The Interview

The imposing building in the middle of a football field sized carpark was a real bastard to get to. A wicked southerly was coming in from the beach, and an icy rain was beating in sideways. You'd think these guys would have a tunnel or something.

The reception area was spartan, but comfy. Whites and a few splashes of primary colours, no pretentious or novelty artworks.

A woman came to meet me, she led me through a door that seemed to sweep gracefully open at her approach.  I was sat in a functionally furnished interview room.

Presently, a nurse joined us to hook me up to what I think was a polygraph machine, and to manoeuvre something that looked like a small camera up to within a few inches of my right eye.

With my left eye, I could see my interviewer and the nurse poring closely of the image of something on a laptop.

"We have some questions to ask you, and also some tests to administer."

I saw the nurse check the contents of her bag. I felt a cold sweat coming on, "Hang on, I did the Myers/Briggs for the agency!"

"We have our own testing methodologies here at The Corporation. They've served us well over the centuries."

I was asked my name, my date of birth, and sundry questions about my experience and suitabilty for the job.

I was told I would be asked a series of psychological questions next, and to answer honestly and sincerely.

"Question 1: You’re in a desert walking along in the sand when all of the sudden you look down, and you see a tortoise, it’s crawling toward you. You reach down, you flip the tortoise over on its back. The tortoise lays on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can’t, not without your help. But you’re not helping. Why is that?"

"Uh... can I ask questions as we go?

"You will just answer the questions. Now, question 2: You are given a calfskin wallet for your birthday..."