What does that have to do with the job?
INTERVIEWER 2
Well, since you ask…one theory of job satisfaction states that people are happiest and most productive when they’re doing something that links back to childhood aptitudes and inclinations. When did you first realize you wanted to be a financial controller?
HUMBLE
When did you first realize this is what you wanted to do? Insulting people, playing head games with them. Humiliating them. Raking them over the coals.
INTERVIEWER 2
Is that what you feel is being done to you? You’re being raked over coals?
HUMBLE
You heard what I said.
INTERVIEWER 2
What was your favorite chocolate bar as a kid? I don’t seem to have that information.
HUMBLE
3 Musketeers.
INTERVIEWER 2
Interesting. I’d had you pegged for Snickers. Breakfast cereal?
HUMBLE
Post Toasties.
INTERVIEWER 2
You see? It’s all coming back. Did you have a dog?
HUMBLE
A labradoodle named Slider. It ran away.
INTERVIEWER 2
And?
HUMBLE
You want to know about my childhood? I got beaten up in school. Then I beat up another kid and never got beaten up again. My father was a dentist. He hated his job but he did it well. He didn’t drink or smoke. He’d wanted to be a doctor but his grades weren’t good enough. He liked doctor shows like Marcus Welby, MD. He liked to wax his car. Our first car was a Plymouth. Then he bought a Buick Electra. We lived in a nice house.
INTERVIEWER 2
What kind of house?
HUMBLE
A nice house.
INTERVIEWER 2
Describe it.
HUMBLE
A rose-colored house on Mock Orange Lane. Split level. I had a friend named Skip who could talk like Donald Duck. My sister was overweight. Until she became anorexic. She lives in Cincinnati now and is unhappily married—to a dentist. They live in a very nice house. I used to ride my bike down by the warehouses. Then one day an old man came after me. I didn’t ride down there any more. I was always a solid B student, but I did well in math. I became an accountant because I wanted to live in a nice house. I started off in private practice, and then got headhunted by my major client. I left that job because I thought I could make more money on my own, but it’s hard being in business for yourself these days. How’s that for honesty?
INTERVIEWER 2
Astounding.
HUMBLE
You making fun of me again? I haven’t had an interesting life. You don’t want someone interesting as financial controller.
INTERVIEWER 2
What about your mother?
HUMBLE
What about her? She died of Hodgkins when I was sixteen.
INTERVIEWER 2
You don’t think that’s interesting?
HUMBLE
I think it’s sad.
INTERVIEWER 2
She died when you were sixteen? Or when you turned sixteen?
HUMBLE
Yeah. She died on my birthday. OK? [Pause.] How did you know that?
INTERVIEWER 2
What else happened on that day?
HUMBLE
How did you know that?
INTERVIEWER 2
What else happened on that day?
HUMBLE
I—lost my virginity.
INTERVIEWER 2
You don’t think that’s interesting?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
Did you see your mother before she died? That day?
HUMBLE
No…
INTERVIEWER 2
Why didn’t you see her?
HUMBLE
Because…
INTERVIEWER 2
Because you were with Lauren Kennedy. Little Lauren, who you watched Born Free with. She had pigtails. Then she got big boobs.
HUMBLE
How did you know that? What’s going on?
INTERVIEWER 2
Didn’t you say, you’re being raked over the coals?
HUMBLE
But—
INTERVIEWER 2
Now put on the helmet there and take the I Test.
HUMBLE
What?
INTERVIEWER 2
PUT ON THE HELMET!
HUMBLE
All…right…I… [HUMBLE puts on the welder’s helmet.] I can’t see. [He gropes for the security of the desk.]
INTERVIEWER 2
What did you think you’d be able to see?
HUMBLE
You said…
INTERVIEWER 2
I said I Test. As in me. You. As in memory and connection with life. There are many different ways of seeing, and therefore many different kinds of blindness. All you have to do to pass this test is to describe me. As precisely as you can. That should be easy.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
C’mon. What do I look like?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
What was your mother’s name?
HUMBLE
Hel-en.
