This satirical article written in present tense shall tell you what goes on in mind when you go for an interview. Hope you are able to relate.
I reach the venue and realize that the respective company has nestled itself at the 8th floor. I take the lift and reach the office. Amidst construction work, laborers walking by and an eerie silence, I finally see some humans – the staff of the company. I am greeted by an old guard at the gate and after filling in some details, I am made to sit at the reception area.
The company seems to be one of those posh offices equipped with every little detail you can expect. An advertising look alike, the company has a bunch of young men and women working in full chorus. I continue to wait till I am given some papers to fill. Ah! Glorious! It asks for my matriculation grades and the size of my intestine. I fill them with full confidence and give them back. The receptionist sheepishly smiles at me while he collects the papers. I again get back to my seat. I am treated nice with coffee and an opportunity to gaze around for a while. Serious and warm, the environment is.
While, I wait, I see a sophisticated young girl enter office who I mistake as a white. As I feel she is a white, later I hear her speak native. Yayy! She isn’t white. This way, I manage to spend some time waiting. Later, I am graduated to the conference room by the senior IT manager and asked to wait. Now, I can stare around much clearly, every employee, every chair, every door etc. As I make myself comfortable, two men crane their neck in my direction to get a clear view of the latest entry. They retire back to their work because may be I didn’t meet their taste. I look around in the conference room, the right wall on my side is loaded with articles and events of the company and that gives a huge insight on the company’s cycle of events. Further, the things I do to kill time:
- Occasionally check the skin of chairs
- Click some ugly selfies
- Touch the glass window and imagine how it would feel like to fall off
- Stare at the bean bag in red
- Wonder how will people run for their lives during an Earthquake
- Rotate my head towards the staff and see if the same people are working
- Recall the incident that happened in 4th grade and feel embarrassed
I decide to spend some more time in the washroom. I get the directions from the same white girl. I take right and realize the door demands more strength than I am blessed with. Like a magic wand, I take out the strength from my umbilical cord since birth, put my entire force and look around if no one saw me.
The washroom is like those superior ones you find in big offices, airports and hotels. Those places which require training to use a tap. I play with the tap for a while, flip hair here and there and kill some more time. It’s time again to demonstrate my talent of opening that heavy door with the strength of Thor.
I cling to the door knob and dangle to and fro like a child in a swing. Thank heavens! There is no one to see me in this state. Panting and gasping my breath, I take myself out. The office boy is organizing the glasses, he gives me a suspicious look and wonders if I settled a bomb inside. Never mind, I win the battle.
I am back in the room and now the senior manager finally decides to initiate the interview because the concerned person hasn’t reached yet. He decides to ready his handgun and put it on my head and yes, there begins the bombardment. “Why, Why so many switches?”
I retire back to my poker face, take a deep breath and say, “They just happened.” The handgun is still consistent. Meanwhile, the corporate communication personnel enters. The smart female seems to have fought with the world and traffic to reach office. She finally sits in peace, rests her chin on her fist, looks at me through those Elizabethan glasses and swaying gold ‘plaited’ hair.
She is a good listener and a speaker too. But, the gun is still on me. After a cop kind interrogation, the senior manager finally decides to feel peace and talk life. The communication personnel leaves for her work. I am told, “We shall get back to you soon.”
It’s been forever.
Pic courtesy – Google