Silver / clay

⊱ 17 ⊰

Caleb stood still in the queue, his tired, second-hand suit and tattered tie making him stand out. The others were all a little younger than him, early 20's, dressed in power suits and long skirts, dressed in concentrated poses and nervous stares. Across the other side of the room a second group of identical clothes faced off against them, confined to their own queue, spaced out further to allow a gap now and then.

Strong, resonant voices competed for air, each with a plan that would see their team win.

"I'll go next," said a shaky throat.

"No," said a particularly loud mouth, "you have to pass me first, then we'll have the space for, what was...Xifung to jump ahead."

Off to the side, three older suits and older skirts made copious notes, their eyes flicking from paper to faces. Caleb imagined what they might document from the loud mouth: leadership by fiat? And, perhaps, something about the little pause to check Xifung's name, from a tag large enough, when remembering names is an inherent business asset.

"You need to get in front of me or they'll leap right over us."

"That's a mistake. Serious mistake."

"Why?"

"Why?" A laugh.

More notes, scribbled hastily.

Caleb noticed a quiet mouth, uncomfortable amongst the apes attempting to assert dominance in an evolutionary battle of the fittest. "You have an idea, don't you?" he hissed.

The lack of any shake of the head, the lack of a no, was enough of an answer.

"You have to speak up," said Caleb.

The closed mouth remained closed, fear wrecking weak eyes.

"They need to see you work as part of the team," continued Caleb, nodding to the trio of note-takers.

The mouth opened, slightly, fighting a miniature battle of its own, against the mind behind it, the most difficult battle of them all. "Umm," it said, quietly, eyes darting to the others in the queue, partly hoping for their attention, partly hoping for disregard. "Umm, we need to, to be spaced out evenly, starting at the top."

The raucous response eventually died down to understanding, to agreement, as they dutifully followed the plan.

The note-takers scribbled furiously, bestowing furtive glances on the not-so-closed mouth, and a smattering of chins rising toward the applicant with the tattered tie.

After the group exercises, Caleb had to wait around for the one-on-one interview. Part of him was guilty at this wasted opportunity to more fully serve Amala, but he knew it was for a greater good.

"What do you want most out of the graduate program?"

Caleb took a brief moment to formulate his response. "To gain the skills to be the best employee I can be."

The interviewer dropped his pen, rose a little in his seat. "Come on Caleb, you can relax. You don't have to give me the answer you think I want. I'm interested in what truly drives you."

Caleb had a clear answer for that, but not one he could share in this situation. "Money," he said, not technically lying.

"We all want that," said the interviewer, with a smile, "so what sets you apart? You showed good awareness and communication skills in the group exercise."

"Perhaps I related," said Caleb. "That's how I would have acted, myself, a few years ago."

"Ah yes, it's been..." He looked down at the form. "...six years since you graduated. I did want to ask what you've been up to in the interim."

This was the question Caleb feared the most. How could he explain his lack of drive, his gaunt resume? He knew the question would come, and spent a long time preparing for it, yet still didn't have a good answer.

The interviewer read the consternation on his face. "Look, I'll level with you," he said. "We get fresh graduates in every year, and every year they lack life experiences. The same people from the same backgrounds with the same resumes. The only way an organism can survive is by spreading, through all its decision-making arms, a polyculture, able to respond to whatever the world -- or government regulations -- throws at it. Diversity isn't just about skin colour, or gender, it's about perspectives, stories."

"If you want a story," said Caleb, "how about one involving a homeless person?"

The interviewer eagerly leant forward. "Tell me more."