I hiked up my last pair of six-dollars-and-fifty-eight cents socks and prayed for a slightly-under-forty-k-after-tax miracle.
The Essential Service Provisioners’ building was beige, buried in trees, hopelessly unfindable without GPS. Despite the foliage, I had to shield my eyes from the morning sun. Everything smelled like asphalt. With a nervous flutter, I realized I was creasing my résumé folder.
Opening it to check, my mother’s letter was still unbent. That was good. There was no way to get another one ever again, so I needed to keep this one safe.
With that pleasant thought, I closed the file and walked through the front door.
A grandmotherly looking receptionist completely ignored me as I stepped in. She was focused on- a typewriter? God, what century was it going to be in here? A quick check at the room’s entrances and exits showed me two hallways, a window just next to where I’d come in, and no directory.
“Is this the Essential Service Office?” I chanced aloud.
No answer but the clack of tapping.
I shuffled in place, not quite sure if I should muster the courage to bother her again. It was supposed to be a long day and I needed spoons in my drawer for it.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I settled, quietly.
Lo, these must have been the magic words, except that I had picked the wrong spell to cast. She made direct eye contact with me for an uncomfortable interval before producing a strip of white gum from somewhere on the desk.
The only noises were the wrapper of the gum, and the hum of florescent lights above. They were annoying- and I couldn’t resist the urge to rub my temple to ease the stinging pressure. I couldn’t help but stare at her teeth (partly stained by her crimson lipstick) as she began to chew, mouth open.
“Which way to the um. The interviews?”
She blew a bubble.
“Your left,” she smacked. Baffled and hoping to put some distance between us, I started down the hallway as directed.
There was a clatter behind me. I yelped, turned- she was staring even more intensely.
One more gum bubble, a pop, and: “You can hear me.”
“…am I not supposed to?” That was a dumb question, I nearly kicked myself just thinking it back in my head. She furrowed her brows, but sat again.
“Maybe not,” she smacked with her final gum bubble. She sat back down to continue typing.
Though it pained me to turn my back to her, I did have somewhere to be. The hallway was low ceilings and humming static, but at least it was well lit. Paper signs were pasted against the walls with various pictures.
I gulped my fears down, picturing them in a bottle with a ship, sailing my anxieties away with the tide. So deep into this image was I that I ran straight into something- as it turns out, a gruff looking woman with lanky, brown hair tied under a baseball cap.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” I squeaked. She was way taller than me and muscly to boot.
“S’fine. Are you, by chance, Christine?“
With a hesitant nod, I held out a hand. “Yes, Christine Priyanka. Nice to meet you.”
The woman nodded. “Call me Doc. Everyone does. Please leave.”
“…but I just got here,” I managed. “What’s going on?”
Instead of explaining, Doc frowned. “Go home.”
“I’m here for an interview,” I asserted. In my head, all I could think was, what’s with the chilly reception?
“…Huh. That usually works the first time,” she chuckled. “I mean it. Leave and never come back, never mention this conversation, in fact you didn’t hear it at all.” She raised a hand in my direction and snapped her fingers. I jumped.
…was that smog coming out of her forehead?
I closed my eyes, partly to ward off this ridiculous headache, partly to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
“Look. I need this job. I’m down to my last tank of gas. You could be spitting fire and brimstone and I’m not going anywhere ‘til I’ve said my piece to whoever the recruiter here is. If you’re not here to help me, I’ll find someone else who will even if we’re the last two people in the building. But for goodness sake, please stop with the routine? Ok?”
I opened up my eyes and came face to face with a large, black smoke creature in the room with us.
Doc stared at me instead.
“Well! Guess you really are the one. Congratulations!” With a grin, she took my hand and shook thoroughly.
I couldn’t move, riveted as I was to the sight of a giant smoke demon. Doc inhaled deeply for a moment before blowing the fog away- dissipating it into a harmless cloud. I hoped I was not breathing it in.
“You’re confused, I get it,” she smiled. “Here, come with me behind the desk, there’s a trapdoor to the real office. And yeah. You passed the interview. You’re hired.”
“…just like that?”
“Unless you want to go home right now,” Doc nodded.
Well, I did sort of want to get away from these crazy people and snuggle up in bed with a book, but no more than I usually felt.
“No,” I answered. “I came here for a job.” With a shove, Doc moved the heavy desk six feet to the right, revealing a wooden panel that slid back with a kick.
“Then you’re in the right place.“ The trapdoor made a creaking sound as it slid away. Underneath the panel, I could see brighter lights and hear louder conversations.
“…what exactly is it that you do here?” I asked.
“Never know if you don’t find out for yourself.” With a smirk, Doc jumped through the opening in the floor. I heard her land with a soft “oof.”
Shaking, I reached for the edge to lower myself in after her.
