by Young, M. L.
I wasn’t the man I am today before that date. I was somebody who was pushed over time and time again for the sheer fact that I cared too much. Who did I care about so much? Not important. What was important was that I’d never become that person again.
Once I implemented control in my life, it all came full circle. The fledgling business I had been trying to start in vain for six months finally took off when my idea and app, RandomMeetX, was downloaded over ten million times in just a short year. I went from nobody knowing my name to magazines publishing my face on their covers while they wrote praise and admiration for the man who was bringing sex even further into the mainstream.
I run the world’s most successful dating and hookup service past, present, or future. Those archaic dating websites that promise to match you based on your similarities and love for papier mâché dogs and self-help books are nothing but a glimmer of history that has long since passed.
The future now is fast-paced and filled with a smorgasbord of carnal delights and sinful pleasures. This generation doesn’t care about 401ks and true love. They care about having things now, and having a large selection of hot and also hopeful singles and couples at their fingertips is like a match made in billionaire heaven.
The only problem with making an app and service like this is that it’s hard for somebody like me to use it. Sure, I could go into the databases and find women that met my every desire, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, the last thing I needed was for my board of directors to catch wind of what I was doing and oust me. The stock would plummet.
Besides, the types of girls who would like me for my money weren’t always the type of girls I wanted around. They were blonde, prissy, had silicone tits, and expected all the finer things in life. They were the type of women who wanted to be my trophy wife.
I preferred my women to be undiscovered and slightly bland. It isn’t to say that they aren’t beautiful, because they generally are, but I needed somebody I could mold. Somebody who would appreciate what I did for them and with them and wouldn’t ever question me. In turn, all they needed to do was what I asked them. They got nice things, their problems went away, and all of my desires and needs were fulfilled.
Now, of course I didn’t expect them to be my puppets. I liked control, but I also knew how to take no for an answer. I knew how to show respect. That’s not to say I wouldn’t try, though.
As I walked out of my office my receptionist, Grace, flicked around on her phone. I walked up behind her, unnoticed, and saw her scanning for men on the very app I started. She was hitting “like” on a plethora of men, none of them having any connection to her, and it wasn’t until I cleared my throat that she quickly locked her phone and put it away.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Hunter. How are you this morning?” she asked nervously as I walked around to the front of her desk.
“I’m well, and yourself, Grace?” I asked.
“Doing great, sir,” she said, smiling.
“By the looks of all your matches, I would say you’re doing great,” I retorted.
“Oh, you saw that?” she asked, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
“I love that you use our app and find it so helpful, Grace, but what would’ve happened if a client approached your desk and you were too preoccupied to notice they were there? Maybe you were chatting with a new match, and because of that we gave them a bad impression of our customer service? That wouldn’t be good, now would it?” I asked, with my arms crossed.
“No…no sir, it wouldn’t. I won’t go on again while I’m on the job, sir. I promise,” she said, swallowing and looking at me with nervous eyes.
“I hope you can stick to that, Grace. My last receptionist couldn’t,” I said, before turning around and walking away.
I felt like Moses parting the Red Sea every time I walked through this office. People, no matter their age, gender, religion, or status here at the company moved to the side like I was some sort of god. Most of them would nod and say hello while some would nervously look down, either at something in their hands or down at the floor like I was Medusa and would turn them into stone with one glance. I ran a tight ship, and it showed.
Even though I ran a tight ship, I still knew how important it was to create a good atmosphere for my workers. Many studies have shown that an active, fun workplace breeds higher output from your staff, and I must say, those studies were correct. It was almost as if people begged to work here these days because of the perks alone. They didn’t care about the workload or the sometimes longer hours as long as they got beanbag chairs and a free cafeteria.
“Mr. Hunter, may I have a moment of your time?”
I looked to my right as I walked down the hallway to see Trista, one of my executives and a long-time employee, standing there with a clipboard in her hands.
“What is it, Trista?” I asked.
“Mr. Jones of the Jones Corporation is on hold and is seeking a meeting with you about a possible merger. They think they could bring a lot to the table and that it would benefit both companies tremendously,” Trista said.
“I’m not interested,” I said.
“But, sir,” Trista said.
I looked to my left, down the hallway, and before I knew it, there she was. She was sitting inside one of the areas where interviewees were held while we drilled down the others who were scheduled first.
While she was far away, I could still see a certain glow about her as it oozed out of her pores. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful, at least not in a superficial way, but her long brown hair shined as it hung down. Her legs, crossed, looked slender and strong, while her breasts looked small yet perky.
She was what I was looking for. She wasn’t the plastic blonde type and she definitely wasn’t the trophy that many women wanted to be. She was different, and I liked that…a lot.
As I stared she caught wind and looked down the hallway, and our eyes locked intensely. She didn’t break my stare even though she looked slightly nervous.
Sharon, one of my executives and the person I trusted the most to interview, came out of her office and walked right towards that beautiful woman. That was why I’d never noticed her here before. She didn’t work here, but it appeared she was trying to, and that was good news for me.
