All In A Day's Work

         "How can you just sit there like nothing happened?" Dave gripped his chair struggling to compose himself. His words deflected off of my face and into the background. I heard his exclamation; a response was not necessary. This is the most important part of the interviewing process: the seconds after an initiate sees his competition's downfall.

         Earlier we were sitting in discussion as Dave and Frank sat taking short sips of coffee. They could not see my fingers fidgeting over two buttons as I sat listening to their personal reports. All it takes is one mistake and - FLASH - one would be toast while the other would be on the border between freaking out and keeping cool.

         Now Frank's corpse sat smoldering as I awaited Dave's next move, finger on the button. Maybe he would cower in fear and crumple under the weight of it all. Perhaps he may try to flee, running into the six-inch steel doors that protect my office. Any second now I could decide Dave's fate as well. Some days it's a pit with spikes beneath a trap door. On others it's a tank of hungry piranhas. When I'm feeling like a bit of fun I'll order a beat down via henchmen. But today was too busy for a slow demise. Human incineration was the way to go.

         'I hate to waste two lackeys in one sitting,' I thought to myself. Behind my desk I sit rubbing the other button, grinning slightly in anticipation for Dave's response. For what seemed like ages he only trembled, looking back and forth between my wicked stare and the smoking corpse of Frank. But now he sat up tall in his chair, cleared his throat and leaned toward my desk.

         "What kinda' job you got for me, boss?"