Arthur Cessman stood in the lobby of the Extech headquarters wearing the same grey suit he had worn everyday for the past twenty years. Well it wasn’t the exact same suit, he had multiple identical grey suits. Everyday he wore the same ensemble, grey jacket and trousers, a white shirt, black tie and grey trousers. He wore each jacket for a week before sending it for cleaning, the trousers would go in two or three days depending on the heat and each shirt only lasted a day. He had adhered to this schedule unerringly for just under twenty years. His greatest secret was his socks, which were always black save for the day of the week stitched into them in bright colours. Arthur Cessman’s secret had only been discovered once in twenty years, and he had that person fired. You could do things like that when you were head of recruitment and personnel. The battle for employment had become more and more cut throat in the years since Arthur Cessman was hired by Extech, but he had strived to stay ahead of the pack. Through a steady yet increasingly high dosage of nootropics and intense memory exercises Arthur Cessman could perfectly recall every employee at Extech, their position, qualifications and contributions to the company. With tens of thousands of applicants every year, the higher ups of Extech (the names of whom Arthur Cessman could remember with ease) found it invaluable to have a man who could instantly assess a potential employee against the hundreds they already had. But that wasn’t Arthur Cessman’s true ability. He had fostered his memory in a way that some people, mostly the unemployed, would call unnatural but he also possessed an innate strength that could not be taught.

Instinct.

In any business there will come a time where numbers and statistics will fail and decisions will have to be made with all the thought and reasoning of flipping a coin.

A guess, essentially.

Arthur Cessman had made many guesses when selecting employees for Extech. He had not been proven wrong in twenty years.

Those instincts were the reason he was standing in the lobby of the Extech headquarters holding a tablet. The tablet display showed a list of all the candidates due to arrive that day for assessment. Several names were already highlighted in red, indicating that they were not coming. As the candidates arrived in the lobby they would go to the receptionist and give their name, they would receive a visitor pass and be directed to the waiting room, which by now was filling up. This was the first part of the assessment day, entering the lobby. Arthur Cessman stood in the lobby and, based purely on the candidate’s appearance and the way they entered the building and spoke to the receptionist, would decide whether they were worth assessing further. He already knew what they all looked like, they had all provided headshots as part of the application, and he had memorised all of them with his usual methods.

Someone slouching. Out.

Someone dragging their feet. Out.

Someone stammering as they greet the receptionist. Out.

Someone pushes a pull door. Out.

One person noticed Arthur and smirked. Out with a vengeance.

A large group of candidates arrived at once, presumably they’d all been on the same train. It didn’t matter, Arthur Cessman only required a few seconds to make his decision for each individual.

A mountain of a man was in the lead, crossing the lobby with confident strides to arrive at the receptionist’s desk.

“Hugh Jaman. Here for the assessment day.” he said, simple and barely polite enough. Regardless he had potential, he passed. The next candidate was a young woman, who smiled at the receptionist. It was a good smile, she had evidently practised until she could achieve the optimal size and angle of a polite smile with ease.

“Hello, I’m Millicent Lute. I’m here for the assessment day.” She also passed. The candidate behind her was a lost cause however. His suit jacket was ill-fitting and he was a picture of tension, barely acknowledging the receptionist as she asked for his name.

“Norman Pearson.” He answered. Thoroughly unimpressed, Arthur went to tap the name Norman Pearson, to mark it red. It was in that instant that Norman Pearson froze, hand held out to accept his visitor pass, and span his head to face Arthur. Arthur also froze.

He knows.

Norman Pearson knew that he had already failed. The stare Arthur Cessman was now receiving was halfway between a glare and a plea for mercy.

You have good instincts Norman Pearson, maybe they are as good as mine. Arthur took hand away from the screen and Norman Pearson took his visitor pass and moved away from the receptionist’s desk, stealing another glance at Arthur Cessman.

I will allow you past, Norman Pearson, but you may find yourself wishing that you never made it any further than this.

Yes there were people here far more capable and far more desperate than Norman Pearson.

