The Slighterman Channel

The woman in front of me is fidgeting in the chair. She runs her fingers through her disheveled hair and starts chewing on her nails. She could be around thirty but perching on the edge of the chair, hunched and wearing a constant frown she looks older.

“So, you applied for the call center job,” I say. “Can you tel me about your experience? There isn’t much in your CV.”

Actually, there is hardly anything in her CV.

She stares at me for a moment, than says, “I worked in similar position in my last job.”

“Which was?”

“Cannot tell.” She shakes her head. “I signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

She looks like a wind-up doll, mental springs stretched to the breaking point. She should be having a session with a shrink, not a job interview. I suspect that there are very interesting things in her backstory. I study her for a few moments and decide to put all my cards on the table. Let’s see how she reacts.

“I’ll be honest with you,” I say. “My guess is that you worked for The Organization. What you might not know is that it’s not the only one. The Big O likes to show itself as the all-powerful, all-knowing establishment, but believe me, it’s a bunch of dilettants.”

I see the shock on her face. How does he know, she thinks to herself. She even stops chewing on her nails.

I continue. “You’re not the first one who comes from the Big O, and let me tell you, we need to provide a lot of support and help to get them on their feet again. But it’s something we are willing to do. In exchange we require the same honesty. Are you willing to do that?”

She stares at me, and I can see in her eyes that her mind races. She has two choices: work for us and get help, and, not less important, a salary, or walk away and probably go insane alone. I put my friendly face on. Something tells me that there is still hope for her.

“OK,” she says finally.

I nod. I push the glass of water I brought with me when we started the interview in front of her. I offered it in the beginning, but she was too distracted and haven’t touched it. Now she sighs and takes a sip.

“OK, then, let me start.” I tell her about my organisation, how it is different from the big O, being a private company instead of a governmnet organisation, and how we do everything we can to keep our employees insane. Then I ask, “What happened to you?”

She hesitates, but then she tells me her story. She talks about the calls she had dealt with, how she helped people, or at least tried, and the constant fear she lived in. Typical Big O. Then she tells me about her final case which almost took her life, the evil spirit she had to deal with. By the time she finishes, I’m convinced that she’s the right person for us.

Then she searches her purse and comes up with a thumb drive. “I wrote a diary. Most probably just a jumble of words, it might not make sence. But maybe you’ll understand.”

I don’t take it from her just yet.

“If you give it to me, you breach the non-disclosure agreement.”

Her frustration shows on her face as she slams the drive on my desk and spats out: “To hell with non-disclosure! What did The Organisation give me? Fear and hopelessness. They even put my life in lethal danger. Fuck ’em!”

Fine for me. I take the thum drive. There is a hand-written label on it: Call us if you get posssessed.

“Very well,” I say. I offer my hand. “Welcome to The Company. My colleague will join you soon to do the administration.”

She accepts my hand and we shake. She leans back, and I think she looks less desperate than before the interview.