepared responses to their most likely questions. But it tugs at my brain.

 

I'm itchy.

 

The suit, it itches. For a position like this one, the clothes make the man. A tailored suit would easily land me the position, so went my reasoning. Due to budget restraints, I had to settle for second best. Visually, it worked, but it didn't fit quite right and it itched in all the places one futilely tries to ignore in public. The receptionists have paid me no attention since asking me kindly to wait. They stared vacantly into space, answering call after call, transferring each away to the nether. Occasionally they prattled to eachother, when the phones went silent. I tried listening in on one of these conversations, but they made the womens magazines seem infinitely more appealing.

 

I'm sweating.

 

I always sweat when I'm nervous. Deodourant kept the smell at bay, but that doesn't stop me feeling uncomfortably moist. The air conditioning was up high, fortunately, giving me an excuse not to remove my jacket. Like anyone would've cared anyway. But still my pores drip fluid. Another towellete soaks my forehead dry as I continue to wait, still puzzled over who bought the fishing magazine.

 

"Mr Black? Mr Schwartz will see you now."

 

The receptionist had already gone to her next call before I could acknowledge her. I stood, straightened my suit and strode with false confidence into the office of Mr Schwartz. Briefcase in one hand, the other uncomfortably empty. I used it to straighten my tie, just to give it something to do. My palm was damp, too. Nothing I could do now. All around me, desk drones. People who sat at a screen all day and did... who knows what? It seemed that none of them actually did anything other than congregate around the desk of another, the coffee machine or the water cooler, talking. All I wanted to do was dry my hand on my pants like any other human, but couldn't, for the risk of being seen and given an odd look.

 

Privacy at last.

 

Outside the office of Mr Schwartz, away from prying eyes, I took the opportunity to wipe my hand dry on the seat of my pants. I imagined that countless other people in my position before me had done the same thing. And I imagined that countless other people had done so, knowing full well that the firm handshake could well be the make or break of the interview. I took a deep breath and knocked five times in quick succession.

 

"Enter!"

 

The door opened for me by some unseen force, revealing the office of Mr Schwartz. Of course, he had two cohorts with him. One on one interviews rarely were, these days. I walked in, shook the hands of the three men and accepted the invitation to have a seat and to a glass of water. My briefcase was placed beside my chair.

 

"Firstly, welcome to Omnicorp"

 

The pleasantries. As he went through the motions, I learned that the two lackeys were known as Smithson and Jackson. I held a straight face, barely. I introduced myself, noting a printout of my CV in front of each of the three men. A few brief questions followed, complete with a light hearted attempt at breaking the intense atmosphere of this room. It was hot. Damnably so. The air was thicker in here, the room smaller. The three men didn't seem to notice

 

"Let us start with your education."

 

He was genuinely impressed with my credentials. Graduated third in my class, with honours, almost groundbreaking bio thesis that opened the doors to world wide corporate applications. References from my professors had already confirmed everything I said, every detail. Occasionally, Mr Schwartz would feed me the end of one of my points, confirming that he already knew everything. I had a feeling he already knew whether or not I was successful.

 

"Your previous occupation?"

 

Not really a question, but delivered with the characteristic raise of tone at the end to indicate thusly. I'd done this job before, I'd excelled in this role. I knew what I had to do and I enjoyed every minute of it. The pay for one of my qualifications was almost dishonestly large, but people with my skills demanded it. We knew how to get what we wanted. It was, after all, our job.

 

"Why did you leave?"

 

The question I saw coming a mile off. But every time I'm asked, every time, my prepared statement deserts my brain faster than the french surrender in a war. I was on my own, once more. The short version always sufficed, though. It technically boiled down to a case of loyalty and trust. Due to a lack of loyalty, a bond of trust was broken. I had to escape that situation.

 

"I'm very impressed"

 

He's dropping hints now. He's professionally wasting time. There's somewhere he doesn't want to be and he's padding out my interview to ensure he doesn't make it. Every time I check the clock, I see it edging closer and closer to five o'clock. Honestly, I'd probably do the same in that position. But I can't let my knowledge turn into overconfidence.

 

"Teamwork"

 

I hate teamwork. I really hate teamwork. Teamwork merely means that another soul is there to get the credit, to shirk the responsibility and to stab you in the back when you need it most. I'd never been on the recieving end, but only because I was quicker with the knife. Professionally speaking, of course. Fortunately, my prepared response came to my rescue.

 

"How flexible are your hours?"

 

He's playing for time, now. I know what I'm required to do, I agreed to them when I sent in my CV. But I knew he would ask, so I humoured him. Eight hour days, no weekends, rostered day off each month, overtime pay, we went through them all, knowing full well that I would see none of my demands. I really didn't mind, though.

 

"Do you have any questions?"

 

I always fire off a few corporate questions here. It's always good to know everything you can about a company that hires you. Even better if it's a company that rejects you. But only for those with a sharp malevolent streak. I liked to think I had one of those, but people still said I'm too nice a guy.

 

"Thankyou very much for your time"

 

Finally. I shook the three hands again, noting the lack of speech from the two henchmen. They were built like henchmen, too. Strong frame to match their grip. I'd have to get some ice for that hand.

 

"I'll be in touch"

 

As I left the office, I felt fairly confident about things. There's always an element of uncertainty, even if you're sure of success. You just never let it show until after the interview is over.

 

Three to five working days later, I received a call. It was official, I was once more employed. A private plane would be awaiting me. I'd already taken the liberty of indicating to my close friends and family I would once more be uncontactable for months at a time. I packed my things and caught a taxi to the airstrip. It felt good to be employed again. Although it did mean my life was now in jeopardy.

 

Being the new chief torturer for an evil supervillian was not without it's risks, but the rewards were plenty for anyone who knew how to keep his hands clean.

 

Intimate knowledge of the applications of a nutcracker to various bodily extremities also helped.

 

Edit: Speilchecker

Edited December 17, 2004 by Aardvark

[Peredhil]

ROTFLOL!

[Venefyxatu]

 

That can only be described with one word : "wonderful"!

I love the way you describe the applicant's feelings and have him make some of the more common mistakes that people just make when they're nervous.

The ending came as a total surprise and actually had me laughing out loud.

 

Great job!

[Mynx]

Sounds like a jobline i need to get into.

Brilliant.

Loved it!

[Gryphon]

Hey, I think I went for that job! I guess they didn't like my interview technique or references.

 

I loved the portrail of the interviewee - so realistic. I know, having been there a number of times in my past. Very nice.