With our line of sight gone, I walked back towards my office, snubbing every single person in my way who tried to talk to me. I didn’t have time right now.
“Grace,” I said, as I walked in front of my office.
“Yes, Mr. Hunter, sir?” she asked.
“I want you to call Tonya and have her escort the young lady who’s interviewing with Sharon at the moment into my office within the next five or so minutes. I would like to speak with her,” I said.
“Got it,” Grace said, picking up her phone.
I walked into my office, closed the door behind me, and made my way over to the large, expansive windows that lined my office. I looked out over the street, the people like ants below, their cars like the small toys I played with as a little boy.
I found her.
CHAPTER THREE
Penelope
Sharon, standing beside the door, shut it behind me as I walked over to one of the two white chairs across from her desk. She walked around, sitting in her chair, as she grabbed some papers from a stack that had my name on them. She looked them over, making soft, short sounds to herself as she read over them.
Her office had the overwhelming scent of vanilla. I looked around casually to try to find the source. It almost had the same smell that slow-churned vanilla bean ice cream has, and that was my favorite from back home. It seemed like there weren’t many summer days growing up that I could remember when we didn’t run down to Stan’s and get ourselves a kid-sized scoop for just fifty cents. Things in the rural Midwest were a lot different than things here.
“So, according to your resume it appears that you still have another semester before graduating from school,” Sharon said.
“Yes, I stil
l have a little bit to go. I’ll be graduating with a degree in computer science,” I said nervously.
“Well, that’s exactly what we’re looking for here today. I must say, though, every person who has come in here today, and the few days proceeding, has been going to school for that very degree. Tell me what sets you apart from the crowd,” Sharon said.
“Well,” I said, before clearing my throat.
I sat there for a few seconds as I tried to think of the perfect answer to give her. There she was, sitting across from me, asking me questions, but I had to admit I didn’t have many of the answers. I wasn’t good with pressure, especially in interview situations. My hands got clammy, my mouth filled with saliva, and I was pretty sure I got a light rash on my chest. I was a hot mess.
“To be honest, I’m not sure what sets me apart from everyone else you’ve interviewed. I know all of them are likely highly qualified, some even more than I am—at least on paper. I can tell you that I’m an excellent coder and I continually work on learning new techniques and ways of doing things. I’m very adaptable, and while a routine can always be good, I don’t mind having to stray from it—especially if it’s for the betterment of my team and company. I’m the kind of person who will stay late if need be and not expect any kind of praise or attention for it. I take orders very well and am always looking to please. I know I’d make a great addition to this team. I’m not looking to just intern somewhere. I’m looking to build a foundation and a place where I can have a career and be loyal. If there’s one thing I’m all about, it’s loyalty,” I rambled.
Sharon didn’t look at me with either satisfaction or dissatisfaction. She just…looked at me—and hard. I didn’t know why I said the words I did or what effect they’d have, but I didn’t want to be the same as everyone else here. I was sure the other interviewees, and who knew how many of them there were, were all saying they were go-getters and team players and all of the mountainous tripe that every interviewer has had to listen to time and time again. I didn’t want to be like that. I couldn’t be like that.
“I must admit something. I’ve been interviewing hopeful candidates for the past twenty years at a variety of companies. Each and every person comes in here, gives me the same spiel about how great they are and how much of a go-getter they are, and it’s honestly quite boring. It’s nothing against them, as I’m sure they’re great workers and even better people, but I’m not looking for an army of clones—especially at a tech company. We’re looking for creative individuals with a drive to not only enhance their work and skills, but also this company as a whole. You seem to be into that philosophy as well,” Sharon said.
“Thank you,” I said, with a little nod. “I’d like to think that I’m a person who can contribute and make this place better as a whole.”
“I would like to ask you some basic interview questions now, if that’s all right. Why don’t you tell me about a time where you overcame an obstacle,” Sharon said.
“Well, there was this one time I was coding an app for a friend. It was weird because—”
“No, no, not that kind of obstacle. I mean a personal obstacle,” Sharon interrupted.
“Oh, well,” I said, as I twiddled my thumbs and tried to think of a new answer.
I guess I’d had many hardships and disappointments in my life. I wasn’t exactly from a good home, if you know what I mean. I came from parents who were divorced when I was only two years old, and an alcoholic father who, while never abusive in any real way, was never there either. My adolescence was numbed only by the thought of leaving that small Illinois town and getting somewhere bigger and better.
“I think, I know, that growing up with a broken household was definitely my largest obstacle to overcome. My parents divorced when I was two, so I definitely don’t have any recollection of that. My life was always with them separated, which I suppose is easier than being old enough to actually remember a split or fights. I think I remember believing that our situation was normal and that everybody didn’t have their fathers around in the same house as them. I went to his house every other weekend for visits, but it wasn’t ever that much fun. He drank,” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It isn’t always easy when a parent or loved one is facing an addiction,” Sharon said.
