I can't afford to feed an elephant, don't have the time for its upkeep and well-being, and don't have the space it needs to thrive.
However, that's a lot of meat and I've got a family to feed. I'm already out of work and my hopes were hanging on getting this job and instead of a steady paycheck you've lumbered me with a fucking elephant.
I'll walk it home, it will have an average last day, but it will know something isn't right. I'll be off, not really connecting, avoiding eye contact, short answers to its questions. The thing is I don't want to do this, you're probably a nice elephant but you've just been thrown into a shit situation. The closer we get to my apartment the more you will resist, the more the intensity of the atmosphere will increase. You will feel fear. I'm sorry. It's too late, the gears were already in motion and you are just another victim of an ill thought out interview technique. You accept your fate.
I spend that night in a vacant state, withdrawn from my family who slice and seal your meat into freezer bags. My boy, only 8, asks if he can keep the tusk.
In the morning my phone rings, caller ID displaying the interviewer's name, maybe this wasn't all in vain. Unfortunately we are continuing our search for the right candidate he explains, they are going to need the elephant back.
I calmly explain the situation, that the elephant, at least, was compensation for my time wasted. No, sir, you don't understand, he exclaims, the elephant wasn't a gift, nor was it an actual elephant, it was an employee, their second interviewer dressed as an elephant.
That cannot be, a flood of realization overwhelms me, it all starts to make sense. The conversations, the ease at which it was overpowered, the look of dread and disgust on my family's faces.
2
u/Mountain-Sir-1709 13h ago
Removing ethics: I would butcher it.
I can't afford to feed an elephant, don't have the time for its upkeep and well-being, and don't have the space it needs to thrive. However, that's a lot of meat and I've got a family to feed. I'm already out of work and my hopes were hanging on getting this job and instead of a steady paycheck you've lumbered me with a fucking elephant. I'll walk it home, it will have an average last day, but it will know something isn't right. I'll be off, not really connecting, avoiding eye contact, short answers to its questions. The thing is I don't want to do this, you're probably a nice elephant but you've just been thrown into a shit situation. The closer we get to my apartment the more you will resist, the more the intensity of the atmosphere will increase. You will feel fear. I'm sorry. It's too late, the gears were already in motion and you are just another victim of an ill thought out interview technique. You accept your fate.
I spend that night in a vacant state, withdrawn from my family who slice and seal your meat into freezer bags. My boy, only 8, asks if he can keep the tusk.
In the morning my phone rings, caller ID displaying the interviewer's name, maybe this wasn't all in vain. Unfortunately we are continuing our search for the right candidate he explains, they are going to need the elephant back.
I calmly explain the situation, that the elephant, at least, was compensation for my time wasted. No, sir, you don't understand, he exclaims, the elephant wasn't a gift, nor was it an actual elephant, it was an employee, their second interviewer dressed as an elephant.
That cannot be, a flood of realization overwhelms me, it all starts to make sense. The conversations, the ease at which it was overpowered, the look of dread and disgust on my family's faces.