Meaningful Words For The Wrong Crowd

All of this talking with Ren made me remember something that had happened about two weeks before Junpei had died. Something I had lied about to everyone else.

The only people that knew it happened was myself and the other, evidently disinterested people within the room.

It took place during an unsuccessful interview for a job. I won’t shower you with the boring details, but it was something within finance. A big-time job that eventually would cause you to lose more hair than earn money — or so some people had told me rather colloquially. It was hard to tell if they were telling the truth; the chuckling tremble in their voice always made me unsure.

I wasn’t one to feel nervous, but this time my breathing pattern was more unnatural than usual.

I sat at reception on a brown, leather sofa which presented me with plenty of room to lean back and feel comfortable. It finely countered the tight, overbearing suit that I was wearing to look smart and professional. Though the suit suffocated my skin, my neck was able to rest against the sofa and help me relax somewhat.

The large fan that hung above me helped as well. Yet it also provided the perfect distraction, disrupting my already muddled thoughts.

Each time I arrived at a place like this, it felt like I had entered a new realm. The people spoke in a certain way that bordered on robotic, and everything seemed a bit too clean. It made me think that no one here felt truly at home.

Even I’m not perfect at keeping things clean. No one willingly is.

Nevertheless, it was something I needed to get used to if I wanted to achieve my life-long ambition.

Not too long after I had arrived, I was called into a room. I was met with two senior individuals, both dressed smartly and sounding even more automated than the receptionist that showed me through.

They were both men…and both had hair. That was reassuring, I thought.

However, I had to quickly get rid of any thought that lacked significance in this particular circumstance. I had to shift my focus back to the interview and ready myself for any question they threw at me.

Without introducing themselves, or letting me do the same, they began their bombardment of questions, maintaining the same poker-face.

I remember the first question. It was a strange one, but, according to their website, it was a useful way to understand me and my character a bit more.

“What is your preferred choice of food? Fried chicken…or pasta?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but not before analysing their expressions. They didn’t change one bit.

“Ummm…” I stuttered out of confusion, “I guess…ummm…fried chicken. It has protein.”

“What about the fats and oils you’ll consume alongside it? Does that cancel out the fact that it has protein?”

Again, nothing changed about them. What made it more nerve-racking was that, during every moment of my silence, the interviewer not asking the questions would write something down in their notepad.

I glared over at them for a second, before averting my attention back to the one asking questions.

“It doesn’t really matter. I’m not that healthy of a person anyway. I’d simply choose the one I think tastes better, and perhaps I know my siblings would prefer.”

They scoffed, quickly moving on to another question.

“So…why did you bother applying to this firm in the first place? Money, right?”

I chuckled nervously at the question. They stared at me blankly, awaiting my answer.

Having cleared my throat, I gave them my answer. It was rehearsed…word for word.

It was full of boring facts I had found online and made-up reasons for why I couldn’t think of a better firm to work for. This brightened their faces a little, yet it didn’t stop them writing vigorously at every chance I paused for more than a second to think and compose myself.

I eventually found myself twenty-five minutes into the interview and I was faced with more of the same. The same old boring questions and the lifeless faces of the interviewers. I started to worry considering this was supposed to last for at least one hour.

However, at around this point, their questions became more personal. I hadn’t really prepared for these because I thought my answers would be better if they came naturally rather than through the form of a fabricated lie — like my other answers mostly had.

I remember one question in particular that stuck with me. Not because it was particularly special, but because it resulted in a chain of questions that made me think in ways I didn’t expect to during the interview.

“You mentioned you had siblings. How many?”

“Two. One's my twin, the other is younger. Both boys.” I tried to anticipate their next set of questions.

“What are they doing at the moment?”

“Well, my twin is still in High School like me. The other is in Middle School, as of now.”

“And do you get on well with them?”

I thought for a moment, thinking quite hard about what to say. “Of course. Well, we don’t really fight anymore. They tend to spend a lot more time together. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you, though. I’d assume that must’ve been the case when you were younger. That is, if you had siblings.”

Almost in a synchronised manner, they squinted at me with a sense of agitation. The one that only had written until then finally spoke.

“Wrong. In fact, I still see my sister every single day after work. When we grew up, we’d spend a lot of time together.”

“That’s nice,” I added.

They went straight back to asking questions on the same topic.

“What’s your twin brother’s favourite subject? What does he want to do with his life?”

“Ummm…” I had to think quickly. “Woodwork” I lied. “He is quite handy and so he likes getting his hands dirty." That was the most generic thing I could think of. They didn’t seem very convinced, and so they pursued me.

“What about your younger brother?”

I didn’t want to lie this time, so I just said what first came to my head. “He’s not really interested in school. I think he wants to become a gaming streamer one—”

“You ‘think’?”

That question flustered me. Was it obvious that I wasn’t certain in my answers?

I was too shocked to respond, so I sat still, waiting for something to happen.

“And what do they do for fun?”

“Well, they like to play a lot of video games, like I said. My twin brother, Ren, loves going to the gym, playing all kinds of sports and, most of all, eating at every opportunity he gets. My youngest brother, Junpei, is almost the same, save for the gym part.”

I rambled on, not realising that I was doing the very thing I had been advised not to do by my teacher. “When I think about it, their way of living is strange, but they are always happy. Sometimes I think that their life is so nice and simple, it’s more worth living than one like this.”

My eyes wandered around the room, not realising that both interviewers were both scowling at me.

“Every time I leave my room and hear them having fun together, I get jealous. Not necessarily because of what they are doing, but because I decided to reject their offer and not join in. Well, there was this one time where I—”

“Oh would you look at that,” one of them sarcastically said while peering at their wrist. “I think time is up." There was no watch on their wrist. Mine told me there was still another twenty-two minutes left.

They ushered me out of the room quickly, not even attempting to fake a smile as they closed the door in my face.

I remember sitting outside the building on a bench for about twenty minutes, to avoid making it obvious to my parents that my interview had ended so abruptly.

This strategy seemingly worked as I arrived home around the time my parents expected, no suspicion around my experience surfacing.

I then did the usual. Told them about the experience, and then headed straight for my room to go on my laptop.

I thought about how the interviewers probably got tired of my rambling at some point and simply stopped listening.

That didn’t bother me, however.

I knew that I had found out more about myself that day than they had after that.

And I was okay with that.