It’s late…say about 6 o’clock in the evening on a Wednesday. For whatever the reason, I have a late interview today. I was accommodating a schedule, or maybe they were accommodating mine. Regardless, the situation is what it is. At 6pm sharp, my interview was ready to see me in the interview room. He had completed his test, and was ready for us to sit down and have a conversation.
As I walked in, I immediately recognized him. The name hadn’t rung a bell seeing that I run though so many names in day, but I’m usually good with faces. This guy had applied here a few years ago for a completely different position. I don’t recall the circumstances, but whatever they were, he was not hired. As I looked at his resume, I could tell that it had been some time since he had actually held a job. At some point, I needed to ask him about his activities during that time, but not yet. We still had to get through the ice breaker, and some of the basic questions I needed to ask.
Finally, it was time to ask about his gap in employment. What had he been doing, and what did he attribute to not being able to find a job. As I asked, I thought about how cruel this bad economy had been to some people. It seemed like an obvious reason, but I wanted to see how he might rationalize this. He squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead before letting out a big sigh.
“People like you,” he said in a very matter of fact tone. Not much surprises me in an interview, but this did catch me off guard. He repeated his response, more forcefully this time. At the same time he reached into his bag, pulled out a gun, and fired two bullets into my chest. He let out one more sigh, put the gun away into his bag. He grabbed the resume he had so readily given to me before the interview, and placed that into his bag as well. The gunshots had sent me to the floor and before exiting the room, he lingered over me…just staring.
He then leaned over me, and grabbed a business card out of my pocket. He then stood up, turned out the light, and exited the room.
My blood poured onto the carpet. My lifeless body lay there as it began to pool around me…mixing with the dirt and grime that thousands of footsteps had imbedded into it. The cleaning crew had gone, and so I would not be found until the next morning. The receptionist who prepares the rooms in the morning, won’t be ready for this. She’s older, and the sight of my dead body, engulfed in my own pool of blood…eyes shut, and skin starting to fade to a brownish gray…may be just enough to kill her too.