The Job

Father didn’t want The Job. He posed in his blue suit across the desk from Mr. Major anyway, counting the ticks of the wall clock. Sweat itched across his scalp and beaded along his hairline. Mr. Major flipped a page in his hand and scowled at Father’s resume.

Father refrained from wiping his brow in the sweltering office. Was the temperature turned up for the interview? He dared a blink to release tension, then paled at the flicker in Mr. Major’s eyes. Had he seen? Did he know?

He tried to search the room for a distraction—anything to pass the time and ease the awkwardness—but not enough to miss if called upon. He settled for thoughts of Mother and Daughter that morning.

Mother insisted he wear blue to bring out his eyes and fretted over the pleats in his slacks. The Job might be just what they need to make ends meet. She wasn’t taking any chances of a failed interview. Daughter’s contribution, a pink and white beaded bracelet, peeked out from below his sleeve. She held his hand in her little fists wanting to take care of Daddy just like Mommy.

He should have removed it before entering the building, but between the stress of the moment and his love for Daughter, he couldn’t. Her sweet face floated before him. Her cute smile, despite her sunken cheeks, might even melt Mr. Major’s glacial heart. He risked a furtive attempt to tuck the unprofessional accessory out of sight.

Mr. Major cleared his throat and Father nearly fainted. Their eyes met as Mr. Major’s returned from the bracelet with a piercing stare. Father’s breath stopped as he choked back a cough in anxious waiting.

“A daughter?” Mr. Major nodded placidly toward Father’s wrist.

“Y-yes.” He could not bring himself to say any more under the imposing glare.

“Well, as for your qualification for The Job, I don’t think there are any questions. We are ready to take you into the fold, presuming you can stand to part with your family.”

Father stared back in a daze, lips slightly parted. “Excuse me?”

“The Job requires your residency here.” He motioned around at the office. “Of course all your expenses are covered through The Job. Your only responsibility is to work the tasks expected of you and the rest will naturally fall into place.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t quite understand. Are you saying I would live here, in the office, should I accept the job offer?” All the questions and doubts from speaking with Johnson, his neighbor and part-timer at the office, flooded back into mind.

“I believe it is now my turn to apologize, which I never do lightly, but are you even considering the outrageous possibility of declining The Job? If that were the case, and you were not fully committed before applying, we wouldn’t have interviewed in the first place.”

Taken aback, Father stuttered as he tried to hold on to the offer he felt quickly slipping away, but before he could make a coherent sentence, Mr. Major interrupted.

“Now I won’t have you waste any more of my time, which, yes, you have done quite a bit already, for I have much to do and many other candidates who would kill, really kill, to have the opportunity you disregard.”

In frustration, Father found his voice and tried to clear the air.

“Sir, I must stop you there— to avoid wasting anymore of your valuable time,” he added meekly seeing Mr. Major bristle at the interruption. “I have every intention of taking The Job.” Mr. Major’s face revealed no pleasure or disappointment, simply his inhuman lack of emotion. “I do have questions regarding the nature of The Job and the business relation between myself and The Company.”

The corner of Mr. Major’s mouth twitched toward a frown. But he must have restrained himself, for his words dripped with understanding to the point of obscenity.

“Oh, I absolutely understand. Far be it from me to misinterpret your confusion for malicious aloofness to the concerns of The Company. Now, in order to avoid any further miscommunication, let me be straight forward regarding your position among us and our guarantee for your satisfaction.

“At this time, with our relationship only just beginning, it would be inappropriate, perhaps even egregious, for me to speak in terms of any solid definition for The Job where I might unknowingly limit your possible upward mobility through my own inability to see your full potential, though I do pride myself on my role with The Company in assessing potential employees. You will find the transition up the ladder quite fluid following your excellent service in the areas we will employ you.

“As for your expenses and the matter which no doubt you and everyone are most concerned with in a situation such as this, you will find that everything will be taken care of without your having even to think on it. All your family’s needs and yours will be met by The Company to the fullest measure in good faith of your satisfactory employment.

“Now if you can just verbally confirm your acceptance, for paperwork can be so cumbersome and inefficient, I should be happy to direct you to your apartment from which you will live and work.”

Father smiled dumbly and fumbled with his words as Mr. Major quickly led him to the door with a wide hand on his back and the other reaching for the knob. Only just as the door opened did Father bring a quick halt to the flurry.

