UNEMPLOYED
*Possible chapter in an unfinished story ideas.
“I can’t hire you in good conscience. You’re overqualified.”
The tall, young black man gave a weak attempt at a smile. It was polite. A kindness. And yet he found the younger man’s effort irritating. He wasn’t really even sure why. He didn’t want the job. He didn’t even want to take the interview. Under normal circumstances, he’d have worn a button-up shirt and a tie. Yes, it was, at best, an entry-level position, but it was a personal belief that you should show respect to every job if you want to be respected.
And yet…
Try as he might, he couldn’t be bothered to give a flying fuck. The most he could muster up was a grey polo, a clean-looking pair of brown slacks and a well-worn pair of black Addidas.
“No, I get it. Believe me.” he said. But mostly, he was trying to discreetly rub his left ass cheek into the seat to yank the polyester blend boxers that had ridden up his ass over the course of the interview.
“Man, I would love to help you, but you seem too competent to be sitting in my warehouse making eighteen an hour.” The young man gesticulated, wildly, waving around at the business visible through the windows of the teal colored office. It wasn’t the nicest office, but it was a manager’s position. And he was… what? Thirty-two maybe? Fuck, maybe even less.
At least fifteen years his junior. Good for him, he thought. But it was insincere. Resentment was pumping in his blood. The whole fucking thing was pointless.
“Fuck.”
The manager blinked. “What?”
His head shook, broken. “I’m sorry. Look, let’s just be honest. You’re looking for someone who’s going to be here until the fast food burgers which are the only thing he can afford to eat cause renal failure and the next guy can come in and sweep up the corpse. But when you look into my eyes, you know you’re staying at the wrong ship from the island of misfit toys.”
The manager blinked harder this time. “Wh… I don’t…” People who wear ties are used to polite lies from the people who they invite into their offices.
“So, again, thank you for giving me the interview, but let’s not waste anymore of your time or my soon-to-be-short life.”
As he stood, he used his right hand to yank his boxers out of his crack and reached his left hand out to shake.
The manager’s hand reached out instinctively, but in his confusion, he wasn’t sure if he was thanking the weird, old prick for coming in or thanking him for getting the fuck out of his office.
