harraser
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2001
- Messages
- 2,091
Authors Note:hi ladies and gents.. this is a story i gave up on about a month ago because i couldnt make it go where i wanted. well tonight i gave it another shot and have sort of managed to turn it into something.. i dont really like it and it needs a major overhaul, but its 2.30am and im tired so im going to bed. any advice or comments will be very much welcomed. thanks 
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He picked his glass up off the table. A comfortable motion. No waiting for permission. No hesitation at being in a strange environment like the one he was in. People were usually on
their guard, maybe even a little scared in these interviews. A job like this, a salary like this, was usually enough to get anyone desperately self concious and fearful of failure. But not this one. Everything about him looked of calm indifference... however this wasnt the indifference of someone who had given up, the almost suicidal "kill me now, i dare you" attitude of someone with nothing to lose; this was the apathy of confidence, of having nothing to fear because you are completely out of reach of all the plebes below.
"Havent you ever felt like you just want it all to end?? .....no. Dont say anything. You dont know what im talking about yet... I dont mean wanting the universe to collapse, and i dont mean wanting to be hit by a truck. I'm not that much of a drama queen. I just mean the drudgery, the boredom.... the now..."
He raised the glass to his face... to his lips... then, a look of disgust coming across his features upon smelling the bourbon inside, he placed it back on the glass table with a 'clink'.
A handsome man, if you liked the unshaven, uninterested in their
appearance type, even his looks spoke of almost complete disinterest. Old jeans, a good fit and cut, but clearly well worn, and an old faded t-shirt covered a slightly taller than average, maybe 6ft, well muscled body, a touch round in the stomach, but by no means fat. He was clean, and neat as well, but clearly not bothered with his looks anything beyond that. Not your usual applicant to a high stakes job interview.
Taking the other man's silence as a cue to continue... "Havent you ever felt stuck? Like youre just waiting for something and theres nothing you can do to make it come sooner. The impatience of knowing that theres something you want soo badly, and you could have it too, one day, but not today, and not any day soon. And theres always that niggling thought in the
back of your mind that keeps reminding you how much things can change in a year or two. The thought that just wont shut up about how differently you felt about the world, people, life in general, just one little year ago. The regret you feel now at having lost what you found so important just that short time past, and the worst thing of all, the implications that holds for how youre probably going to feel about the things you want so badly right now by the time you could maybe have them..."
The interviewers expression was a mess of confusion. This mans words were such a contradiction to everything his body language broadcast... words of impatience, disquiet...
words of emotion.
words of caring.
"Havent you ever just been sick of the present? Sitting around with nothing to occupy you but the day to day crap that you know in your soul is just something you do to keep your mind off how slowly the time drags, distract you from the unavoidable fact that no matter what you do, youre going nowhere... Like these interviews, sitting here day after day deciding if people are good enough to make even more money for a man youre probably never going to meet, a man who more than likely alreaddy has more money than you will ever see in your lifetime. As you sit here feeling your life dribbleing away, does this job make you
happy? Or are you just doing it because you need the money? Because you want something but you cant afford it yet. The ever present carrot on a string dangled in front of the donkeys nose..."
His mind racing with confusion.. how could things get out of his hands like this? the interviewer stammers an answer. "I.. ahhh.. I cant say ive ever really thought about it... Sir, I think we'll leave the questions there for today. Thank you for your...."
The man just chuckled, ignoring the interviewers discomfort, and went on..
"Have you never just wanted it to be the future? Wanted the future to be here now? To have all the preparation done with and to be right at the begining of what you really want to do, what youve been aiming at all along. Not stuck in the preliminary rounds, but straight into the finals. The fun and excitement. Without the stupid little worries over if things will change, or if youll fuck it all up.. thoughts like that are really the only things that will make you fuck it up, and you know this, but it doesnt make the worries go away.. Youve really never thought of these things??"
Screwing up his face, he chuged down the glass of bourbon, grunting, maybe for the taste, or maybe for his drinking something he knew he didnt want... honest enough to see his own weakness, but still without the will power to stop it. Simply far too human, too lazy, to ever put in the effort for an all to possibly beneficial, but nonetheless delayed, change. Immediate gratification has always been the name of the game for the human race. There is no waiting, no matter how large the rewards seem to be. Patience, it seems, is a virtue we as a race have not been blessed with.
Standing up, in a tone that rang with a familiar struggle, the man said "Well count yourself lucky... these are the sort of thoughts that keep a man awake at night, that turn a man to strong drink, or easy women, or any other form of escape that tickles your fancy.. theyre all the same in the end. Just a different circle to dance in. Its been nice talking to you.." and without so much as a backwards look he strode from the room, face set in a facade of thunderous thoughts.
The interviewer colapsed back into his chair. His mind was spinning with all the thoughts the man had expressed. How could he have never seen them before? Had he really been so blinded by his life? Getting up, he moved over to the cabinet at the back of the room and picked up the bottle the mans little appreciated bourbon had come from, poured a drink, and sat back down, sipping it. It really was a good blend, what had the mans problem been? Maybe he just didnt like bourbon...
