The sun's soft rays gently crept into Jasmine's modest apartment, casting a warm glow that heralded the start of a new day. It was a day like any other, one of relentless struggle and boundless love, and it began with the task that defined her existence: getting her two beloved children ready for the day. As she tiptoed through the tiny apartment, Jasmine couldn’t help but think about the job interview she’s been preparing for ever since she received a response from that job ad. In the smaller of the two bedrooms, her daughter, Imani, lay tangled in a sea of blankets, her tousled hair framing her peaceful face. In the other room, her son, Malik, snuggled up with his stuffed bear, his tiny chest rising and falling with the rhythm of innocent dreams. These were the moments Jasmine cherished when her children were still tucked in their dreams, free from the realities of their challenging lives.
Jasmine approached Imani's bed first, her fingers gently brushing away a lock of the girl's messy hair. "Wake up, Imani," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. Imani stirred, her sleepy eyes blinking open, and she offered her mother a drowsy smile. "Morning, Mommy," she mumbled. The next room held the boy, Malik, who was known for his perpetual energy but seemed to have misplaced it in the night. With a loving smile, Jasmine placed a gentle kiss on Malik's forehead, coaxing him into the land of the living with a soft, "Time to wake up, little man." As the children slowly roused from their slumber, the rush of the morning began. Jasmine had perfected the art of efficiency, and every minute counted. She helped Imani into her school uniform, brushed her hair, and helped her with her tiny shoes. Meanwhile, Malik had started to squirm, the prospect of getting dressed not holding his attention for long. Jasmine deftly guided his tiny limbs into his pants and shirt, all while managing the morning rush.
Breakfast was a simple cereal and milk, the sound of spoons clinking against bowls and giggles filling the small kitchen. Jasmine hardly had a moment to take a bite herself, the needs of her children taking precedence over her own. Amidst the feeding, dressing, and preparation for the day ahead, Jasmine was also on the phone with her best friend, Alexus. It was a juggling act of motherhood and conversation, the connection to Alexus providing a much-needed lifeline during these trying times.
"Jasmine, you for real 'bout this interview?" Alexus's voice crackled through the phone's speaker. Jasmine's hands never stopped moving. "Girl, I don't got a choice. Life's been a non-stop struggle since I lost my job. Bills pilin' up, landlord breathin' down my neck. Ain't got the luxury to be picky."
"But this Exclusive Enterprises thing... I did some digging, and I couldn't find anything about them. It's all so sketchy," Alexus insisted.
"I know, I know," she replied, her voice tinged with desperation. "But if it's real, if it's a chance to provide for my kids, I gotta check it out. Can't just sit here and do nothin' while we drownin' in bills. Rent is due soon and unless you planning to give me fifteen hundred..." Silence responded to her on the other line.
“We ain't drownin', Mommy. Ain't no water.” Imani corrected her mom.
“You right, baby, we ain't drownin'. We gonna make it.” Jasmine smiled at her daughter, refusing to let the chance to provide for her children pass by.
The weight of her responsibilities and the relentless challenges of single motherhood bore down on Jasmine. She had once dreamt of a better life, one where her children had all they needed, a stable job, and a partner to share it all with. But life had thrown her curveballs, leaving her with a mountain of responsibilities and dreams nonexistant. As the call continued, Jasmine finished preparing her children, her heart a mixture of pride and sadness. She was a mother who had to be both protector and provider, a role she never imagined for herself. But, for her children, she would do whatever it took to give them a better life.
After dropping Imani and Malik off at daycare, she took a deep breath and headed to the address she had received for the job interview. With every mile driven, she clung to the fragile hope that this opportunity could be her chance. Eventually, Jasmine made it to the office building where the job interview was supposed to happen. She parked in the parking lot, noticing a lot of other cars parked as well. “Girl, there’s like dozens of cars in this parking lot! There’s no way this ain’t real.” Jasmine said as she got out of her car.
“Y’all could all be stupid and desperate,” Alexus noted.
“Bitch, shut up.” Jasmine laughed as she made it to the entrance. “Alright, I gotta go. I’ll call you back in a bit to see if this shit is real or not.”
“If you get kidnapped or some shit, I’ll call the cops for you. You better call me right after, bitch.” Alexus threatened her out of concern.
“I will! Bye!” Jasmine hung up as she got inside.
Thankfully, since so many people were applying for this job, she didn’t have to look around like she was lost. She just followed where everyone else was going although they looked lost too, shid… Why weren’t there any employees directing them to where the interview was taking place? Having them walk through this big-ass office building all lost and shit… Jasmine hadn’t lost her baby weight yet, and this little adventure wasn’t doing her legs any favors.
“H-Hey, everyone! Please come in and take a seat. If you can’t find any available seats, just take some from another room. I’ll wait until you’re all situated before I get to explaining everything for the job position.” In Jasmine's opinion, a young man who was a little too young was dressed in a suit, which made Jasmine question the saying, “The suit makes the man.” And not in a good way.
