A battle of slavery. Two armies facing each other at the brink of dawn with their weapons in the air, ready to strike their opponent as soon as the trumpet blows. Behind their shielded faces, they have held a humble and polite façade, treating their opponent with the utmost respect and professionalism. The distance between the two armies: a mahogany-coloured 5-foot-long and 2-foot-wide office table. Their steeds: 360-degree rotatable office chairs with extra gliding wheels on them. Their weapon: their tongues.
For years, the armies have been trained for this very day, for this very job, and for this very position. They have been taught what to speak and what to say, even if you’re flustered or don’t know the answer. As soon as the armies enter the battlefield, that is, the interview room, the battle begins.
The Very First Handshake
You shake the hand of your opponent with a firm grip, giving a good first impression. You look them in the eye and smile, all the while thinking how early you had to wake up for a job you don’t even want. Your opponent, the interviewer, welcomes you with a hearty voice while thinking about how many more of you he has to greet. You both sit in your chairs, and your blades are now drawn. The battle officially begins. You’re asked for your introduction. A young person who has no desire for the corporate world and who wants to live in a small countryside cabin and eat pasta all the time. You don’t want the job; in fact, you don’t even want to step into the world of corporate, and it’s all for survival. The interviewer agrees and even comments about his whole painful journey and how he, after putting in all his blood, sweat and tears, finally got the position for which he is actually overqualified and how he hates working over here in such a toxic place where the boss doesn’t give value to his opinions. He spares his comment most casually, even laughing while saying it.
Your Everyday Battle
You start to think that it is your regular corporate job. Get underpaid, work 50 hours a week, and have evil coworkers and even a more evil boss, who comes in late himself and expects everything to be up and running as soon as the first light of the day touches the ground. The battlefield has been a bloody one, so it seems, from the remnants of the people who were once in the same position you’re now interviewing for. It appears as if no one really survived that harsh war, and all accepted defeat by either quitting or, worse, by being fired. But would you be the knight who faces all the challenges, who stands his guard till the end? Even if you do have the ambition, this corporate job won’t let you.
The interviewer moves to the next segment. We are now at arm’s distance with each other, swords just waiting to penetrate the skin. There’s no need to ask for the steel (your qualification), your sword has been forged in. After all, you came here based on merit. Right? And besides, all of the detail is in your resume, which is currently in your opponent’s hand, who seems to read it quite carefully, but it all looks like gibberish to him at this point because of how exhausted he is now from taking interviews the whole day. He admits he doesn’t understand a word you’re saying and isn’t even listening to your answers. He decided the moment you stepped into his office whether you would be a part of the team or not based on the type of socks you wore. Qualifications didn’t matter. The right pair of socks did. A pair of classic brown with two grey stripes means you’re too sophisticated for his taste. Add a dash of funk, like hot dogs or mismatched socks because you thought your trousers were too long for anyone to notice, and bingo! You’re in the team.
The next attack is from your side when you ask for the type of work you would be doing, and also add that you wish to do no work at all, fix your own schedule of coming and going and would love an assistant, even though you’re just a fresh graduate who came here from a referral. The interviewer says, ‘Oh, not much, just that you would be doing your work as well as fetching coffee for everyone, listening to everyone’s mean things with a smile, not even looking at the boss in the eye and keeping your opinions to yourself.’ In the end, you would be begging for that sweet blade rather than working in this “family culture”-oriented environment for even a second more. You look the interviewer in the eye and ask for his sanity, wondering why he’s still working here, but also understanding that this is how it’s done, and you would gladly join the company just because it looks good on the resume. Waste 5 years of your life, sure, but having a company’s name you just heard about yesterday be displayed on your CV seems like a fair exchange for 5 years of your precious life.
Friend or Foe?
You both soon realise that the real enemy is not each other; it’s the corporate system, and you both are actually on the same side, fighting the same fight, just in different uniforms. You both know you will lose this war and lose so much time of your life trying to win it, but in vain, you still fight. Because what would you be without it? The corporate war general wouldn’t allow it. You either die on the battlefield or die on the pavement begging for the few extra bucks you couldn’t earn because you refused to be a part of the system. It is death in different fonts. You just chose the font to write it with.