The candidates continued to file in, and at 0930 hours Arthur Cessman left the lobby after instructing the receptionist to turn away any candidates who had yet to arrive. He entered the waiting room to the crowd of candidates waiting with facial expressions that betrayed varying levels of confidence, arrogance and nerves. Some stood, some sat on chairs, and the odd few sat on the floor, Arthur marked them as red for good measure.

“Good morning. I am Arthur Cessman, I am in charge of recruitment and personnel at Extech. Please listen for your name.” Arthur Cessman read out all the names he had marked with red. As he read he occasionally looked up to observe a whole range of reactions. Some tensed when they heard their name, others visibly relaxed. A few betrayed nothing, while another few became more and more nervous as the list continued to be read without their name being heard. He reached the end and gave the room as last survey, then said “If I have read your name then please leave. You will not be assessed further.”

There was a short pause, a silence cacophony of reactions, the loudest of all coming from those marked in red. They reacted but they didn’t move.

“You heard me. Please leave.” Another pause. A couple eventually got up to leave, inspiring similar sluggish movements from the other rejects. Arthur wasn’t interested in them though. He did this every year and knew that not all of them would take this lying down.

“What the hell?” a candidate said. There it is. A large, muscular candidate stepped up towards Arthur. He wasn’t as large as the candidate Hugh Jaman but was still over a foot taller than Arthur Cessman. “We only just got here and you’re throwing us out? Are you serious?!”

“Indeed…” Arthur Cessman searched his memory for the name to this candidate, “Larry Boyd.”

“I’m not leaving.” Larry Boyd declared, “I came here for an assessment and I will not leave before I am assessed.”

“You have already been assessed, Mr Boyd. Assessed by me, and you have been found wanting.” Such evocative language wasn’t really necessary for calming Larry Boyd but that wasn’t Arthur Cessman’s intention. He needed to rile this candidate up, he had a point to make.

“Assessed? You just watched us enter a building! How the hell is that an assessment?!”

“Oh Mr Boyd,” Arthur put on his best smile. He knew full well it showed nothing but contempt. “There are hundreds of you here today for a chance to get this job. All of you are very capable, but only one of you will get hire. If you cannot even enter a building properly then what chance do you even have?”

That did the trick. Larry Boyd growled and swung a giant, meaty fist at Arthur. He was fast, far faster than anyone Arthur had to face when he got his first job many years ago. But no matter how fast Larry Boyd was Arthur Cessman already knew what he was going to do. Well “knew” may have been the wrong word for how he acted upon his instincts but however you would describe it, he could dodge Larry Boyd’s accelerating fist. So Arthur dodged, almost lazily, and, with the hand not holding the tablet, struck Larry Boyd across the throat. Larry Boyd collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

“Would anyone else like to question our selection criteria?” Arthur Cessman addressed the rest of the candidates. Those that had looked nervous before, now looked more so. Those that had looked confident, now looked excited. Some still just stared at him, their gaze betraying nothing.

Some of them still believe they could take me if they had to. Some of them probably weren’t wrong. The rest of the rejected candidates filed out, a couple of them helping Larry Boyd to his feet. Once they had left Arthur could begin.

“Let me first congratulate you on passing the first stage of the assessment day.” he addressed the crowd that was left. Still too large, I must be getting soft. “Please follow me through to the next room for the welcome speech.” With that he turned and exited the room, the swarm of candidates slowly following behind him. Once the welcome speech began he could write up his notes and observations on the reactions of each candidate to his exchange with Larry Boyd. He began composing them in his head, attaching each one to each candidate in turn.

Hugh Jaman: grinned. Looked excited. Potentially problematic but the sort that thrives in competition.

Millicent Lute: looked worried. Evidently people focussed. Could be a useful addition to any team if technical skill is sufficient.

Natalie Yamnson: stoic as expected. Already a favoured candidate.

Donald Rugg: curious but mostly unaffected. Seemingly adaptable to new situations and information.

Norman Pearson: no discernible reaction.

Arthur was rarely partial to candidates, that wasn’t his job and could even actively interfere with it, but he found himself liking Norman Pearson. Unfortunately, in Arthur Cessman’s completely impartial opinion, Norman Pearson had no chance of winning.

He wondered if Norman Pearson shared this view.