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It took a few minutes until everyone was seated inside the large meeting room. The young man waited a little longer for the stragglers who were late to find their way in. With a nervous smile on his face, he clapped his hands as he got all of their attention. “I’m not really good at this speaking in front of a crowd thing, but I’ll try my best.” He admitted.
“So, you all are here for the job, right? The one promising a liveable wage, adventure, and excitement, something different from the dull, boring everyday 9-5 job?” He asked. “Ah, wai-” Before he could finish, some people cheered.
“Before I get into that, let me introduce myself. You can call me Ethan. I will be the person who pays you if you decide to go through with this job.” Ethan swept his eyes across the crowd.
“Hey, Ethan.” Some people decided to say at the same time.
“H-Hello.” He was surprised. “Anyway, I have to apologize as I wasn’t entirely honest about the job position.” He bowed.
“So this whole thing was a fucking lie?” A man yelled.
“Kind of, but it depends on which part you consider a lie or not.” Many people started to get angry in the crowd, grumbling. Some people even started to get up from their seats, ready to walk out.
“Wait! Before you go, at least hear me out! Please. If you want to leave after, please feel free. But let me tell you some stuff about the position first.” Ethan begged.
The people stopped walking as they gave him a chance to talk. Ethan coughed to clear his throat before taking a deep breath. “Look, I get it. This probably sounds shady as hell, and I'm not here to pretend otherwise. But I won't waste your time with empty promises and shitty speeches. I was a shut-in just a while ago, and I know this isn't your typical job offer.” He fidgeted. "The truth is, this gig isn't for everyone. It's not a standard 9-to-5 grind; it's unpredictable, and it involves things that most folks wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. If you're looking for normality and comfort, you might want to walk out that door.” Some people did.
"But if you're at a point in life where you're fed up with the same old, same old, drowning in bills, and ready to take a risk, then hear me out. We're building an organization of unconventional thinkers, folks who don't mind bending the rules. We need adaptability, a willingness to face the unknown, and the ability to think on your feet.” He glanced at the people leaving. "The pay is good, I won't lie. Way better than what 90% of jobs are offering for people with your experience and job history. This job is mainly for those people who desperately need money no matter what. But here's the deal. Our work requires discretion, so you'd need to keep your lips sealed. We operate outside the law. We're looking for people who can handle that type of thing and are willing to do whatever it takes for the bread.” He honestly shared.
"To put it plainly, I’m asking you to join a criminal organization. You will get paid a sizeable cut based on how much we get from each job we accomplish until we manage to settle down and officially get our group off the ground. By that point, we’ll be working in an hourly rate type of pay, which will be at the very least 25 dollars an hour but also will have higher requirements for future employees. Unless you passed college with a decent degree and impressive job history, you all most likely won’t get the chance to work in an organization like this." Ethan held his chest. “Now, are there any questions for those who would like to continue?”
“Yeah, how much are we going to get fucking paid if we join now?” A large man questioned.
“It depends on the job and how much we get from the job. The usual commission rate is between 1% and 5%. So if we complete a job with a payout of over 100k, you’ll be going home with 1,000 dollars or 5,000 dollars. I don’t expect many of you to stay after hearing this was actually a gang recruitment, so that percentage might rise depending on how many I manage to convince.” Ethan answered.
"What kind of jobs are we talking about here? Can you give us some examples of what we'd be doing?" A glasses-wearing lady asked.
“Extortion and protection rackets, organized theft and burglary, money laundering, possible racketeering, kidnapping and ransom, and organized violence,” Ethan answered off the top of his head.
"Is this legal work? Are we going to be in trouble with the law?"
“N-No and yes.” Ethan felt a little exasperated at that dumb question.
"You mentioned discretion. How serious are you about keeping things quiet? What happens if someone talks?"
“Well, I can’t really stop you from talking now. However, if you join the group, things will be different. Many people's livelihoods will be at stake if someone talks.” Ethan didn’t directly answer the question.
"Are there any benefits or perks to this job, like health insurance or retirement plans?"
“Heh, no.” Ethan chuckled at the absurd question.
"What kind of safety measures do you have in place to protect your employees?"
“None.” Ethan honestly answered.
"How do we know we'll actually get paid? What if you decide not to pay us after a job?"
“Then I give you all full permission to beat me up and forcefully take your cut,” Ethan responded.
"Do we have to provide our own equipment, or will that be provided?"
“If you can, it would be helpful, but you don’t have to. It’s your safety and pay on the line, not mine. I would advise you to buy a mask or things to help hide your identity.”
"What's the long-term plan for this organization? Where do you see it going in the future?"
“Geez, I thought I was doing the interviewing… But to repeat, we plan to become a legitimate company in the near future.” Ethan rubbed the back of his head.
He answered a few more questions from people who were surprisingly not turned off by the fact that they were joining an actual criminal group. Out of the large group that entered the room, a not-so-small portion remained and actually was on board with joining. Ethan jotted down their personal information on his phone to contact at a later date when a job was available. When everyone left the meeting room, he sighed as the mental exhaustion hit all at once. He slumped down in his chair, simply listening to the beat of his own heart. Did it say more about society that crime was more attractive than an honest job and even preferred compared to searching for one that doesn’t go against the law?