After graduating college, I got a mysterious job interview. It was the worst decision I ever made.

Upon graduating, I felt completely lost. The celebratory champagne had barely even flattened before it hit me: I had no idea where I was headed next. I applied to countless positions the summer after college, but none of them seemed to pan out. Being unemployed, evicted, and back living in my childhood bedroom was starting to lose its luster. There was nothing worse than the constant reminders of my failed attempt at becoming a responsible adult. One morning, as I rummaged through my email inbox in search of some sign of hope, I stumbled upon an odd message. It was addressed to my student email, with a return address that read “[email protected].” I assumed I had forgotten applying for a position at CanineCorp, and was excited at the possibility of having landed an interview. A few days later, I found myself walking down a crowded street in lower Manhattan. The great stone building stared up at me, its bold letters reading the name that was printed on the business card I had been given the week prior. “CanineCorp - Improving the Future of Human Canine Relations.” I approached the receptionist’s desk in the lobby, handing her the business card. She looked at me with a blank expression before taking the card from me. “Ms. Morris will be down in a few moments, thank you for waiting,” she said robotically. The waiting area was sparse, with only two other people sitting in it. They looked at me awkwardly, with the man raising his eyebrows and smiling. The woman just stared. “Good luck,” the man said. “Thanks,” I replied, trying to smile. A few minutes later, an elevator next to the desk opened. A woman with curly brown hair and a bright yellow sundress stepped out. “Mr. Brewster, Ms. Jenkins, you may go in now,” she said stiffly, looking to the other two applicants. As they stood and began walking toward her, the woman stopped to look at me. “And of course, Mr. Scully. Come along,” she said. The three of us followed the woman into the elevator. We were silent as we ascended, finally coming to a stop on floor thirty. The woman walked us through a set of double doors, sending them on their way through a second set of doors down the hallway. She approached me. “Mr. Scully. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ms. Morris. I’ll be conducting your interview today,” she said before turning to lead me into the room adjacent from the pair’s apparent location. Her office was lavishly decorated, sporting a large desk with a vase full of roses in the corner. Had my life not been in such disarray, it might have been a nice place to work. Ms. Morris took a seat behind the desk, pointing to the chair in front of it. “Please, tell me Mr. Scully, why do you think you would be the perfect fit for CanineCorp?” she asked. “I, uh, I graduated from the University of Albany with a degree in computer science. I’m pretty good with coding and stuff,” I said, stupidly. She smiled, “Well, Mr. Scully, you certainly have come to the right place. We are in desperate need of a man with your skills.” “Thank you,” I replied. “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Scully. We will be in touch with your results shortly,” she said, rising from her chair. “Thank you,” I repeated, exiting through the door I had initially entered. I rode the elevator back down to the ground floor, thinking nothing of my brief interview. They probably weren’t interested in me anyway. I couldn’t help but think I had already blown my chances. I walked out the great glass doors, taking my first deep breath of the crisp New York City air after being inside. I turned the corner to see the man who smiled at me as I walked in earlier. He sat on a stone bench, smoking a cigarette. “Hey,” he said. “I’m Paul, by the way.” He raised his hand to gesture. “I’m Greg,” I replied, shaking it. Paul snuffed his cigarette out with his shoe and stood. “Well, Greg, nice meeting you. Hopefully we’ll both hear back soon,” he said. “Yeah,” was all I could manage to muster. “See you later,” Paul said, smiling, as he walked away. I watched after him, wondering what his occupation was, and how he would fit in at CanineCorp. A few days later, I received a voicemail from Ms. Morris. She explained that I had been accepted for the position, and was to report to the given address at 9:00 the following morning. That night, I celebrated with a bottle of cheap wine. I had finally done it. I was going to be a productive member of society. As I finished off the last drops in the bottle, I noticed something. On the business card they had given me, there was an address listed. It was not the stone building I had visited a few days prior. I figured it must have been a mistake, as the-suited man who had initially given me the card said the building on it was where I should report for my interview. The next morning, I made my way to the address listed on the card. It was a dingy concrete building on the outskirts of the city. The words “CanineCorp” were written in paint on the front wall of the building, in the same letters that appeared on the building in which I had my interview. I walked up to the metal door, turning the heavy handle to push it open. A security guard approached me, eyeing me up and down. He stepped closer to me, reaching for my shirt. I winced, thinking that somehow along the way, I had been confused for a criminal. Instead of grabbing onto me, the guard fastened to my shirt a plastic tag that read “Greg Scully.” “Welcome aboard,” he said gruffly as he walked away. I was confused, but figured that I shouldn’t question it too much. I made my way up the flight of stairs behind me, coming to a hallway lined with doors. I walked down the hall, searching for any sign of what room I was supposed to be in. I finally came across an elevator, and decided to take it back down to the entrance and find the security guard. Just as I pressed the button, the doors opened. There stood Paul Brewster. “Hey! Greg!” he said, with a shit-eating grin. “What did I tell you? They’re not idiots. They see a good thing when they see one,” he said as he patted me on the back. I awkwardly smiled and shrugged. “Yeah. Sometimes you just have to assume you got the job,” I laughed. “I know, right? I told you. Anyway, I have to get to training. See you around the office,” he said. “Alright, thanks,” I said. He walked past me as I stepped into the elevator. Only two floors were listed: G and 1. I assumed G stood for Ground, bringing me back down to the entrance. I pressed 1, wondering what the training Paul had mentioned was for. The elevator finally stopped, and I stepped out into a long corridor. There was a set of doors at each end, with another door in the middle of the hall. The middle door was slightly ajar. I walked towards the door, pushing it open. Inside, I found roughly twenty other people. Some of them I recognized from the waiting room. They sat in rows in front of a podium, where a man stood. “Mr. Scully! Welcome! We were starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he said. I awkwardly smiled and made my way to the only open seat. The woman in the seat next to me handed me a stack of papers. “Welcome to CanineCorp. My name is Mr. Thompson, and I will be your instructor for the duration of your stay here. During that time, you will learn the specifics of your job,” he said. I tried to Form a question in my head, but the man beat me to it. “I see a few of you are confused. Your occupations within this facility will be disclosed later in the training process. We need to start with the basics, and then you are free to go about your business. Now, if you would please direct your attention to the papers you have been given. It is your employee contract. Please follow along as I read aloud.” I sat in silence along with the rest of the room as the man read from the pages. The contract seemed relatively simple. We were to work a minimum of forty hours a week, with no less than eight hours per day. We were not to speak of our occupations within the facility to any person outside of it, and we were not to roam the facility unattended. Finally, it came time to sign the contracts. I looked over to the woman next to me. She had already signed hers, and was scanning the room. When her eyes locked onto mine, she gave me the same awkward smile I had given multiple people so far in the building. I scribbled my signature down on the last page of the contract, handing it to the woman. She took it from me, smiling, as she passed it along to Mr. Thompson. For the rest of the morning, we were taught how to enter the codes for the locks in the facility, and how to

After graduating college, I got a mysterious job interview. It was the worst decision I ever made.

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