Optimal60 t1_ixt9mx9 wrote
Reply to [WP]I recently got hired by some government acronym, and I’ve learned something interesting: magic is REAL, and migraines are our bodies response to MANA building up to dangerous levels. by mafiaknight
I hiked up my last pair of six-dollars-and-fifty-eight cents socks and prayed for a slightly-under-forty-k-after-tax miracle.
The Essential Service Provisioners’ building was beige, buried in trees, hopelessly unfindable without GPS. Despite the foliage, I had to shield my eyes from the morning sun. Everything smelled like asphalt. With a nervous flutter, I realized I was creasing my résumé folder.
Opening it to check, my mother’s letter was still unbent. That was good. There was no way to get another one ever again, so I needed to keep this one safe.
With that pleasant thought, I closed the file and walked through the front door.
A grandmotherly looking receptionist completely ignored me as I stepped in. She was focused on- a typewriter? God, what century was it going to be in here? A quick check at the room’s entrances and exits showed me two hallways, a window just next to where I’d come in, and no directory.
“Is this the Essential Service Office?” I chanced aloud.
No answer but the clack of tapping.
I shuffled in place, not quite sure if I should muster the courage to bother her again. It was supposed to be a long day and I needed spoons in my drawer for it.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I settled, quietly.
Lo, these must have been the magic words, except that I had picked the wrong spell to cast. She made direct eye contact with me for an uncomfortable interval before producing a strip of white gum from somewhere on the desk.
The only noises were the wrapper of the gum, and the hum of florescent lights above. They were annoying- and I couldn’t resist the urge to rub my temple to ease the stinging pressure. I couldn’t help but stare at her teeth (partly stained by her crimson lipstick) as she began to chew, mouth open.
“Which way to the um. The interviews?”
She blew a bubble.
“Your left,” she smacked. Baffled and hoping to put some distance between us, I started down the hallway as directed.
There was a clatter behind me. I yelped, turned- she was staring even more intensely.
One more gum bubble, a pop, and: “You can hear me.”
“…am I not supposed to?” That was a dumb question, I nearly kicked myself just thinking it back in my head. She furrowed her brows, but sat again.
“Maybe not,” she smacked with her final gum bubble. She sat back down to continue typing.
Though it pained me to turn my back to her, I did have somewhere to be. The hallway was low ceilings and humming static, but at least it was well lit. Paper signs were pasted against the walls with various pictures.
I gulped my fears down, picturing them in a bottle with a ship, sailing my anxieties away with the tide. So deep into this image was I that I ran straight into something- as it turns out, a gruff looking woman with lanky, brown hair tied under a baseball cap.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” I squeaked. She was way taller than me and muscly to boot.
“S’fine. Are you, by chance, Christine?“
With a hesitant nod, I held out a hand. “Yes, Christine Priyanka. Nice to meet you.”
The woman nodded. “Call me Doc. Everyone does. Please leave.”
“…but I just got here,” I managed. “What’s going on?”
Instead of explaining, Doc frowned. “Go home.”
“I’m here for an interview,” I asserted. In my head, all I could think was, what’s with the chilly reception?
“…Huh. That usually works the first time,” she chuckled. “I mean it. Leave and never come back, never mention this conversation, in fact you didn’t hear it at all.” She raised a hand in my direction and snapped her fingers. I jumped.
…was that smog coming out of her forehead?
I closed my eyes, partly to ward off this ridiculous headache, partly to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
“Look. I need this job. I’m down to my last tank of gas. You could be spitting fire and brimstone and I’m not going anywhere ‘til I’ve said my piece to whoever the recruiter here is. If you’re not here to help me, I’ll find someone else who will even if we’re the last two people in the building. But for goodness sake, please stop with the routine? Ok?”
I opened up my eyes and came face to face with a large, black smoke creature in the room with us.
Doc stared at me instead.
“Well! Guess you really are the one. Congratulations!” With a grin, she took my hand and shook thoroughly.
I couldn’t move, riveted as I was to the sight of a giant smoke demon. Doc inhaled deeply for a moment before blowing the fog away- dissipating it into a harmless cloud. I hoped I was not breathing it in.
“You’re confused, I get it,” she smiled. “Here, come with me behind the desk, there’s a trapdoor to the real office. And yeah. You passed the interview. You’re hired.”
“…just like that?”
“Unless you want to go home right now,” Doc nodded.
Well, I did sort of want to get away from these crazy people and snuggle up in bed with a book, but no more than I usually felt.
“No,” I answered. “I came here for a job.” With a shove, Doc moved the heavy desk six feet to the right, revealing a wooden panel that slid back with a kick.
“Then you’re in the right place.“ The trapdoor made a creaking sound as it slid away. Underneath the panel, I could see brighter lights and hear louder conversations.
“…what exactly is it that you do here?” I asked.
“Never know if you don’t find out for yourself.” With a smirk, Doc jumped through the opening in the floor. I heard her land with a soft “oof.”
Shaking, I reached for the edge to lower myself in after her.