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I sat down and really concentrated while I wrote this.
I have to say, this is the best-- structure wise-- thing that I've written to date.
Here's a small segment of it.
Please give criticism. I need it. =)
The feeling of despair became more and more prominent as I skimmed over the long list of questions that I had no answers to. By the time my eyes reached the bottom of the page—question fifty—I seriously considered walking out of this room, this building, without even bothering to put my name on the application.
I took in a deep breath, to calm myself, but at once regretted it when the overwhelming stench of fast-food crap (also known as food) came soaring into my mouth, burning my tongue. Definitely a bad move. I tried to rearrange my thoughts into a more focused order but failed. I was a nervous wreck.
Calm down, I thought to myself. You can do this.
I knew that I could, somewhere—deep, deep, deep down inside—I felt confident in my ability. But that didn’t stop my hands from shaking, didn’t stop my head from involuntarily twitching, and didn’t stop my heart from beating in triple time.
Then something came into my head, as if my brain had been on the look out for a memory that would calm me. I remembered the manager speaking to me—in this very same violent orange room—and showing me some of the “outstanding” applications that they had received from their current employees. They had pointed to one of the questions and asked me to read it. Of course I agreed.
Question 39: What unique attribute do you possess that makes you stand out?
This had been their genius response.
I b3 wurk god with ppl im god with m$ney I hve elastick schedule
I had looked back up at the manager’s face, feeling the look of incredulity on my face. They looked back at me with a smug smile, their eyes crinkled with satisfaction, I guessed. Still paranoid that I was having some kind of joke pulled on me, my eyes wondered down to the name-tag pinned to their orange shirt. Which explained everything. That name and the name on the application matched.
Okay, if they could get a job here, than I definitely could. And if I didn’t, well, this place really wasn’t worth working at anyways.
I picked up the pen that as attached to the clipboard with a golden beaded string and began filling out question number one with a sense of indifference. The sound of the pen scrawling against the wooden clipboard helped me think, I could feel the flow of words coming from the pen to the paper. It was amazing how quiet this place was. Like my own orange world.
Of course, it was probably utter chaos beyond my private square. The manager had led me to the very back of the store where all the boxes were stored at, so I couldn’t hear any of what was going on in the main part of the building. The room was completely lacking in furniture—only a single chair and orangeness everywhere the eye could see. So there was nothing to distract me from the task at hand.
I finished the application in ten minutes, sure that my answers had been worded well enough to give me a shot at being hired. Not that proper grammar or punctuation or anything like that mattered when you’re flipping burgers. I stuck the pen back onto the clipboard and rose from the chair, making for the door. Thankfully, it was unlocked; the place really did feel like a prison cell.
I shut the door behind me and walked slowly along the dimly lit hallway, a little bit apprehensive. The manager in all of their smug orange glory hadn’t told me what to do with the application once I was done filling it out.
There was barely enough space to walk because both walls were stacked head to toe with boxes. I took shallower breaths as I closed the space between the exit, trying my best to repel the disgusting smell.
Then I noticed that something was missing. I stopped. My hands began to tremble, though this time it wasn’t for nerves.
Shoot!
Yes, something was definitely missing.
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