The Secret Society

Job Search

      "Name?" The lady behind the desk looked bored, scribbling things down on her paper.
      "Althea," I replied, impatient and yet nervous. Maybe the impatience stemmed off the nerves?
       "Age?"
       "20, but I'll be 21 in three days." She scribbled something down. I tried to lean over the plain wooden counter but she shot me a glare and I raised my brows, standing straight again.
       "Any special skills?"
       "Umm. I can shoot a gun, if that helps much?" She peered at me for a moment, wrote something down, then nodded.
         "Alright. You'll get a call in two to three business days, if there were any matches. If not, you won't get a call. Next!" I frowned and backed off.
      "They'd better call me back," I muttered. "Or I'm seriously gonna have trouble with rent this month." Living in a small town had seemed like a great idea after moving out of my parents' house. Until I realized how hard it was to get a job. Of course, it wasn't like I could move back home. Not after my parents-
     My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. I picked it up and looked both ways before crossing a small road.
       "This is Althea Tonera. How can I help you?"
        "Ah hello Althea!" The voice was definitely male. Seemed like maybe a middle aged man. I was instantly confused. "We just got your application." I blinked in shock, hesitating. "We'd like to meet you this afternoon to discuss your salary and duties."
      "I'm sorry, I don't think I quite understand," I replied slowly. "I was told I had two to three days...it's not even been two minutes?"
       "Our...company does things a bit different. If you're still interested in a well paying job, we can meet up at noon."
       "Yes. Yes, I'm still interested, where can we meet?"

I found myself in the small local coffee shop an hour and a half later, after going to my apartment and changing into a pair of jeans and a shirt that said "be real, not perfect". Pretty corny, I realized as I walked into the store. But too late now. I sat at a table in the corner, ordering myself a coffee. I often went here once a day, in the morning. Their coffee was the greatest, and everyone in the town knew it. I sat back, my leg tapping the ground, and drinking my coffee, nerves crashing through me. A man walked up about ten minutes later.
      "Are you Althea?" He asked. I quickly shot to my feet.
       "Yes sir."
       He offered me a hand and I shook it. "It's nice to meet you. We have a bit of stuff we need to discuss, so go ahead and have a seat while I get myself a coffee." I nodded and sat back down. He walked back over with a coffee a few seconds later, and sat across from me. "I saw your ad," he said calmly.
       "Yes sir. I still don't quite understand. I was told it was going to be at least two days?"
      He smiled. "Like I disclosed over the phone, my business does our recruiting a bit differently. When people put down shooting in their specialities, we get it almost immediately. But that doesn't quite mean you'll get the job." I sat up straight, listening silently. "I have a few questions for you."
      "Alright."
      He nodded and pulled out a neatly folded paper from his pocket. "First. How long have you been shooting?"
      "About ten years...what kind of job is this?"
       He raised a brow disapprovingly at me. "I am the one asking questions here." I pursed my lips but nodded. "Next. How are you at leading and following?"
      "I've lead a couple groups in my life. And I believe I can follow instructions really well."
      He checked something off on his list with an expensive-looking pen. "And what about hand to hand combat?" He questioned and I hesitated. "Come on. I have places to be," he said calmly.
       "I've taken some self defense classes. Look I don't know-"
        "And do you have any attachment to certain places." I felt myself sober.
          "No. I don't."
         He looked over his paper, pity alight in his gaze for a moment. "And in terms of salary?"
       "Depends on the job I'm doing," I replied. "But the minimum of 50,000 a year."
       I saw the corner of his lip twitch upwards. "Alright." He folded the paper up neatly again. "We'll get back to you within 24 hours." He stood, taking his coffee. I frowned and opened my mouth to ask a question but he was already gone.

I muttered aloud to myself,

"What just happened???"