“I don’t wish to insult or confuse, but as a respectable husband and father I really must speak with my wife before I officially take The Job. I don’t know if you are a married man yourself, but I could not possibly make this decision without consulting her.”

Despite his best attempt at pleasantry and matching the interviewer’s style of speech, Mr. Major contorted his brow and inverted his toothy smile into a frightening, but comfortable, grimace.

“Now what are you playing at, Smith. I thought we had put all that nonsense about uncertainties and muddy talk behind us. Are you leading me to believe you don’t want The Job?”

“Heavens, no. I need The Job desperately.”

“Yes, yes. Everyone needs The Job. I could ask every last candidate waiting their turn for an interview and they could waste more and more of my time telling me they need The Job. Do you want The Job, man?”

“Well, not to be rude, sir, but of course.” His heart thumped violently. “I would not be here if I didn’t.” Damn the injustice of it all. No one wants The Job. Everyone says they do just to secure it. What an infernal game to play.

“Then are you not the man of your household?”

“I am indeed.”

“Then can you not make this decision on your own? You’re not some soft man unable to handle his affairs without a strong woman standing behind him, are you?”

Following the interviewer’s direction, Father grew heated, but being a level-headed gentleman he controlled his tongue nimbly.

“Behind every great man is an even greater woman. I would be a fool and a sorry excuse for a husband if I could not admit as much. Now I’m not saying I am unable to make this decision on my own, with the strictest confidence from my wife, but I will not be so bullheaded as to make decisions that could upset my family without serious consideration for their well-being.”

Mr. Major turned a shade of crimson to make anyone doubt their memory of the color red. Father felt so afraid in that moment he thought he might have said just the thing to lose The Job with no hope of a second chance. He tried to apologize before the interviewer blew up.

“Dammit man, do you have so little tact as to talk so ignorantly of the capabilities of The Company to provide for our employees? Has not a word of our discussion sunk into that thick head of yours? How could you suggest taking The Job would be at all upsetting to your family? We take the utmost pride in the benefits of The Job. I have half a mind to have security throw you out this instant.”

In a rush of apologies and teary eyes, Father pleaded for Mr. Major not to act rashly.

“Sir, I meant no disrespect or to show any lack of faith in The Company’s intentions to take the best care of my family and me. I used the term ‘upset’ in error and would like to clarify my meaning. I meant ‘upset’ only in the sense of change to the current operation of my familial unit. Nothing more. If you would be so benevolent and understanding as to give me tonight to explain my new post with my wife, I would be happy to return tomorrow for the start of The Job.”

Mr. Major brooded for a moment with the door slightly cracked, surprising Father with the empty hall. Either all the rooms were vacant, or the occupants were too preoccupied to eavesdrop on the shouts echoing down the hall.

“Well, I can overlook your lack of discretion, though I can’t say it won’t affect your compensation. Very well, take tonight to get your home affairs in order and report back to me tomorrow by business open. Should you be late by a second, we will rescind our invitation permanently. Good night, Smith.”

With his last word, the interviewer pushed Father out of the office and slammed the door. The shutters snapped shut, and Father knew it best to get home immediately.

At the dinner table Father sat eating a few mouthfuls of rice and beans as Mother questioned him over The Job, while Daughter played with her toy ponies on his knee. Upon concluding a long series of inquiries without satisfactory answers, Mother swept away the chipped bowl and tarnished spoon.

“Well, I expect tomorrow you can ride in with Johnson from next door, march straight to Mr. Major’s office to apologize and start The Job.” She wiped the dish and utensil with an old rag and placed it on top of the stained counter beside the cracked plate and mug missing its handle.

“But dear, have you no concern for my absence from home moving forward? They expect me to live full-time at the office and I have not a clue of my time off and what will be permitted.”

“Husband of mine, if you pass up The Job, so help me. . .”

“Daddy, Daddy. Dance with me.” Daughter interrupted with a tug on his fingers he could not resist. He stood with his daughter and danced as only toddlers can with no music, and for just a moment she banished all the cares and worries of the world from the room.

“Did my bracelet bring you luck?” She asked, pulling at the thing on his wrist. Before he could answer, Mother hurried in and grasped the girl by the shoulders.

“Daughter, it’s time for bed. Do you want your night-night kiss from Daddy?”

“I need my kissy.” Daughter rushed Father and gave a wet peck on his chin and received a kiss on her forehead with a cute squeal of joy. As Mother and Daughter entered the bedroom, the older added over her shoulder, “Call Johnson and arrange your ride tomorrow.”