Pressing the button on his intercom he said "Ms Harfor, please send the rest of the applicants away, i wont be taking any more interviews today" and with a release and a beep it was done, the long line of attractive young executive types, all slick hair and tailored suits, were gone. The day was his to ponder away thoughts of a paradoxical man, and an expensive bottle of bourbon...
---------
He picked his glass up off the table. A comfortable motion. No waiting for permission. No hesitation at being in a strange environment like the one he was in. People were usually on
their guard, maybe even a little scared in these interviews. A job like this, a salary like this, was usually enough to get anyone desperately self concious and fearful of failure. But not this one. Everything about him looked of calm indifference... however this wasnt the indifference of someone who had given up, the almost suicidal "kill me now, i dare you" attitude of someone with nothing to lose; this was the apathy of confidence, of having nothing to fear because you are completely out of reach of all the plebes below.
"Havent you ever felt like you just want it all to end?? .....no. Dont say anything. You dont know what im talking about yet... I dont mean wanting the universe to collapse, and i dont mean wanting to be hit by a truck. I'm not that much of a drama queen. I just mean the drudgery, the boredom.... the now..."
He raised the glass to his face... to his lips... then, a look of disgust coming across his features upon smelling the bourbon inside, he placed it back on the glass table with a 'clink'.
A handsome man, if you liked the unshaven, uninterested in their
appearance type, even his looks spoke of almost complete disinterest. Old jeans, a good fit and cut, but clearly well worn, and an old faded t-shirt covered a slightly taller than average, maybe 6ft, well muscled body, a touch round in the stomach, but by no means fat. He was clean, and neat as well, but clearly not bothered with his looks anything beyond that. Not your usual applicant to a high stakes job interview.
Taking the other man's silence as a cue to continue... "Havent you ever felt stuck? Like youre just waiting for something and theres nothing you can do to make it come sooner. The impatience of knowing that theres something you want soo badly, and you could have it too, one day, but not today, and not any day soon. And theres always that niggling thought in the
back of your mind that keeps reminding you how much things can change in a year or two. The thought that just wont shut up about how differently you felt about the world, people, life in general, just one little year ago. The regret you feel now at having lost what you found so important just that short time past, and the worst thing of all, the implications that holds for how youre probably going to feel about the things you want so badly right now by the time you could maybe have them..."
The interviewers expression was a mess of confusion. This mans words were such a contradiction to everything his body language broadcast... words of impatience, disquiet...
words of emotion.
words of caring.
"Havent you ever just been sick of the present? Sitting around with nothing to occupy you but the day to day crap that you know in your soul is just something you do to keep your mind off how slowly the time drags, distract you from the unavoidable fact that no matter what you do, youre going nowhere... Like these interviews, sitting here day after day deciding if people are good enough to make even more money for a man youre probably never going to meet, a man who more than likely alreaddy has more money than you will ever see in your lifetime. As you sit here feeling your life dribbleing away, does this job make you
happy? Or are you just doing it because you need the money? Because you want something but you cant afford it yet. The ever present carrot on a string dangled in front of the donkeys nose..."
His mind racing with confusion.. how could things get out of his hands like this? the interviewer stammers an answer. "I.. ahhh.. I cant say ive ever really thought about it... Sir, I think we'll leave the questions there for today. Thank you for your...."
The man just chuckled, ignoring the interviewers discomfort, and went on..
"Have you never just wanted it to be the future? Wanted the future to be here now? To have all the preparation done with and to be right at the begining of what you really want to do, what youve been aiming at all along. Not stuck in the preliminary rounds, but straight into the finals. The fun and excitement. Without the stupid little worries over if things will change, or if youll fuck it all up.. thoughts like that are really the only things that will make you fuck it up, and you know this, but it doesnt make the worries go away.. Youve really never thought of these things??"
Screwing up his face, he chuged down the glass of bourbon, grunting, maybe for the taste, or maybe for his drinking something he knew he didnt want... honest enough to see his own weakness, but still without the will power to stop it. Simply far too human, too lazy, to ever put in the effort for an all to possibly beneficial, but nonetheless delayed, change. Immediate gratification has always been the name of the game for the human race. There is no waiting, no matter how large the rewards seem to be. Patience, it seems, is a virtue we as a race have not been blessed with.
Standing up, in a tone that rang with a familiar struggle, the man said "Well count yourself lucky... these are the sort of thoughts that keep a man awake at night, that turn a man to strong drink, or easy women, or any other form of escape that tickles your fancy.. theyre all the same in the end. Just a different circle to dance in. Its been nice talking to you.." and without so much as a backwards look he strode from the room, face set in a facade of thunderous thoughts.
The interviewer colapsed back into his chair. His mind was spinning with all the thoughts the man had expressed. How could he have never seen them before? Had he really been so blinded by his life? Getting up, he moved over to the cabinet at the back of the room and picked up the bottle the mans little appreciated bourbon had come from, poured a drink, and sat back down, sipping it. It really was a good blend, what had the mans problem been? Maybe he just didnt like bourbon...
Pressing the button on his intercom he said "Ms Harfor, please send the rest of the applicants away, i wont be taking any more interviews today" and with a release and a beep it was done, the long line of attractive young executive types, all slick hair and tailored suits, were gone. The day was his to ponder away thoughts of a paradoxical man, and an expensive bottle of bourbon...
). 
