The Grant~An IT Crowd Fanfiction

Standard Job Interviews

Douglas, as usual, was looking at porn.

Well, not conventional porn. He'd found this strange new website, FanHub.net, where there was a bunch of extremely well-written erotica. Not just the trash he normally went for—this was the real deal. He'd found a really good one about a very sexy man named Han who was introducing his girlfriend Leia to the wonderful world of dominance and subordination. Written in prose that danced like a ballerina, it was quite possibly the sexiest thing Douglas had ever read. He was instantly hooked about three lines in.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Leia whispered.

"Don't worry, baby," said Han. "Keep still."

"Jesus Christ," Douglas whispered.

The door to his office burst open, and in stepped his secretary. "Our new employee Miss Eklund is here to see you, Mr. Reynholm."

"Oh, uh..."

Just as he was about to close out of the tab, giant advertisements of scantily clad women exploded all over the screen. They were the kind with those ultra-tiny X's in the corners, so every time he closed out of one he was directed to these weird websites. He eventually decided to just pick up his entire computer and shove it under the desk.

"Send her in," he said shakily, still feeling a little turned-on.

"Yes, sir."

She left, and in stepped a slender girl with a slight tummy and a messy ponytail. She was wearing a weird-looking t-shirt, a navy-blue cardigan, Converse shoes, and skinny jeans. She also had giant black horn-rimmed glasses with little diamonds on the sides, and chubby acne-filled cheeks. Her only other accessories were a yellow backpack and a small map in one hand. She was rather slovenly-looking, as though she'd never worn a scrap of makeup in her life and she'd slept in her clothes the night before...on the street.

"Ah, hello," said Douglas. "You must be the new toilet cleaner. We've been expecting you for quite some time now."

The girl's eyes widened. "Uh—"

"You showed up right on time. Now sit down so we can begin our interview."

There was a beat as the girl took everything in, then she inched forward and said, "Okay."

"Great."

She went to the chair in front of Douglas' desk and sat down without removing the rather large backpack. Douglas took a moment to adjust himself—which he failed to do in a dignified manner, something the new employee couldn't help but notice. She winced slightly and looked down.

"Alright," he grunted. "So. Where shall we start?"

"Uh...I don't know."

"I suppose I should actually bother to look at this list of standard interview questions I downloaded from the Internet this morning. Perhaps that would help us."

The girl laughed slightly, and he shot her a confused frown. She looked down and said quietly, "Maybe."

"Okay, let's start with this one. Why do you want a job in toilet cleaning?"

The girl stared at him blankly, eyebrows raised.

"Well?"

His voice was so loud it made the room shake. "Uh, I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"Uh, because toilet cleaning is such a tricky field, sir."

"Oh. Well, I can see why you'd apply here. We have some of the cleanest toilet facilities in the world. We've been number one competitively for quite a few years now. Not to mention that they're all unisex."

"That's actually one of the reasons I applied here," she said shakily, clasping her hands in her lap. "It's so groundbreaking how you've completely obliterated gender-specific bathrooms. A lot of companies are so terrified to embrace the gender spectrum and those who are nonbinary. It takes a lot of courage, and that's very admirable. You're a great role model for companies like you."

Douglas frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about. Our unisex toilets are specifically designed to orchestrate extramarital affairs. I've never even heard of the gender spectrum."

The girl's eyes bulged and she looked down. "A story for another time, then."

"Wonderful. Well, anyway, that seems about good enough. All these other questions sound like typical fare, and you definitely look the part, so I'm just going to hire you right now."

"Oh."

"Welcome to the Reynholm Industries toilet cleaning team, Miss...?"

"Actually, Mr. Reynholm," she quickly butt in, looking down and speaking as quickly as she could without being unintelligible. "But my name is Imogene Anne Eklund and I've come to take the job you offered me in Information Technology. I've never cleaned a toilet in my life and I don't intend to, sorry to say. You've obviously mistaken me for someone else."

Imogene's eyes moved up to Douglas' again. He looked completely unfazed.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's alright," he assured. "It happens all the time. Although, to be frank, I wouldn't have made the mistake if you didn't dress like a toilet cleaner in the first place. I mean, damn. You're shoddier than a common prostitute, and they're pretty damn shoddy. Good thing you're going down to IT."

Imogene's face was red, and she could feel her eyes watering. "Mm-hm."

"Well, I suppose you'd like to see your office now, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe."

Douglas stood up, slightly hunched-over, and Imogene sniffled a bit and wiped her eyes. He opened the door and she followed him out, trying to hide her embarrassed face—well, her embarrassing face. She was suddenly extremely self-conscious about her appearance, especially her clothes.

What a terrible place this was. She'd only been there five minutes and she was already having second thoughts.

Douglas led her to a nice-looking elevator and gestured towards it. "There you go. Basement floor. Enjoy your first day."

"Thank you, Mr. Reynholm," she whispered, stepping inside.

The basement floor button was full of weird crusty stuff, and blinking like a street lamp in a horror film. When Imogene pressed it, she retained some grease on her finger.

The doors closed, and she resisted the urge to cry.