Fiction Friday: April 28

How to Ruin an Interview

Mr. Pinchbody slapped the stack of resumes down on the table, hard. “Here are twenty people more qualified than you, willing to work for shit and to lick my shoes with their tongues! What are you willing to do?”

The young man quailed in his chair. “I— er— got very good grades and an internship in the field—”

“Bullshit! Who doesn’t have that? Bob here—” he grabbed a random resume “—graduated from Yale at twelve, won silver in the Olympics at tiddlywinks, and has a Nobel Prize in coffee making.”

“I don’t think—”

Mr. Pinchbody snatched another resume. “Sara got an MD in literature, sells yachts to impoverished children in the Sahara, and once killed a man with a paper clip!”

“But!”

“You don’t have any of that! You’re done here! Get out!”

Slowly, the young man stood. He shuffled out of the office, shoulders slumped.

As soon as he was gone, Mr. Pinchbody’s secretary stepped inside. “How’d it go, sir?”

“That’ll teach any son of mine to stay out of this company! Now, give this Sara a call. I’ve got the perfect position for her.”

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