Congratulations Giant Rat!

It’s a tough world for a giant rat.  Giant rat traps, racists, angry people who like to take out their violent impulses on fuzzy, inhuman things.  Nevermind that you’re a beneficial symbiotic species that consumes the waste from human society, or that you have your Microsoft certification.  No one sees your value.

Well, almost no one.  Today you’re going to go to a job interview.  You’ll leave your adopted parents house (you live with a nice couple in downtown Boston who have made a habit of taking in “difficult” foster children and providing them with a home where they can flourish) and walk to the Red line.  Then you’ll ride to Kendall Square and enter one of the multitude of towering office buildings, faceless exemplars of the importance of a view in riverfront property.  Once inside you’ll wait, awkwardly and patiently, for the interview your computer science teacher helped you land to begin.

You’ll be summoned by a young woman dressed in a metal T-shirt.  She’ll have a face full of rings and rivets, a veritable scrapyard imbedded in the flesh of her face.  She’ll murmur your name with amusement.

“Wendell?”

You’ll hop to your feet and walk human style behind her as she leads you through a series of cubicles.  You’ll move through a sea of people, each of whom works at a surreally customized space.  One man will have a cubicle decorated with articles of mecha, another will have a cubicle covered with vintage pornography from the fifties.  One incredibly weird woman will be working standing up.

After moving through this sea of freaks you’ll reach an office where a man will be playing darts while sitting on an exercise ball.  When you enter he’ll present you with a ball.  You’ll climb atop it and, using your tail to balance, perch there attentively on all fours.

“So,” he’ll begin.  “You’re a giant rat.”

You’ll nod.

“What kind of challenges does that present you with on a day to day basis?”

You’ll twitch your whiskers for a few thoughtful moments before answering.

“People try to murder me on the subway a lot.”

He’ll put the darts down for a second and maneuver over to his desk on his exerball.

“Interesting,” he’ll murmur as he marks some things down on a paper.

From there he’ll ask you about your strengths, your weaknesses, your habits and hobbies.  He’ll ask you about esoteric technical protocols and favorite films.  At one point he’ll ask you about your relationship with your biological dad.

“Never met him,” you’ll respond, flicking your tail reflexively so that you slide off the ball and on to the floor.  You’ll have to scramble back up to the ball with your interviewer’s help.  He’ll hold the side as you mount and place yourself atop it.  You’ll thank him and smile, a rare occasion for a rat.

He’ll smile back, and, after another five minutes of questions, thank you for your time.

You’ll think of it as another blown job interview until you step out of the subway on your way home and see a voicemail.  On it the young woman with a face full of metal will ask if you can start work at the beginning of next week.  You’ll call her back right away, your voice rising to squeaking heights with excitement.  You’ll attribute your hiring to your ability to maneuver in confined spaces (you are still a rat after all) but after a month or two you’ll learn that you were actually hired because you reminded the CEO of his own estranged son.

“I wonder what he might’ve accomplished if he’d had a chance,” he’ll murmur, holding a plastic cup of wine in his hand.  You won’t know what to make of that statement, that night, or his decision, but you’ll appreciate it all the same.

Congratulations Giant Rat!