more
coffee, and an espresso machine was added to the list of things to
buy - this instant filth was corroding my taste buds.
"Imp!" No answer.
"Imp!" A purr from the drawing room indicated that Imp was at its
customary spot. "Imp, turn that off!"
There was a hiss,
followed by the high-pitched squeal of a cheap remote, and my
familiar finally deigned to enter the study. All three feet of its
mottled grey-and-glass skin bristled with contrition. A clever
ploy; I decided I was not angry at it after all.
"Coffee," I said,
holding out my now empty cup. "And find me something to eat, will
you?"
Barely two minutes
later, I had a steaming cup of coffee, and a small plate of
chocolate biscuits on my desk, reminding me of why I tolerated the
impertinence - chocolate biscuits and efficiency were not to be
trifled with.
Purr
brrup?
"Dig up the paperwork
Petra sold us."
Squeak!
Squeak?
"Yes, on Friday. And
if you behave yourself, I'll get you cable next week."
Purr.
#
Reputable netizens were of the
opinion that all software engineers wanted to work for JCN. And it
was in one of JCN's conference rooms that I found myself on Monday
morning, cooling my heels.
It wasn't till 28:23 that a large
middle-aged man entered the room, and gripped my hand in a
bone-crushing handshake.
A student of 'Manage with Power!'
self-help seminars, evidently.
"You have a very impressive
resume," he said, "for an entry level candidate."
"Thank you, sir." At $3,000 per
professionally typeset page, it better be impressive.
"Have a seat, Mr.
Penn."
"Thank you, sir."
"Let's start with why you want to
work for JCN."
Smile #23 twisted my lips upwards,
tinged my eyes with the right proportion of bravura and warmth.
"Would you like the approved interview response, or the
truth?"
His pupils dilated. "Whatever you
want to tell me."
So I hadn't misread the man - in
his book, boldness equated to honesty, charm to skill. Mr.
Management was going to hire me today.
The surety sat in my stomach like
warm vanilla pudding throughout the rest of the
interview.
"I think that's about it," he
said, after thirty-two minutes. "It was a pleasure talking to
you."
"Same here, sir," I said. Just
then, the door to the conference room slammed open.
"Hey!" said Mr. Management. "We
were just about done."
"Thought I'd drop by," said the
newcomer. "You know, Lead Developer interviewing a tech
guy?"
Lead Developer? A new variable.
Abrupt, bespectacled, unkempt hair. And very attractive. At least,
very much my type. Another variable, but not necessarily a bad one
– people tend to react rather well to admiration.
"Hello sir," I said, standing and
extending my hand.
Mr. Lead Developer gave me an
irritated smile, and took a seat. Then, after a moment or two of
leafing through my resume, he looked up.
"Caltech, huh?"
It all went downhill from
there.
"What is a pure virtual
function?"
"What is the diamond problem, and
how can it be avoided?"
Charm, flattery, challenge, every
conversational gambit in my diplomatic arsenal was ignored; he dug
for undiluted data with the single-minded ferocity of an attack
dog.
"Why the hell would you use a loop
for that?"
The questions were purely
malicious; he'd plumbed the rather shallow depths of my technical
knowledge a third of the way through the interrogation.
"How would you go
about-"
"Sir," I said, "I honestly don't
know. This is why I would like to work here, and gain from your
experience and leadership so I can make a valuable
contri-"
"Stop playing buzz-word bingo, Mr.
Penn. Do you, or do you not know how to..."
The one and only correct response
I managed to provide was a quick solution to a mathematical
algorithm. The windows diffused the mid-morning sunlight into
something soft, a mocking counterpoint to the stinging papercut I
acquired from the edges of my neatly stapled CV.
"Well, I think that's it," said
Mr. Lead Developer finally, and got to his feet.
Through it all, Mr. Management had
been sitting
coffee, and an espresso machine was added to the list of things to
buy - this instant filth was corroding my taste buds.
"Imp!" No answer.
