Welcome to Hell

Welcome to Hell

  DEMELZA CARLTON

  DEDICATION

  For all my fellow commuters, corporate and civil workers.

  May you never be inspired by a stranger’s briefcase.

  Copyright © 2014 Demelza Carlton

  Lost Plot Press

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Part 1

  Part 2

  Part 3

  Part 4

  Part 5

  Part 6

  About the Author

  Job interviews were Mel's personal concept of Hell.

  "So, why do you want to work here?"

  "I don't," Mel replied.

  Raphael sighed. "Come on, Mel. I'm trying to help you. In a real interview, like the one tomorrow, they'll ask you and you'll need a convincing answer."

  Mel took a deep breath and tried to think of a reason. After a minute, she shook her head. "Sorry, Raphael. Ask me the next question. I'll have to think about that first one."

  "How about telling them it's because you need the money and you've heard they have good pay and conditions? Or because they're the best in the business? Or because you want to make a difference in the world and they're the best place to do it?" Raphael persisted.

  "I'll think about it," Mel said. "Try the next question. I still have a whole day before the interview. I might come up with something good by then."

  "In your opinion, what's the worst thing about you?"

  Mel stared at him. "What kind of question is that? I thought I was supposed to say things that make me sound good and employable, not let them know about my worst habits!"

  "Don’t tell them your worst habits. Say something that sounds good but that you don't like about yourself," Raphael suggested.

  "I can't lie."

  "Of course you can't lie – or you shouldn't. You need to say more than that, Mel. I know you've never had a job interview before, but you're not making this easy." Raphael ran a hand through his hair, looking worried. "You're supposed to sell yourself."

  Mel laughed. "Technically, this will be my first real job interview and my first paid job. I'd hardly call it selling myself. You make it sound so dirty…"

  "Just think of something about you that's really desirable for the job, but that you might not like."

  "My boobs are too big?" Mel suggested.

  "Oh Hell…Mel!"

  "Good afternoon, welcome to Hell–"

  Did she really just say that? Mel wondered, staring at the receptionist.

  "–lth, Environment, Life and Lands Corporation. How can I help you?"

  "Ah, I'm here for a job interview?" Mel left the statement hanging as a question – half hoping she'd be told there was no interview or vacancy, so she wouldn't have to undergo this ordeal.

  "Oh, you're from the agency? Take a seat and I'll let them know you're here," the girl said, waving toward the uncomfortable-looking bucket chairs. She picked up the phone receiver and stared at her until Mel's nervous knees folded, dropping her onto one of the seats.

  "Hi, it's reception. I have an agency girl here who says she has an interview." The receptionist sniffed as if she felt the accuracy of this information was questionable. A pause. "No." The girl's chin pointed at Mel. "What's your name, agency girl?"

  "I'm Mel."

  The receptionist's shoulders slumped as her eyes implored Heaven for something she evidently lacked. Mel wondered if it was patience, good manners or the ability to smile, as the girl seemed to lack all three. "She says her name is Mel. Just…Mel."

  Mel summoned a smile. She could be both patient and polite – evidently it was a rarity in this office, if the receptionist was anything to go by. Perhaps the girl was only a teenager, too young to know better, or maybe she'd had a bad morning…

  "She's on her way," the receptionist said as she clicked the phone into its cradle.

  Mel considered asking who the girl was referring to, but decided not to bother. She didn't expect any answer from her anyway.

  The door beside the reception desk opened and a red-suited woman emerged, scowling. She propped the door open with one shiny, red stiletto. "Melody Angel?" she asked, squinting at the sheet of paper in her hands.

  Mel winced. "I'm Mel," she repeated, extending her hand to shake the red woman's.

  She ignored it. "Follow me."

  The woman turned to her right and entered a small meeting room. No, an interview room, Mel told herself, looking at the office chairs circling the table. The furniture was occupied by two men, a jug of water and some empty glasses.

  Oh Hell. I hope all my practice questions with Raphael were worth it – and that I don't forget anything, Mel thought, attempting to keep calm. Please, don't let me stuff this up.