“Full-time as a new hire, I must say I’m jealous of the benefits. God knows we need it, eh?” Johnson grinned jovially with his round face he somehow kept fat in poverty. Father conversed noncommittally and stared at the gray sky with his chin in his hand and his forehead against the window of the car.

“Things aren’t so good for my boy and his mom. Of course you know what it’s like.” Johnson gave a friendly nudge with his elbow, but then the dim light in his eyes faded. “Though I guess now, you won’t.”

Father grunted and felt the warmth evaporate out of the car. They arrived five minutes to eight.

“Smith, its good you’re here. I was just mentioning to management my greatest concern you would disappoint. How satisfactory for you to arrive in time to prove me wrong.” Mr. Major grabbed Father by the arm and quickly led him away from Johnson, without the simplest acknowledgement of the man.

“Here is your cell. Inside you will find your uniform and the schedule for housekeeping. We expect you to follow all instructions, both work related and lifestyle. Any errors on your part will be recorded and reviewed in regards to your compensation.”

The supervisor slung him into the room and shut the door between them before Father could ask for clarification. He had The Job. A quick glance at the bare room and he sighed. A bed, desk, computer monitor, and a miniscule bathroom filled the cell. Upon closer inspection, however, he took notice of the message slit in the wall above the desk, a signal board with a red and yellow bulb, and a camera in the corner with a steady red light.

Before he could think over the situation he had unknowingly wandered into, a message came in. He opened the letter and read as he stripped out of his own suit and dressed in the featureless gray jumper of the company.

Employee,

Acquaint yourself with your cell and heed the following warning. Your execution of The Job is of the utmost importance and will be the sole metric by which we will judge you. We expect you to learn The Job quickly and without assistance, this letter being the only exception.

When the signal board lights red, you will work. Any misuse of company time or dishonest behavior or practice may result in your immediate discipline or termination. When the signal board lights yellow, you may take a break for the duration of the yellow. When the signal board is not lit, you are free to spend the time as you wish within professional modesty. It should be noted our top employees strive to perform above expectations, and those that do find their upward mobility greatly increased. Those who choose to disregard this advice may find themselves passed over.

Father flipped the paper over in search of the rest of the notice, but settled for a second reading, which he completed just before the signal lit red. Immediately another letter of instructions came through and for the first few hours he scrambled to keep up with the sporadic requests of filing and sorting and pressing meaningless buttons on the computer.

When the signal first blinked yellow, Father pushed back from the desk with a great sigh and stood to stretch. He eyed the glowing red eye of the camera and, feeling self-conscious, forced a terse smile and nod to the camera and sat back to work, ignoring the signal board when it turned red again just a moment later.

Several hours later, the signal board turned off unnoticed while Father muddled through the absurd workload. His sandwich from lunch, timely provided through the message slit, sat untouched beneath several scattered papers. He ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time and sighed wearily as he observed the dead light of the signal board an hour after it went out, which was the only means for telling time.

He scraped the papers together in haste and knocked the sandwich to the floor. The plastic plate rolled to the far wall, and the wrapping dropped its contents everywhere. Father wiped his hand over his face, pulling his cheeks below his jaw. He looked at the disassembled sandwich on the ground, which stabbed his neglected belly with pain.

He cleaned the mess and hesitated with the edibles piled in his hands. He would not think twice of eating all of it under the circumstances at home, but here? He didn’t dare behave so shamelessly, The Company always watching. With great difficulty he deposited the wasted lunch gently in the base of the trash can under his desk.

Father flopped onto his bed, exhausted, and lay an arm over his eyes. Was this what he wanted? No. Was this what his family needed? Maybe. If Mr. Major was to be believed, The Company would provide everything they needed, much of which he otherwise could not secure. What exactly they would get no one said, though Johnson implied incomparable benefits above every other employer in the city.

The message slit rattled, and another sandwich slid through. Father eyed the plate as his stomach growled. He stood to retrieve it, but the all-seeing eye of the camera glowed in the far corner. Stilted, Father ate his sandwich, suppressing a gag on the tasteless sawdust, and turned out the light. Throughout the night, The Company observed him.

Several days passed with no direct human interaction, for The Company did not permit him to leave his cell unless they granted a formal request or if directed by management. Only at the end of the fifth day, after sitting in consternation for half an hour calculating his days, did Father realize he had worked through his Saturday. The signal board lit on schedule just like every day prior, and in his exhaustion and the whirlwind of work, he gave it no thought.