“No, it’s not. Even with low-income parents, though, I managed to get out. I taught myself to code, got a partial scholarship to college, and was able to leave and end the cycle and the hold those moments had on me. I definitely haven’t forgotten them, and visiting back home during the holidays is a stark reminder of the life I once lived, but I believe I overcame it all,” I said, smiling a little.
“I would say you did. You definitely have an impressive resume, and you seem like a polite, poised, and very intelligent young woman. I know you’d definitely be an asset to any company someday, no matter where that may be,” Sharon said.
I panicked as I felt my stomach drop a little. It felt like a piece of cotton filled my mouth as I struggled to produce enough saliva. I’d be an asset wherever I went? What did that mean? Was I not getting the internship? I didn’t know what I’d do without this position, and especially the money that would come with it. I wasn’t sure I was prepared to walk out of here without any hope of salvation.
“Excuse me,” a woman behind me said.
I turned slightly. She stood with her hands against the glass while she looked straight at Sharon.
“I’m in the middle of an interview, Tonya,” Sharon said.
“It’s Mr. Hunter,” Tonya said.
“Is everything all right?” Sharon asked, perking up.
“Everything’s fine. He wants to see her…now,” Tonya said.
“Who, me?” Sharon asked, with a confused tone.
“No…her,” Tonya said, pointing at me.
“Me?” I asked.
“Did he say why? Can it wait until after the interview?” Sharon asked.
“I’m afraid not. He said he wanted her in his office as soon as possible. You know how he can be,” Tonya said.
“Well, okay then. I’m not one to say no to the boss. Penelope, if you will, Tonya here will escort you to Mr. Hunter’s office for, well, whatever he needs,” Sharon said.
She stood up, I stood up, and then she shook my hand before I grabbed my bag and shuffled my feet as I followed Tonya, who walked with a quick pace. What in the hell could the CEO of this company need to see me for? Who in the hell was he, anyway? From the news I knew he was a little reserved and out of the public eye, which was strange considering the nature of the company he founded and ran.
I meant to do some research about the company the other day, but with figuring out how to pay for my groceries and my share of the utilities for the month, I guess I just never got around to it. Now I really wished I had.
“Here’s his office,” Tonya said, as we came around a corner.
The office was different from all the other ones on the floor. There was no glass, no way to see in, and you were greeted instead by a woman behind a mahogany desk clicking away on her keyboard. The large wooden doors to his office remained shut.
I felt sick to my stomach as I looked at Tonya, who looked equally nervous, and she wasn’t even the one who had to go in there. With butterflies in my stomach and a nervous twist that made me cramp up a little, I took a deep breath and tried to relieve my stress.
“I’ll be waiting nearby for when you come out. I’m not sure if you’ll be going back to Sharon or not, but good luck in there,” Tonya said.
“Good luck? Why do I need that?” I asked.
“Mr. Hunter isn’t known to be the easiest man to talk to,” Tonya said.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“He likes to be very much…in control. You’ll be fine, though. I’ll see you shortly,” Tonya said, before walking back.
I walked up to the door, put my hand on the thick golden handle, and twisted it slowly.
A bright light shined as I opened the thick m
ahogany doors into Mr. Hunter’s office. His secretary never once looked up at me or said a word, which wasn’t exactly the encouragement I needed or wanted.
There was a wall of windows directly in front of me about fifteen or so feet forward. The office was large, a lot larger than any other I had seen here, though I guessed that was to be expected with the CEO of the company. His floors were wooden, which was a stark contrast to the carpet on the rest of the floor.
Standing in front of the windows was a man—Mr. Hunter. He looked out of them, his hands locked together tightly behind his back.. His posture and dress looked familiar, but I couldn’t see his face. I could only see the back of his head, and even that was intimidating.
“Please close the door,” he said in a strong, confident voice.
I turned around, obliging, before slowly closing the door until I heard it click. I let go of the handle, my hand nervously rising from it, leaving a bit of condensation on the metal from my clammy, overactive palms. I turned back around, facing him, as he continued to look out the window.
“I was told you wanted to see me,” I said nervously, as I cleared my throat.
“Every now and then I like to speak with a potential candidate and conduct an interview of my own. I sometimes feel as though I don’t have enough control over my company and the people we hire, and well, that’s just not acceptable, now is it?” he asked.
“Oh, I guess not, sir,” I said.
“Please, call me Blake,” he said.
“Yes, sir, Blake,” I muttered, as I clutched my purse to me.
“Have a seat. What’s your name again?” he asked.
“Penny. Well, Penelope, but everybody calls me Penny,” I said, as I sat down in a distressed brown leather chair with gold studs.
I looked around his office, as his gaze was still fixated outside on the streets of San Francisco. There was a fireplace, though not a single flame was burning. The heavily-waxed wooden floors reflected even the faintest hint of light that hit them. He didn’t have much in here, not even a cup of pens or a picture of loved ones. His office was minimalist in every sense of the word. It was cold.