Definitely not John McClain

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     I haven't been on an interview in 25 years and so I have no idea how this one went.  You see I've been a plumbing inspector for the City of Detroit for 25 years and now they want to down size, plus apparently my doctor thinks it would be a good time to find a less stressful job, so you see its a win win situation.  I get my pension, I don't have a heart attack, and I still get to work.  This interview was for a building maintenance supervisor at a high rise in downtown Detroit.  Supervisor means all the credit without getting my hands to dirty, well, maybe a paper cut or two.  Walking out of the building the sunshine hit me full force.  Feeling around my jacket blindly for my sunglasses I remembered that I had left them in the minivan, great.  Blinded and bewildered from my "professional interrogation" it was kind of dizzying when behind me I heard a "buzz, click".   Did they just lock the door?  

     Police sirens started to fill the air when a SUV came speeding towards me and slammed onto the curb.  The doors slide open and several men in black military uniform rush out towards the building I'm standing in front of, and they're holding machine guns.  Standing in the door way I froze until a couple of them turn and fire at the police cars pouring onto the street.  Pow pow pow pow...holy shit!  Turning back towards the building I see through the glass door security ushering people to the back of the lobby, I crouch down into the corner of the building entrance and get as small as I can.  Ping, crack, crack, ping!  The cops are shooting back?!  I'm right fucking here dudes!  Time to get the hell out of this death trap.  I stand half way up when an explosion of dust and concrete powders my face.  Great, blinded again.  Then I got a spray of wet against the side of my neck, I wipe it away and notice its red, blood red.  Oh my God I've been shot and I must be in shock because I didn't even feel it.  As I'm rubbing my neck and chest feeling for a painful spot that's not there I'm pushed up against the wall by one of the gunmen and we both fall to the ground.  I look at him and he's bleeding profusely from his neck; that's his blood on me not mine.

     The gunman is breathing heavy and pointing his machine gun at me, "Get me in that building or your dead."  What?  Is he talking to me?  Did I hear him right?  "Open the fucking door and get me in there now!"  Shit!  I grab for the handle and pull, LOCKED.  "It's locked!"  Then one of the other gunmen aims at the glass door and fires.  Shattered glass pieces rain all around me.  The wounded gunman pushes up against the wall and looks at me, "Lets go, now!"  I grab at his jacket, we stand up and I pull him as hard as I can.  As we're stumbling through the doorway I trip on the door jam and we fall inside the building, him landing on top of me.

 Even in my fearful state I think to myself, "This is awkward."  As I'm laying there petrified and wondering what to do? Next one of the gunman pulls the wounded man off of me.  Now what do I do? Run out the door and hope not to get shot by good or bad guys, or do I play possum and hope they don't notice me.  I look around and notice to my left some sort of information desk or concierge desk.  Looks good to me; so I crawl as fast as I can over to it and crawl behind it, again making myself as small as possible.  I didn't notice before but the building is all windows and I could see directly behind me outside the west side of the building.  Maybe the police could see that I'm an innocent bystander.  Then I looked up and saw the security camera above me.  Great, I bet the police will use those to plan my rescue.  "You two check the lobby and see if that lock down gate is secure.  You, knock out those god damn security cameras!"  Well there goes my only contact with the outside world.  Then I heard footsteps walking heavily towards me.  I tried to tuck myself even tighter into the desk when I heard a gunshot then a pop.  A spray of fine glass particles hits me, again with the glass, must have been the security camera.  Looking out the window I notice a small hole through the glass and to my right a pool of blood forming next to the desk.

     Holy shit!  What the fu...then it hit me, a sniper!  Okay, this is starting to become a Bruce Willis scenario, only I'm about the farthest thing from a Die Hard hero there is.  The gunmen started yelling and arguing amongst each other.  This thing could go a couple of ways.  There's the hostage scenario where they find me and I get negotiated for a million dollars and a helicopter.  Then there is the storm the building scenario where smoke bombs, flash grenades, and automatic rifle fire spray destruction and chaos throughout the lobby and I'm an acceptable loss.  Or they could blame me for the dead guy laying in a pool of his own blood next to me and take me out.  All of these unacceptable in my mind.  Then there is the scenario where I get the fuck out of there as fast and sneakily as I can.  I chose the latter.

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