INTERVIEWER 2
Helen. The face that launched a thousand ships. What was your wife’s name?
HUMBLE
Helen.
INTERVIEWER 2
You don’t find that interesting? Now tell me what I look like. Where’s the trick in that? Just tell the audience in simple terms what I look like.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
What color are my eyes?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
You know there’s an audience watching don’t you? They’ve been here the whole time. Watching you. There’s always been an audience watching. Watching you spit on the old man down by the warehouses. Do you know why he ran up to you? Yes, he was a little crazy, and maybe you should’ve been scared of him. But you’d seen him before plenty of times, and he’d seen you. He just came up to you because his cat was having kittens. He was excited. He chose you to share that moment with. He wanted to know if you wanted a kitten. And you didn’t just ride off did you? You spat on him.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
One little good moment in that old man’s life.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
He didn’t live in a nice house, did he? He lived in a shack in the blackberries by Oriole Creek. You never did see an oriole there did you? Just flat tires and empty cans of Mountain Dew.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
The old man died not long after that, didn’t he?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
You made up a story to impress your friends. You said the cat and the kittens started eating his dead body. You said they ate out his eyes.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
You can see the audience now, can’t you? You can’t see anything else, but you can see them. The audience that’s always been there. Like your friend Skip. He was the one you beat up, didn’t you? So you wouldn’t be all by yourself.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
And your sister, who in fact became bulimic and almost died because…because of what?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
Because you tormented her about her eating. Her weight. What was your special nickname for her. The one you taunted her with? Ah, yes. Macaroon. Cute. What’s her real name?
HUMBLE
M-mi…
INTERVIEWER 2
What was your daughter’s name?
HUMBLE
M-mi…
INTERVIEWER 2
Do you have a speech impediment? You should’ve advised us.
HUMBLE
M-mi…
INTERVIEWER 2
You named your only daughter after your sister—who you raked over the coals as you put it.
HUMBLE
Mi-a. Mia.
INTERVIEWER 2
And methinks culpa. Why did you neglect to mention that she also died in the car accident that claimed your wife Helen’s life?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
Why didn’t you say that you were driving?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
Why didn’t you say you were driving?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
How old was your daughter when she died?
HUMBLE
Six-teen…
INTERVIEWER 2
Sixteen. How fast were you driving?
HUMBLE
Eight—eighty-five. Miles per hour.
INTERVIEWER 2
Why were you driving so fast with your wife and daughter in the car?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
Did it have to do with your nice house, your job…the woman you were seeing—or all of the above?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
What was your woman on the side’s name?
HUMBLE
Laur…en.
INTERVIEWER 2
You don’t find that interesting?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
She was 43 then wasn’t she? You were surprised when she told you she was pregnant.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
Must’ve been awkward.
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
She was going to spoil everything for you, if she blew the whistle on you, wasn’t she?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
She wanted money. So, you worked out a way to dip into the till, didn’t you?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 2
Just a little bit…in a way you knew you could cover. But she wanted more, right?
HUMBLE
More…
INTERVIEWER 2
And she found out from you how to take it. You’d have lost your contract if you hadn’t gone along with her.
HUMBLE
Lost…
INTERVIEWER 2
She could’ve gotten you terminated and exposed you to your wife. You’d have been picked clean in a divorce settlement. She played you like a horn.
HUMBLE
Played me…
INTERVIEWER 2
You don’t even know if she was really pregnant. She used you.
HUMBLE
Used me…
INTERVIEWER 2
She used your skill as a numbers man to bilk quite a bit of money, didn’t she? The kind of money you couldn’t cover up.
HUMBLE
Cover up…
INTERVIEWER 2
Then she conveniently disappeared that day of the city train crash. Never heard from again. As if she’d planned the whole thing. It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?
HUMBLE
Funny…
INTERVIEWER 2
And then the terrible car accident. What really happened?
HUMBLE
I…don’t…know…
INTERVIEWER 2
Isn’t it interesting that your car accident and the train wreck happened on the same day?
HUMBLE
I…don’t…know…
INTERVIEWER 2
Take off the helmet and look at me. What color are my eyes?
