My First Cult

1. Interview

Everyone knows interviews are stressful. They're right up there with driving tests, divorces, moving house and ordering a coffee at Starbucks. (I don't know what a mocha vente latte grande is, and nor do I want it with cinnamon essence, moss, and twig shavings thanks very much.)

Still, it's rare to reach such giddy heights of stress that you end up talking about a potato website you once built in the midst of a depressive spiral.

"A potato website?" Rob echoed uncertainly. Was that fear I saw in his eyes?

"Yes, a potato website," I said, with great conviction, "there's over four hundred varieties."

"...Why?"

I was unsure of the question. Rob was unsure of my potato exploits.

We eyed each other suspiciously for a moment.

"Why wouldn't you want four hundred varieties of potato?" I demanded.

"I...no," Rob started, looking a little under threat. He shuffled in his seat nervously. Nobody told him The Defender of All Potatoes would lay siege to him today. "Why did you build a potato website?"

"Oh," I replied, with a relieved sigh. That was a much more sensible question. "A friend wanted it built, so I said I'd do it because I didn't have much else going on at the time." 

"Your friend wanted a potato website?"

"Absolutely."

A slight pause. Rob stared, mouth slightly agape. 

I began flicking through my folder. "I have screenshots here, if you want to see-"

"No, you're fine," Rob interrupted, "please don't."

"Sure, of course," I agreed, stuffing the papers aggressively back into the folder, sweat beading on my forehead. Everything was fine. Everything was going smoothly. "Nobody wants to see a Pink Fur Apple, anyway."

"I thought you said it was a potato website?"

"It is."

"Then why's there an apple on there?"

"It's a potato."

"What?"

"A Pink Fur Apple is a potato."

Rob looked like he'd accidentally entered another dimension. One he wanted nothing to do with. After a few rapid blinks in my direction and a short cough, he attempted to steer the conversation back to a reality he was more comfortable with. (That is, one that didn't include potatoes disguised as apples.)

"Look, potatoes aside, I think you'd be a great fit here. There's just one thing I need to make you aware of."

Here, Rob leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Palms spread across the tabletop. A dramatic pause.

Then, I received my fourth clue.

"It's a cult," Rob said, about the cult I was about to join, as he gestured through the glass wall to the religious book in reception, which was there because the business was owned by a cult.

Yet still, the puzzle pieces didn't fit together.

"What do you mean?" I asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

"It's a cult," Rob clarified, "about half the people who work here are members."

"Members of what?"

"The cult."

"Are you telling me," I said, in deadly seriousness, "this place is a cult?"

"It's a cult," Rob confirmed.

"Shit."

"Quite."

Silence descended.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, as if it was counting down the seconds until I made the stupidest decision of my life.

"It's not like...a murdery cult is it?" I ventured. Naively, I'd assumed the interview wouldn't actually involve my untimely death. And yet here I was, probably about to be sacrificed.

"No, no, nothing like that," Rob said, holding back laughter, "it's much worse than that."

"Fuck-"

"I'm joking."

"Oh shit, sorry, I mean-"

"It's ok," Rob said, trying to calm my flustered cursing, "I know this is a lot to take in. I'll walk you through it slowly. Although, it's probably best to hear now that Members don't like swearing. Also no blasphemy."

I stared at Rob in hopeless abandon. "What else am I meant to say?"

He gave a chuckle. "I'm sure you'll be creative. But other than that, their beliefs won't impact on your work. You just need to come in, be brilliant at Marketing, and then go home at the end of the day. Which is at four in the afternoon, by the way. We start at seven am."

"Seven am?" I croaked. I didn't even know what that was.

Rob nodded pleasantly. "Still interested?"

No. I absolutely wasn't.

And yet, despite the early morning start, despite the clones, the clean cars and swearing ban,  I found the words "Of course! When do I start?" escaping my mouth.

Nobody, in the history of humankind, has so willingly signed up to join a cult when they actually intended to do the complete opposite.

With a creeping sense of dread and a beaming smile on my face, I leaned over the table to shake Rob's hand.

My fate was sealed.

-

Scrawls Notes

Thanks to everyone who's read/commented so far - I honestly didn't think anyone would read this trash fire and yet here we are! Much appreciated.