"Imp!" A purr from the drawing room indicated that Imp was at its
customary spot. "Imp, turn that off!"
There was a hiss,
followed by the high-pitched squeal of a cheap remote, and my
familiar finally deigned to enter the study. All three feet of its
mottled grey-and-glass skin bristled with contrition. A clever
ploy; I decided I was not angry at it after all.
"Coffee," I said,
holding out my now empty cup. "And find me something to eat, will
you?"
Barely two minutes
later, I had a steaming cup of coffee, and a small plate of
chocolate biscuits on my desk, reminding me of why I tolerated the
impertinence - chocolate biscuits and efficiency were not to be
trifled with.
Purr
brrup?
"Dig up the paperwork
Petra sold us."
Squeak!
Squeak?
"Yes, on Friday. And
if you behave yourself, I'll get you cable next week."
Purr.
#
Reputable netizens were of the
opinion that all software engineers wanted to work for JCN. And it
was in one of JCN's conference rooms that I found myself on Monday
morning, cooling my heels.
It wasn't till 28:23 that a large
middle-aged man entered the room, and gripped my hand in a
bone-crushing handshake.
A student of 'Manage with Power!'
self-help seminars, evidently.
"You have a very impressive
resume," he said, "for an entry level candidate."
"Thank you, sir." At $3,000 per
professionally typeset page, it better be impressive.
"Have a seat, Mr.
Penn."
"Thank you, sir."
"Let's start with why you want to
work for JCN."
Smile #23 twisted my lips upwards,
tinged my eyes with the right proportion of bravura and warmth.
"Would you like the approved interview response, or the
truth?"
His pupils dilated. "Whatever you
want to tell me."
So I hadn't misread the man - in
his book, boldness equated to honesty, charm to skill. Mr.
Management was going to hire me today.
The surety sat in my stomach like
warm vanilla pudding throughout the rest of the
interview.
"I think that's about it," he
said, after thirty-two minutes. "It was a pleasure talking to
you."
"Same here, sir," I said. Just
then, the door to the conference room slammed open.
"Hey!" said Mr. Management. "We
were just about done."
"Thought I'd drop by," said the
newcomer. "You know, Lead Developer interviewing a tech
guy?"
Lead Developer? A new variable.
Abrupt, bespectacled, unkempt hair. And very attractive. At least,
very much my type. Another variable, but not necessarily a bad one
– people tend to react rather well to admiration.
"Hello sir," I said, standing and
extending my hand.
Mr. Lead Developer gave me an
irritated smile, and took a seat. Then, after a moment or two of
leafing through my resume, he looked up.
"Caltech, huh?"
It all went downhill from
there.
"What is a pure virtual
function?"
"What is the diamond problem, and
how can it be avoided?"
Charm, flattery, challenge, every
conversational gambit in my diplomatic arsenal was ignored; he dug
for undiluted data with the single-minded ferocity of an attack
dog.
"Why the hell would you use a loop
for that?"
The questions were purely
malicious; he'd plumbed the rather shallow depths of my technical
knowledge a third of the way through the interrogation.
"How would you go
about-"
"Sir," I said, "I honestly don't
know. This is why I would like to work here, and gain from your
experience and leadership so I can make a valuable
contri-"
"Stop playing buzz-word bingo, Mr.
Penn. Do you, or do you not know how to..."
The one and only correct response
I managed to provide was a quick solution to a mathematical
algorithm. The windows diffused the mid-morning sunlight into
something soft, a mocking counterpoint to the stinging papercut I
acquired from the edges of my neatly stapled CV.
"Well, I think that's it," said
Mr. Lead Developer finally, and got to his feet.
Through it all, Mr. Management had
been sitting
Similar Books
![Bowles, Jan - Claimed for the Master's Pleasure [Guilty Pleasures 5] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/473996/thumbs/152x264/bowles-jan-claimed-for-the-masters-pleasure-guilty-pleasures-5-siren-publishing-everlasting-classic.jpg)