HUMBLE
I…I don’t…know…
INTERVIEWER 2
What’s in the bowl?
HUMBLE
Noth-ing.
INTERVIEWER 2
Oh, yes there is. There’s something in the bowl, isn’t there? [Pause.] Put your hand in it.
HUMBLE
N-no…
INTERVIEWER 2
Put your hand in it.
HUMBLE
Pl-ease. No…
INTERVIEWER 2
Put your hand in it.
HUMBLE
[Against his will, he reaches out and puts his hand in the empty jar and bellows as if in agony.] AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!
INTERVIEWER 2
[Five beat silence.] You can go now. You know the way. You know the way so well.
HUMBLE
I…[Takes off the helmet at last and drops it on the floor, utterly spent.]
INTERVIEWER 2
We’ll see you next time.
[HUMBLE staggers off into the shadows, shattered. The second INTERVIEWER makes a final note in the ledger and then slaps it shut. The lights begin to fade, and the wheelchair turns. Before all goes dark we think we catch just a glimpse of the INTERVIEWER’S face. We can’t be sure but it seems as if the eye sockets are sealed over and blank. Blackout.]
EPILOGUE
INTERVIEWER 1 sits at a three-quarter angle with her back to us. This time she is completely topless. A large steel dog cage waits on the floor with its door open.
Everything else on the desk is as before.
On the floor beside the cage is a gigantic brightly colored beach ball.
[HUMBLE wanders in vaguely out of the dark, clutching a huge stuffed animal, which he absently drops on the floor the moment he passes out of the shadows into the light. The light seems especially harsh on him when he finally sits down.]
INTERVIEWER 1
Come in, Mr. Crumble.
HUMBLE
Humble.
INTERVIEWER 1
You’re humble? Well, don’t be shy too. Take a seat.
HUMBLE
I’m a Humble. [He looks at the cage and then goes to sit down precariously on the beach ball.]
INTERVIEWER 1
A humble what?
HUMBLE
That’s my name. Richard Humble. Didn’t you—
INTERVIEWER 1
I’m sorry about that.
HUMBLE
[Smiles.] Are you…making fun?
INTERVIEWER 1
Why? I’m sure plenty of others have done that.
HUMBLE
[Now a bit miffed.] I haven’t gotten your name…the girl on the desk—
INTERVIEWER 1
No, you got a rather silly name. But I’ll just call you 16.
HUMBLE
16? You’ve done 15 interviews for this position?
INTERVIEWER 1
Why would you think that?
HUMBLE
Because you just said 16…
INTERVIEWER 1
That’s only because it’s an easy number for me to remember. Are you trying to work out the odds—what your chances are?
HUMBLE
Well, I’d like…
INTERVIEWER 1
Given your age—and from what I know of actuarial tables—I’m not sure you’d like to know the odds of you even still being alive.
HUMBLE
Now wait a…
[A terrible, hideous scream of pure anguish erupts offstage.]
HUMBLE
What was THAT?
INTERVIEWER 1
Oh, just a training session in progress. Team building exercises.
HUMBLE
T-team…?
INTERVIEWER 1
You look very tired. Did you walk all the way in again?
HUMBLE
I…
INTERVIEWER 1
I bet you’re hungry too. I’ve got some nice lively crickets for you.
[Behind HUMBLE, a screen illuminates and we see projected once more the tarantula being fed crickets
. The stage gradually goes dark until only the spider remains…then it too fades.]
THE THEATER OF AMBUSH:
AN AFTERWORD
“Theoretically, it should be possible to ‘peel’ the collective unconsciousness, layer by layer, until we come to the psychology of the worm, even the amoeba.”
—Carl S. Jung
“…in the animal, man, there still functions a worm.”
—Wilhelm Reich
I grew up surrounded by theater. The First Congregational Church my parents ran seemed highly theatrical to my young eyes, with people in robes, strange moments of silent prayer, and then grand singing…stained glass windows…the brightly colored ceremonial fabrics. There’s a great deal of both subtle and highly explicit theater in the ritual of many kinds of church services.
The Humble Assessment Page 6