The previous CEO inappropriately exhibited behavior.
This closely references a passage of dialogue in Sadly, Porn, by Edward Teach M.D. Some of the H.R. rep’s phrasing comes from that passage, but while he leaned into the comedy of the exchange, I’m attempting to focus more on the surreal elements.
The woman’s age is…unclear, but she’s dressed young. Her hair is green, shaved on one side but still dyed down to the roots. Her left ear has three piercings, her right four, a rhinestone on the side of her nostril, and two black, snakebite studs frame her smile. Her black pantsuit fits well, jacket tight but not creased, buttoned low over a white silk blouse with a thin neckline that plunges to the bottom of her sternum. It does not seem work-appropriate, but perhaps times have changed. She doesn’t have much cleavage, but the low neckline displays an intricate tattoo of patterned feathers on her chest.
“Ed, right?” she says. “Thanks so much for taking the time today. The board was thrilled with your resumé, and we’re really excited to explore the competencies you bring to the table.”
“My…resumé?” Ed asks. The woman hands him a bottle of water. The way she moves is uncanny–very quick, very precise, but the end result is odd: She executes the motion only 90% of the way. Ed has to reach for the bottle just slightly more than he expects.
“Yes.” The frosty smile returns. “The way we see it, the company is undergoing a rightsizing, and as you know, the previous CEO inappropriately exhibited behavior.”
“Inappropriately–”
“The board believes that shareholders need strong assurances that this Ship of Theseus is in Shape of Theseus. Millennials killed the bull market, but we still need that cowboy symbol to keep the substance moving, you know? Now, of course…” She reaches out and smooths a wrinkle on Ed’s lapel. Her nails are green, the same shade as her hair, clipped short except for the little finger. “We need to make sure your playbook has all the right pages. This is a fast-paced operation, buy-in, lean-in, work-in, and when the music starts playing, all eyes are on you.”
Ed unscrews the cap of the bottle and takes a drink. The water is room temperature and tastes like plastic.
“So, are you ready?” the woman asks, as if her previous sentence had clearly warranted a response. Ed swallows quickly, inhaling a little of the water. He struggles to cough it up without an undignified fit.
“Um, y–” He coughs into his sleeve. “Sorry, yes.”
“Perfect. First question: What walks on four legs in the morning, two at midday, and three in the evening?”
Ed blinks. He’s heard this one before, but there has to be a twist, right?
“A…man,” he says, pausing. “Or a woman–except a woman wouldn’t need to lean on anything, so: a man.”
“Excellent!” Her smile is vaguely carnivorous now. “I love the process. We also would’ve accepted one of those new Amazon delivery drones, with the different ambulatory configurations for variable traffic conditions–you can’t fight the AI tide–but who can resist the flattery of the truth you think we think you should live? Market conditions are changing, and unless you want to have to report your minorities, you need to be including as many diverse equities as possible.
“Second question: Say you’re negotiating a consensually non-consensual merger and/or acquisition in flagrant violation of established antitrust law, and the other guys agree to a meeting. They show up with the full C-suite, all their reports, and 300 lawyers, then at exactly noon, they tell you they need further instructions from the shareholders and break for the day. They do the same thing the next day and the day after. What’s your strategy?”
“Is this company currently involved in an acquisition?” Ed asks. He doesn’t want to appear nervous, but the question seems oddly specific.
“Relax, Ed.” The woman glances at her nails, picking disinterestedly at her cuticle. “Strictly hypothetical, but we need to know you’re hyperengaged, that you’re the guy who’s gonna get the best people the latex-free material they need to erect better ones.”
“Well, then I’d say…they don’t really want the grueling negotiation and all that. But they probably have internal pressures mandating pointless shows of force.”
“What sort of pressures do you think?”
“Uh…toxic masculinity?”
“10-4, kiddo. So what’s the play?”
“I think we’d do the same thing, right? Pack up, fly out, say we also need guidance from the board. It’ll be expensive for us too, but that’ll raise organic pressure to finish the negotiation, which lets both sides save face. And as a bonus, the media coverage will be so exhausting that the FTC wouldn’t dare risk blocking the merger in the end.”
“I love how you dig deep to deploy empathy, Ed.” The woman gestures for him to follow as she proceeds to the other end of the lobby. “Taking the guilt out of global strategy lets us prioritize conforming over performing so we can be prophet-guided for our community instead of profit-seeking.”
They approach a wide, concrete column, adorned by two sets of silver elevator doors. Between them is a panel with several LED-lit buttons. Two are easily distinguishable as “Up” and “Down”, but beside those are five more, circular, unlabeled, their purpose entirely unclear.
The woman approaches and presses one of the side buttons. It lights up.
“I think the board will be pleased, Ed. You have all the bona fides we need for you to plug and play in this culture. Go ahead and breathe in the moment, and when you’re ready, head up to the tenth floor.” She smiles. Her canines are noticeably pronounced. “Welcome to Thebes, Ed.”
The elevator doors open, and the woman steps inside. Ed, slightly stunned at the pace of the interview, does not notice until after she vanishes that the elevator does not seem to have a floor. He rushes over to it just in time for the doors to close. Alarmed, he mashes the circular buttons on the panel, trying to remember which one she pressed. None of them light up.
Eventually the doors open again. Ed looks at the panel. He seems to have accidentally pressed the “Up” button, and now, beyond the doors, a perfectly normal elevator–with a floor and green-felt carpet and tasteful, brushed-steel paneling–is waiting for him.
He steps in. Inside, the button labeled “10” is already lit.
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