Arxiu diari: 5 març 2015

OkCupid Self-summary

If she had been standing, she would have been looking at Mr. Black over her shoulder. But the interviewer HAD to listen to him, or at least she had to pretend that was listening to him. That vacancy was already covered days ago. At least the choice was made, but the management wisely thought that Mr. Black didn’t went to that job interview for being disrespected, for her tediousness. So she had to listen to him, after asking Mr. Black what could he bring to the company.

He was already answering, but he had a certain knowledge that all that was a charade. He smelled something wrong from the beginning. He noticed that she didn’t looked at Mr. Black’s eye when he turned in the office, and her handshake make feel him like he was holding a dead fish on his hand. But he wanted that job. Not that he needed it, as he was actually working somewhere else, even for a better salary, but he WANTED that job that could fulfill his life expectancies.

– What is your biggest motivation in life? – she said effortlessly.

Well, Mr. Black was a skilled poker player. He recognises when somebody is bluffing, when somebody is going serious and when somebody is not in that hand because is playing soft. This is, letting go some chips, making believe the rest of the players of its weak streak, and suddenly BANG, that soft-playing player reaches into the final pot without causing a lot of noise. So, Mr. Black noticed that the interviewer was playing soft, as she had gained something better before. But he was playing hard.

– My biggest motivation in life… Wow, that’s a good question!

Mr. Black saw on her look that she stopped feeling bored to feel some sympathy for him, like if she was thinking “poor idiot, he has not only the job but nothing interesting to say on that one”. That was the signal Mr. Black was waiting for the frontal attack.

– My biggest motivation in life is to invite you to dinner tonight to a fancy place, kiss you under the moonlight and fu^k your brains out like no one did before.

The interviewer didn’t know what to say, she just looked at him in a scared way. Mr. Black said:

– Ever.

She now looked more scared, staring at him with her blue open-plated eyes and closing even more her fists. Mr. Brown noticed even that a vein next to her collarbone swelled.

– Now that I have your attention, my purpose on this life is to have a job like the one that you are offering. One that could allow myself to travel around the world with all paid expenses for doing barely nothing.

She was still in shock. He followed up.

– But I see that I am not going to have this job. Although I said that because I know it would be good to have it. In fact my ultimate purpose in this life, now that you have asked, is to have a family and, yes, trip around the world with them on a ship. I think it would be better for my kids, when I have them, and my wife, when I got married, to life as far as possible from this corrupt system that teaches us to lie and cover our thoughts and willingnesses and make ourselves pusillanimous, mediocre and narrow-minded beings.

The interviewer was thunderstruck. Sat like an Egyptian statue, unable to speak and unable to stand up when Mr. Black did. He looked inside his jacked, picked up a card and gave it to her by grabbing her hand and placing the paper into her fingers. Mr. Black squat to look her again on her blue, big, beatiful eyes. He had a big smile on his face and then was when she noticed Mr. Black was holding her hand with his’.

– I meant about the taking-you-out-tonight thing.

Mr. Black kissed her gently on her cheek and walked away.

I don’t know what happened that night, but on the next day she didn’t came back to the office. Nor the next one. Neither the next one.

Years passed on until the “Rural rage” was something on all the media: papers, tv, radios, internet… they were all talking on the union of several savage peoples from America, Africa and the Isles of the Southern Seas. You could see footage of a Melanesian warrior sharing cow blood with a Masaii, and a Tupamaro chewing tobacco with someone who decades ago was fighting in Al Qaeda of the Maghreb and now was an eldery, a venerable. And the leader of all them, who unleashed mayhem, destroyed synagogues and cathedrals, the friend of chaos and destruction whose hobby was to fill Chicago metro stations with lethal gas, and who called for suicide attackers in Stockholm was her. That girl who did that interview with Mr. Black. She was the chaos embodied.

And this self-summary has no sense, I understand.

F*cking refrigerator.