  The door clicked shut behind her with a terrible finality as Mel took her indicated seat.

  "Why do you want to work for our company?"

  Mel paused to choose her words carefully. "The Health, Environment, Life and Lands Corporation is experiencing unprecedented growth in a contracting economy, through turning the government push for cost-cutting, consolidation and privatisation into its primary strength. From securing contracts in health and immigration, to subsequent privatised government departments, the general consensus in the business community is that the Health, Environment, Life and Lands Corporation will soon control all government services. That's unprecedented power for a private company – and I want to be a part of it, to witness its almost miraculous success."

  The three interview panel members sported proud smiles at Mel's praise. The woman ran her fingers through her hair, giving Mel a glimpse of what looked like a small, pointed horn, before it was hidden from sight once more. Mel told herself she was imagining things.

  One of the men cleared his throat. "What would you say is your worst quality?" He ran his tongue nervously across his lips and Mel could have sworn it looked forked.

  "Three things," Mel replied smoothly. "A trinity, as it were. My eye for detail, my tendency to work too hard to the point of single-mindedness, culminating in my pursuit of perfection. I see things other people gloss over as unimportant and I work hard to ensure that my work doesn't include such errors of judgement. I'm a perfectionist – striving to provide the perfect product, even if I need to work harder to deliver that. That might be why I have a reputation as a miracle worker." She blushed and lowered her head.

  Beneath the table, she saw the tip of a pointed tail before it swung out of sight. She coughed to hide her exclamation.

  "Would you like a drink of water?" the woman asked, filling a glass from the jug on the table. As she handed Mel the half-filled glass, Mel had the impression that the woman's fingernails bore an eerie resemblance to black claws.

  Mel blinked and politely accepted the drink, sipping slowly. She set the glass down.

  "How do you deal with working on multiple projects at the same time?" the second man asked. Mel strongly suspected the tail belonged to him.

  She smiled broadly. "It's all about priorities. When I have competing deadlines, depending on my personal goals and those of my superiors, I assess my projects very carefully. They get allocated relative priority, based on their importance to both me and the people I work for. I then divide my attention accordingly. My time is valuable and wasting it would be a terrible crime, especially when someone else might need to pay for my oversight. The projects that are the highest priority take precedence." She couldn't keep the edge out of her voice and feared that the second man had noticed it.

  His eyes appraised her and she caught a glimpse of red before they faded to brown once more. She resolved to be more cautious for the remainder of her interview. After all, she did want to get out of there alive.

  "Do you have any ques
tions for us, or any further information you'd like to add?" the woman in the red suit asked. Her eyes had turned redder as the interview progressed, so Mel couldn't tell herself she was imagining things any more. Lilith – the woman's name was Lilith, Mel reminded herself. She couldn't remember the men's names.

  "No, thank you. I believe I've taken enough of your valuable time today," Mel responded with a professional smile. She rose to her feet, smoothing her pale gold jacket and matching skirt.

  The three interviewers stood with considerably less grace, making noises that expressed their gratitude for her time, for taking part in the interview, and for not mentioning the pointed tails beneath the table.

  Lilith opened the door to release her, waiting for Mel to leave first. Mel stepped out and almost collided with a man in a dark suit.

  His coffee splashed high, yet he caught most of it in his cup. Not a spot landed on Mel – just one on the man's shoe. "Damn," he swore, swiping at it with a black handkerchief that appeared almost instantly in his hand. As he rose from his crouch, he took in Mel's attire, from her toes to her raised eyebrows.

  He summoned a smile that clashed with the stormy expression in his eyes. "I don't believe I've seen you in the office before, and I make it a point to know all of my staff intimately." He handed the dripping cup to Mel's haughty interviewer. Lilith took it without a murmur, even as some of the coffee slopped onto her shoes.

  He held out his hand to shake Mel's. "Luce Iblis, CEO of HELL Corporation."

  Mel gave him her fingers, in such a way that he couldn't crush them in his firm