He sat on the end of his bed, his stack of work papers towering over the room beside him with his twentieth—at least it seemed that way— sandwich of stale bread and salted meat paste half eaten in his hand. He brooded over his lost day off for a moment until he realized they didn’t define his workdays and days off. Beyond his incredulity at a wasted Saturday, he fumed at the day without his family.

He would have mucked things up badly by bursting out of his cell and demanding an explanation from Mr. Major without permission, but luckily they summoned him to the devil’s office by letter a minute later.

In the hot seat for the second time that week, Father resumed his posture and strained to keep a pleasant, unrevealing expression of professional confidence. His face paled and flamed along with his tumultuous emotions and stuck on pale when Mr. Major slapped a stack of papers on the desk.

“I must say I’m rather disappointed in you, Smith. I hadn’t expected such a poor performance.” Father balled his fists for a second. Seeing a flash of pleasure perhaps flit across Mr. Major’s face, he quickly relaxed and spoke in as level a voice as he could manage.

“I. . . apologize, sir.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “It has taken a moment to learn the ropes. I promise to improve quickly.”

“Well, let’s hope so, or else we might have to say goodbye to our business arrangement. And your family has been doing so well with their new care.”

“My family?” Father started, caught by surprise at their mention. “In fact, I actually needed to speak with you about seeing them. But first, what do you mean by their doing well?”

“Well, of course I mean how well they are doing under The Company’s care. I’d wager to say they have never lived so well, through no fault of your own I might add.” Mr. Major bore a rare smile which came across more like a pained grimace, no doubt due to the effort of forcing a scowl-frozen face to show the slightest human emotion.

“That is so pleasing to hear. I was quite worried—excuse me—I had been thinking about how my wife faired without my help at home. She insisted on my need to be here, but a good husband never forgets the hard work of his wife and her need for him at home.”

“Well, you should be glad to hear she is loving her newfound free time, thanks to the live-in. And your daughter is absolutely fond of her as well. We made sure to get the perfect fit for your family.”

Father paused for a moment as he pieced together what he heard.

“My wife has a live-in now? How could she afford that? I don’t even know what’s being sent home after this week’s work.”

“Are you daft, man? Haven’t I been taking ownership, on behalf of The Company, for her care through the benefits of The Job? I assure you, there is nothing to wonder at. The live-in is handling all your household needs as part of your benefits which has left your wife plenty of time to attend her fitness and craft classes.”

“My wife is out with the other wives, and a live-in is raising our daughter?” Father searched with unfocused eyes in front of himself as he wrestled with this revelation. “I’m not displeased my wife can be out, but we had never thought of letting anyone else raise our daughter.” Father jumped to his feet and grew hot hearing his family changing, not only without him, but in opposition to the wishes he and Mother had agreed on.

With a placating hand, Mr. Major instructed Father to sit. What an absurd influence The Company had over his family. The liberties they took without his acknowledgement.

“I am not a married man, nor a father, but I can assure you your family is better off now than ever before. Now if we could get back to the reason you are here, for I think I have indulged your proclivity for wasting my time long enough, which I will stop by making the end of our meeting concise. We expect marked improvement in your performance over the next month or we will be meeting again in regards to disciplinary action of which termination is not off the table. Good day.”

And with the same unstoppable force of his last dismissal, he threw Father from the room with a definitive slam.

Father met the lowest benchmark on schedule and thus maintained The Job. He lost a concerning amount of weight under the stress of the ordeal, but who could blame him. The food was only suitable for the landfill.

He quickly lost track of the days since they expected him to work a seven-day week. At least he assumed it must be a seven-day week, since he never had a day off, nor could he see a window to the outside from his cell or the hall. While he had control over the lights in his cell, the hall lights never went out.

Months of numbing work later, Father finally realized he got no weekends, no holidays, no occasion to leave the office unless under termination, and no visitors without exception. He grew depressed and utterly miserable, thinking he would never see Mother or Daughter again. There was always retirement.

As he sat before Mr. Major again, he struggled to keep his expression mild and his eyes warm. Just beneath the surface, his emaciated soul shivered. If he dropped the mask, surely there would be questions and doubts he could not handle in addition to the inner turmoil. The last thing he wanted, after all his efforts, would be for The Company to lose faith in him.

