I can do this, I can do this.

I mean, who doesn't know how to do an interview?

(...is what I tell myself in front of the mirror every time I leave for an interview. And if I knew how to do an interview, I wouldn't be repeating this.)

They're impressed with my resumé already, that's why they reached out to contact me.

(Unless they're desperate for people. Or it was an automated message. Or they're not really looking to hire but HR has to go through the motions. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it-)

It'll be better than last time. I already know what questions they're going to ask.

(But I still end up blanking and rattling off irrelevant things whenever they lead with "tell me a little bit about yourself". And don't get me started on those questions full of pitfalls and tricks, designed to screen out actually ambitious employees!)

image [https://i.imgur.com/oxmguch.png[/img]]

(Do I look too desperate? Too frumpy? Should I go with a different shirt?)

My eyes bear the marks of staying up late on social media, my face is a warzone between fatigue and a customer service smile, my reflection - a haunted thing of 23 years looking back at me questioningly: are you sure about this? I've been told I've always had a "deer-in-headlights" kind of look, a nervous habit I can't quite shake despite taking public performance classes.

image [https://i.imgur.com/6nOoYpX.png[/img]]

I fiddle with the silk white blouse and its fake mother-of-pearl buttons almost fly loose. Which, considering this blouse saw at least 5 presidencies, is not a surprise. The pencil skirt is a nice shade of desperate corporate grey, complimenting the look of an unemployed liberal arts student I was unintentionally going for. The cross earring is a small keepsake from a trip to Italy from years ago - one of the few vacations I ever took in my life. And I know the sickle necklace looks a bit out of place here, but I always bring it with me for good luck, as per my own little superstition.

(What will they think when they see me? Will they know I'm poor? Will they make fun of me?)

Does it matter? If they reject me, no one would even remember my name. At least I can take comfort in the sea of anonymity, knowing that everyone everywhere at all times are doing things, and my fleeting existence doesn't even warrant the HR department's long-term memory.

That's right. It's a nice thought - to be a nobody, to be aimless and forgotten and insignificant enough that all my mistakes won't live past tomorrow. I empty the tin of mints into my mouth just in case my smudged makeup and smile aren't enough to win them over.

----------------------------------------

My first mistake, as I pull up into the polished driveway of the unmarked monolith, was applying for this job.

I watched a documentary about Soviet brutalist architecture back in college, for some art project I don't even remember doing. The only thing that stuck with me was the footage of the Russian State Scientific Center: a concrete behemoth that reaches impossibly high into the stratosphere, flanked by sharp edges which point skyward. A galvanized steel crown of mankind's ambition.

Well, whoever designed that tower must've possessed this architect to draw some equally demented blueprints, because it soaks me in its suffocating shadow and forces my gaze up towards the needle-pointed steeple.

"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair." I mutter to myself. Seems appropriate.

image [https://i.imgur.com/BkB3cvW.png[/img]]

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Now, I did do my research before applying for this job. And of course, one of the first things you do when you try to make a good impression at a potential employer's interview, is to show that you've done the work of digging up their background. But the problem with Aemeth Co. is that they seem allergic to any sort of digging, which should've alerted me right away, but the pay was too good to pass up.

(Can you blame me? I spent New Year's Eve in a rental Honda civic!)

Yet Aemeth has nothing to divulge, very little background about what the company actually does, aside from an almost certainly randomly generated "core values" pieced together like Frankenstein's mission statement:

At Aemeth Co. we strive to bring you high quality, empowering, and individualized services that prioritize your needs.

We lead with compassion and believe in the certainty of human progress, as well as a brighter tomorrow.

The company logo, an occult-looking circle-pentagon-star abomination, seems too abstract to convey anything other than the fact that their brand designer really loves straight lines. And of course, the big tagline on the front page of the website, one which simply reads:

𝕆𝕦𝕣 𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

The rest of the website gives off the impression that this is some sort of biotechnology/diagnostics corporation, specializing in fancy shit and expensive shit, sometimes even dangerous shit. That's all I can gather.

I open the double glass doors and the air conditioner blasts me right back to a primordial memory of my ancestors hunting mammoths. As I brush the hair out of my eyes, I notice how quiet the entrance hall is - yes, a whole hall. Tall, arching ceiling with the painted fresco of some Renaissance scholar gazing into an armillary sphere; adding on the long and narrow windows, the single sad plastic fern somehow wilting, and the artificial brightness of a modern sun, this place screams of the ecclesiastical instead of corporate.image [https://i.imgur.com/EKiLWhe.png[/img]]

There is a woman waiting at the desk already. I can't help but wonder if I applied here to be her replacement. As I approach, she looks up from her desk and gets up to greet me, with a smile that's somehow colder than the AC currently turning my sweat into frost.

"You must be-"

"Mara Cypher, here for the interview. Nice to meet you." I shake her hand and try not to recoil at how cold and coarse it feels, I almost thought I was greeting a crocodile. Only the lower half of her face is happy to see me, her eyes fixed onto mine with laser precision.

image [https://i.imgur.com/L1CkG4Q.png[/img]]

"Follow me this way, and we can get started with the interview in the office over there..."

I follow, sheepish, wringing my hands and hoping she didn't notice I was 2 minutes late. Everyone knows the actual interview starts as soon as you walk through the door, and the moment the employer's eyes are upon you, your every move will be scrutinized and graded. Did you close the door behind you, or did you wait for it to swing shut? Did you wipe your shoes on the carpet before coming in? And God forbid they happen to dislike the perfume you put on - too much effort in ironing out every little imperfection makes you a corporate drone, and too little effort awards you with a swift rejection that only arrives 4 weeks later.

As I pass by wide frosted glass windows blotted out by motivational posters, I start noticing more and more warnings and notices posted with all the wrong words.

𝓦𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷

Please do not feed the goldfish, it has already fed

...I really hope that's just a grammatical error and not what I think it's implying.

𝑅𝑒𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 ❀𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓎, 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶❀𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓎

ⁿᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᶜᵒᶠᶠᵉᵉ ᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ¹¹ ᴾᴹ

What the fuck do you mean "real" coffee?

ℑ𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢𝔰

ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ, ᴀʟᴇʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀᴠɪꜱᴏʀ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ

Is this a prank? Some office hazing ritual? Did I get hit on the head and miss out on some new social media trend?

image [https://i.imgur.com/Vin6Ea6.jpeg[/img]]

I'm starting to think I made a really, really bad decision coming here.