They reached a small meeting room, one of at least a dozen such rooms in a row. Why on Earth would they need so many meeting rooms?
The fat, nerdy man in the super thick glasses suddenly reappeared in front of Arwin before they could enter.
Arwin stumbled while trying to avoid hitting the sweaty individual.
This time, the nerd looked up at the man who was about to do the interviews. He fumed. “Excuse me. I think you have my stapler.”
The interviewer rolled his eyes. “No, Morton, I don’t have your stapler. Nobody has your stapler.” He was visibly holding the bright red stapler in his left hand. M-O-R-T-O-N was labeled on the top of it in bright white letters.
“B-b-b-but…” Morton helplessly pointed at the stapler.
The interviewer spoke with a bored voice. “Oh, and Morton, I had your desk moved.”
Morton stepped back, aghast. “Again?”
The interviewer nodded, not entirely suppressing a smile. “Yeah. Down to sub-basement three.”
“Th-three?”
The interviewer lazily nodded. “Yeah. We converted an old broom closet in the parkade into a nice, cozy office for you. Enjoy.” He waved Arwin and the other two interviewees into the room.
“B-b-but my stapler!” Morton cried out just before the door slammed in his face.
Arwin felt bad for the man. He couldn’t believe the guy had just been bullied like that. He’d heard of office politics, of course, but holy Hannibal Lector. It was worse than elementary school!
The interviewer waved the job applicants into chairs at one end of the meeting table. “All right. Let’s get started! Now, I want to tell you guys that you are very lucky to be here. This is such a great company, a great company, best company in the world. Working here, you have a bright future ahead of you. Because at this company, we do things better. We’re smarter, more innovative, more competitive. The people here, all those people you just walked by, they all have one thing in common: they understand what it takes to succeed in the modern world. They know how to work harder and be better than the competition. They know what it takes to win at life.”
This speech set off red flags to Arwin. He wasn’t sure that life should really be a competition. But he saw that the other two applicants were on the edge of their seats with excitement. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable at feeling so out of synch with everyone else.
The company man got into details. “Now, I’m sure the three of you have been through interviews before. Usually it’s a one-for-one process. We pick one of you for the position and you’re hired. The others lose out and go home empty handed. But that’s not how we do things at Fanri-Talbot. We are all about competition and proving ourselves. We believe that competition is at the heart of success and we encourage it in everything we do here. Sure, we’re a team, but within our team, and especially in sales, which is the division you’re applying for, we’re hungry sharks, always ready to devour the person next to us as we strive to help this company grow. Fanri-Talbot is made up of people who will do whatever it takes to win.” His charming, toothy smile resembled the underwater predator he apparently strove to be. “After all, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there and we’re in competition with a lot of other companies for the same customers. We have to train ourselves to be smarter, faster, and hungrier than they are.”
Both Yolanda and Jun grinned, eager.
The company man continued. “So, in the spirit of competition, you’re actually all going to be hired today.”
Arwin perked up. Really? He had the job? That was great!
“But, over the next three months, you’re going to battle it out with each other and some of the other newer members of our team. Your sales results will show us the true measure of who you are. Prove yourself as the hungriest and best, and you’ll become a permanent member of the winning team here at Fanri-Talbot.” The interviewer gave them another shark-like grin.
Arwin raised his hand. “I’m sorry, perhaps I misunderstood. Are you saying there’s a probationary period?”
“Yes, sort of!” the company man assured him with a plastic smile. “You’ll be working here full time. And after the first three months you could be a permanent member of the staff. And I assure you that our hiring package is amongst the most competitive in the industry. If you make your sales targets each week, you’ll be very happy indeed.”
Arwin, uncertain, glanced at the other interviewees, but they didn’t seem to share his misgivings. “Wait, so even though we’re working full time, we’re not actually being hired until three months from now? So, the first three months are an internship? Or a reduced salary or something? And at the end, we might be let go?”
The company man spread his hands. “Well, I suppose technically it is an internship to start. You won’t be paid anything for your first three months, but you really shouldn’t be focusing on that. You should be thinking about just how much money you’ll be making during your career here at Fanri-Talbot — after those first three months. Why, some of our sales staff have made over a hundred thousand dollars in their first year!”
The other two applicants’ faces lit up at the idea of so much money.
Arwin just nodded and tried to smile. So, this was not a job interview after all; it was a chance at a job, with a possible pay check four months from now, after working for free for three months. But he’d only get paid if he beat the others out of the job, doing whatever it took to win. Could he wait four months to get paid? He doubted the people collecting his rent and car payments would be that understanding or patient.
Arwin suppressed a frown. Three months of free labour? The VP of human resources here was probably laughing at the ingenious way they suckered people into giving away free labour. How were internships even legal?
One of the applicants, Jun, raised a hand. “So, if — I mean, when—”
The interviewer smiled and pointed at him. “I like that attitude.”
Glowing, Jun continued, “—when we’re hired on, what is our starting salary?”
“Your starting salary is twenty-five hundred per month,” the company man began.
Arwin felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Twenty-five hundred? That was less than he made now. How could he survive on that after paying taxes and all his new bills?
The man continued. “But don’t focus on that number! This is a sales position, so most of your income comes from commission. And don’t worry, it’s not like you’re here to do everything on your own. We’re here to help. We’ll train you in cold calling until you can sell snow to…um, people who live where there’s lots of snow. We’ll help you build the best leads. We’ll—“
Arwin interrupted the man, surprising both the interviewer and himself at the spontaneous interruption. “Excuse me, but, those people in the glass offices we passed on the way here. How much do they make?”
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