“You’ve nearly reached a year at The Job and with less than a month before your anniversary here, I wanted to confirm the renewal of your contract. Just as before, we don’t need to worry ourselves with paperwork in this meeting. That can be arranged with the appropriate parties later. All I need is your verbal verification, and you can get right back to work.”

“Sir,” Father started timidly, “is there any chance I could see my family? The scarce letters of only a few lines have sustained me, but I crave to see my daughter and wife. I believe my daughter’s birthday is coming up soon and I have never missed one before.” Father trembled, using every ounce of discipline to keep from breaking apart.

“Oh, well, if you don’t remember exactly when her birthday is, I can’t imagine it is that important to you.” Mr. Major bared his teeth without true humor. “Of course I wouldn’t know since I myself don’t have the burden of a family, but I must tell you she had a wonderful party last week with her friends from the school.”

Father’s eyes stung, and his heart threatened to stop. “I see.” He bit his lip. “What school is this then?”

“Well, she has been at the boarding school up the mountains from here where all the brightest young women of tomorrow attend and form into our future leaders under the most qualified and highly regarded female instructors. It is an all-girls school.”

Father winced, at once knowing the diabolical institution in reference. “Did my wife agree to have her sent away?” He gritted his teeth, his cold sadness flaming into a mighty rage. “From what we had heard before my time here, they did not impress us with their beliefs and priorities.”

“Well, you must excuse your youth. There is no finer establishment for a young girl in the country. She could be president one day or CEO of a Fortune 500 company, or lead a social revolution as many of the girls are already involved in.”

“As for your wife, she has advanced into the highest social circles, wining and dining with executive’s wives and rubbing shoulders with acclaimed persons in every field that matters.”

Father saw an image of his new family flit across his mind, and he did not recognize them. He wondered whether they needed him in their lives or if they missed him at all. Did they just need The Job? These dark thoughts doused the anger bubbling inside as Mr. Major continued his monologue meeting.

“So in conclusion, by spoken and unspoken agreement, on the morning of your anniversary, at the start of your shift, you will officially commit to your next four years. The probationary year will be complete, not without it’s concerning errors, but satisfactorily enough for you to continue with us.”

Father stifled a grimace. The memory of the countless micro aggressions The Company had brought before him embittered him. On more than one occasion they blamed him for the misfiling of documents because they lost the key pages for him to sort, or occasions when he had stretched with a sigh in the middle of his work shift, and they had thought he had lost the motivation to keep up with the demands of The Job.

Back in his room, Father examined his cell of almost a year. He quickly learned to keep the room immaculate, folding every crease of the bed after waking and not a paper or pen out of place when he concluded for the night. Despite his voluntary work beyond his scheduled shift, never taking his breaks, starting well before the signal came, and staying long after the signal board went out, he felt they boiled all his efforts down to his minor mistakes. Mistakes made unavoidable by his exhausting schedule.

On the night of his anniversary, Father sat at the desk with a pen and a small note in the dark. He knew if someone looked closely, they would see his form not in bed, but just beside it. He banked his hopes in the dark. No one would take notice.

He stared at his emaciated face dimly reflected on the monitor, his eyes sunken half way to the back of his skull, the bags under his eyes fell over his cheek bones, his shallow cheeks outlined his teeth within, and the slight shadow of facial hair he routinely shaved each morning.

He hated The Job. He hated The Company. He hated the world which demanded such a life.

He didn’t want more of what The Job provided, he wanted what The Job could not. He didn’t want or even need as much as The Company promised, just the minimum of what his family needed.

Mother might want more, might demand more now that she had a taste of the upper limits, but Daughter needn’t be corrupted and sacrificed in the process. There was more to life than The Job could secure.

Father didn’t want black and white photos of his life. He wanted to live and breathe in the vibrant colors and hues of life.

But if he left The Job, would the colors drain from the life of his family? Could he risk their happiness for just the slimmest chance of his own? Would he throw away everything his family had, just because of his own misery? How could he say he loved them if he couldn’t continue to sacrifice himself for them?

If he left, would the family suffer? Would they even recognize him now? Would they hate him for taking away their new luxuries or for abandoning them for a year?

Father wept with his face in his hands. Tears of blood seeped between his fingers and ran over his beaded bracelet. Would she still love him after everything?

In the morning Mr. Major checked Father’s room through the open door. He found it as it should be, impeccable, with no hint of waste, except for a scrap of paper on the desk. He glanced at the tear-stained note and dropped it into the trash can as he entered his office for his first interview.

“Well, Johnson, you may be in luck. A full-time position just opened.”