The office of Squirrel Recruitment had the faint, sweet smell of damp documents and quiet despair. A single, wilted fern drooped in a corner, a silent testament to forgotten ambitions. Behind a desk sat Kafkett, a man whose suit had the bewildered look of something that had been through a car wash.
Across from him sat Normalson, a man so thoroughly beige he risked blending into the walls. Normalson clutched his CV like a holy text.
Kafkett leaned forward, his eyes wide and unblinking. “Let’s begin,” he said, his voice a confidential boom. “I am a Business person and so are you.”
Normalson blinked. “Well, I’m currently unemployed, which is why I’m—”
“Details, details,” Kafkett waved a dismissive hand. “You are a business man or woman, and so am I. I have registered. I am a registered business man or woman. This is a legitimate establishment.” He patted the desk, which wobbled precariously.
“Right. So,” Normalson said, trying to steer the conversation. “What is it exactly that you do?”
“Excellent question!” Kafkett beamed. “We find you Candidates. Have you lost your Candidates? Are these yours?” He gestured vaguely to a stack of papers that looked suspiciously like take-out menus. “Take them! I don’t want them.”
Normalson stared at the menus. “I… don’t have any candidates. I am a candidate.”
“Precisely! We provide a fully tailored integrated approach. What is it? You’re asking the wrong person. A horizontally-integrated synergy is at the grassroots of our success. What does any of that mean?”
Kafkett stood and began to pace. “We are a forward-thinking future-orientated company. Our Digital Team got stuck in the lift. How disruptive!”
He stopped and pointed a finger at Normalson. “Here’s the process. I come into your office. We do meeting-and-greeting. Greetings and salutations. Then I leave the premises. Voluntarily in some cases. I’m a very smooth operation.”
“But I don’t have an office,” Normalson mumbled.
“We can work around that. Together we can make you the success that you are today. But also employed. It’s a two-pronged attack. We have placed many people like you in the jobs like yours. We have flooded the market with quality candidates, and the market collapsed. How is that a good thing? I don’t know. I’m not your mother!”
Kafkett leaned against the wall, adopting a thoughtful pose. “We are extremely well-known in the Business Community. Many people spread lies about our company. One of our successes is starting an online forum where our candidates can discuss the service we provide. Another one of our successes is shutting down this forum.”
Normalson felt a headache blooming behind his eyes. “Do you have… references? Or reviews?”
“You can rate our services online,” Kafkett said cheerfully. “Good luck finding our site. We suspect it’s been deleted. But if you become one of our elite VIP candidates, you get your own dedicated Account Manager. He or she will be very difficult to deal with. Welcome to the real world.”
Kafkett sat back down, steepling his fingers. “Let’s talk strategy. Our main competitors are common sense, market fluctuations and carrying on like a pork chop. My chief concern about market fluctuations is that I don’t know what they are. “
He suddenly made two-fingered stabbing motions in the air. ” You have to have charisma to be good at recruitment which is what I believe this to be. Ways to appear charismatic include market fluctuations and random aggressive use of air quotes.”
Normalson just stared.
“I used to be like you,” Kafkett said, his voice softening with a strange, off-key empathy. “Hungry, lopsided and not using the words good.”
He cleared his throat, business-like again. “Now, for the interview preparation. We take turns interviewing the Candidates. If one of our Consultants embarrasses themselves then the next one goes in instead. Then the next. Then three more. Then lunch. Can’t be doing this all day. Our Digital Team locked themselves in the meeting room.”
He leaned in close, the scent of weak tea and confidence wafting over the desk. “As far as the candidate evaluations go, psychometric testing is an important tool.” He paused, a strange glint in his eye. “But so am I.” He let out a single, sharp laugh, then stopped abruptly, his face a mask of seriousness.
“It is important to have a sense of humour,” he continued, as if nothing had happened. “Much like a dog that can’t speak, I am great at sensing where the humour is. Would you like an example?”
Before Normalson could answer, Kafkett barrelled on. “Finally, the Squirrel Recruitment special. We can analyse your psychological issues that prevent you from gaining employment. Should we not find any such issues, we will create them for you.”
The room fell silent. Even the fern seemed to have stopped wilting to listen. Normalson opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked at his perfectly normal CV and cover letters, and considered the crushing, predictable silence of another rejection email.
“And if I am unhappy with that?” Normalson managed to whisper.
“If you are unhappy with that, then we have a special consultant,” Kafkett said smoothly. “If you are not unhappy with that, then we still have a special consultant. We have a special consultant regardless of your level of unhappiness. You are not the boss of us, I don’t think. I’m the boss of us, unless you know otherwise, and please tell me if you do.”
Normalson looked at the chaos incarnate sitting opposite him. He saw the void, and the void was wearing a cheap suit and making air quotes. And for the first time in months, he felt something other than beige. He felt a spark.
“Okay,” Normalson said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’m in.”
Kafkett’s face split into a triumphant grin. “Who runs the world? Girls. Any other questions?”
“No,” said Normalson.
“Good. Squirrel Recruitment. Are we the best in the business? No. But are we going to ruffle a few feathers in the industry? Also no. Welcome aboard. We don’t know where this ship is going.”
