|
One weekend evening a tall, skinny and unshaven middle-aged shipyard manager took a bus to his workplace to oversee some outstanding work. The bus-stop was a few hundred meters away from the shipyard and the manager was walking along the deserted stretch of road as usual when a long white hearse drove up slowly next to him and followed half a step behind him closely. Now the manager was normally a brave and composed man who had wrung the necks of countless chickens in jungle survival courses in the army without batting an eyelid, but he felt uncomfortably spooked as he spied the hearse following him with his peripheral vision.
After following him for about three meters, the driver of the hearse leaned out of the window and asked, "Want a ride?" Determined not to show his fear, the manager turned around to face the driver but got an unpleasant shock instead: the driver's face was incredulously grotesque with a horribly crooked chin, protruding yellow teeth and a sickening scab over where his right eye should be.
The manager balked at the unwelcome offer, taken aback by the driver's appearance. "Are... you... sure?" the driver asked haltingly, emphasizing every word this time. He gestured to the back of the hearse with his thumb, nodding at the coffin. "Room for one more."
Now profoundly disturbed, the manager walked briskly on, totally ignoring hearse and driver and shutting them out of his mind. He seemed just like the type of person to blow a little situation like that all out of proportion, even though it was no big deal in the grand scheme of things, just like my interviewer. It's uncanny how much resemblance this manager bears to my interviewer. They had the same irritating tendency to concentrate on something minuscule such as a jobseeker’s failed grade or two; and even an excellent grade for languages counted against the jobseeker as this proved conclusively that his talent lay elsewhere.
After an excruciatingly agonizing walk, the shipyard finally came into view, and unable to play it cool any longer, the manager broke into a sprint for the rest of the way. Panting as he reached the shipyard, the manager instinctively grabbed a safety helmet and instantly made off for the docks, seeking solace in the crowd of workers who were toiling through the night.
After composing himself the manager plucked up enough courage to return to his office in the administration building on the seventh floor. When the elevator arrived it was almost completely full, and he stepped aside to allow the crowd to get out. "Are you sure you don't want to come in?" a familiar voice sounded. "There's room for one more."
The manager gasped. It was the hearse driver, eyeing him with his one good eye and smiling his hideously crooked smile. I'm sure the driver couldn't help the way he looked, just as I couldn't help being jobless for three months since graduation, but the manager seemed pretty intolerant of stuff beyond people's control, just like someone I met not so long ago. And by someone I mean the senior engineer who interviewed me for a position this afternoon, who sneered at my national service appointment and poured scorn at my commitment to the cause.
Now thoroughly freaked out, the manager backed away and stuttered, "I... I think I'll take the stairs!" The hearse driver nodded, and the lift doors slid close. Before re-opening again. The hearse driver looked solemnly at the manager, took a deep breath and said: "Look, I think you should give the kid you interviewed recently a second chance. He was sincere when he said he didn’t mind the long hours. I've seen him holed up in a cleanroom for an entire Sunday."
A moment passed. The manager didn't say anything, but he seemed as if he was really thinking it over, reconsidering his decision to show the jobseeker the door. The hearse driver gave a wane, dignified smile, piercing the manager with a solemn gaze with his one good eye before the doors slid shut for one last time.
There was room for one more in the hearse; and there was room for one more in the lift. Perhaps there would also be room for one more in the shipyard? The manager shuddered at the recollection of his spooky encounter and made his way up the stairs, swearing to himself as he did to sack the lax security guard on duty the very next morning. Now that would certainly create room for one more.
|