by PetitPau

At five thirty, I told my last customer of the day to kindly go and eff himself, then I closed the office. He took it in stride. The one good thing about a pandemic is, that people adapt to irregular opening hours without too much hassle.

Thankfully, today was rather quiet, and not many people knocked on my door, awaiting their parcel.

I closed the till, shut down my computer, and changed out of uniform, into my black trousers, black shirt with the missing button, and my old school tie. I took a last deep breath, brushed my hands through my hair, changed my mask, and followed my phone's navigation to the BigHit Motors Administration office. 

The closer I got, the more nervous I became. I already made a bad impression. I needed to do extra well in this interview today.

What if I fucked it up?

I sighed. There was nothing I could do either way. I rang the doorbell and waited to be buzzed in. 

"Good afternoon, sir. If you would please sanitise your hands," a receptionist greeted me, and I did as asked. 

"How can I help you today, sir?"

"My name is Min Yoongi. I'm here for an interview." My palms were all sweaty again. Thank god no one demanded a handshake these days. 

"Thank you very much, Mr Min. Whom did you say you have the interview with?"

I didn't… because for the life of me, I didn't remember the woman's name. "Erm…" I scratched my earlobe. I could feel my piercing hole and scratched it. It felt soothing, but it didn't help jog my memory. 

The receptionist kept looking at me expectantly. Darn, how many interviews did they do in a day? And more importantly, for how many different jobs? If I was one out of five-hundred, my chances of getting the job were pretty much close to zero. "I think it was a Ms…" The name was foreign, English, I believe, but her accent wasn't… "Windsor? Wonder? Wintour?" 

The receptionist typed away on their keyboard. "Ms Winter?"

"That's the one!" I sighed in relief. 

"If you want to take a seat for me, Mr Min. I will let Ms Winter know you arrived."

"Thank you," I bowed, then moved to the indicated waiting area and sat down on the edge of a plush armchair. It looked like one of those decorative pieces meant for big and luxurious hotel lobbies with pianos, butlers that were dressed like penguins, and Luis Vuitton suitcases. It was a chair, that was manufactured to be utmost comfortable, but at the same time, too opulent to really feel able to relax. I'd much have preferred a simple plastic chair. 

Minutes ticked past, but Ms Win…ner still hadn't arrived. Instead, the phone in my pocket started to vibrate. It was an unknown number calling. Probably some weird marketing call. I pressed the decline button, then put my phone back. 

Some people got out of the lift; a middle-aged lady in a black and white costume with a big sparkly brooch that probably cost more than my annual income, a young, shy-looking girl who was either the daughter or the assistant, a mid-twenties woman with an enormous coffee cup, and two men in dark suits who were laughing about something stupid someone called Sihyuk had said. None of them took any notice of me. 

"Have a nice evening," the receptionist called after the group as they left the building. 

More people came and went, but none of them were the lady I was waiting for. Had I been forgotten? I shifted in my chair, my leg jittering, my palms drowning in sweat. My phone started to vibrate again. The same, unknown number. Again, I sent them to my voicemail. 

"Evening, Mr Min?" 

I almost jumped, as I hadn't noticed anyone approaching me. The woman in front of me had pale skin, red hair that was tied into a painful-looking bun, and wore a no-nonsense expression on her face. I quickly shot up from the seat, bowing at the same, and almost stumbled over my own two feet. The woman didn't look very pleased. 

"Good evening," I replied. "Thank you for rearranging my interview. I'm sorry for this morning."

"Perhaps, next time, you'll pay better attention to emails sent to you." The woman said in a snarky voice. "Please follow me this way." 

We went along a nondescript corridor with frosted glass doors, until we entered one fairly in the middle.

The room itself was small. It held a round, white table with four black chairs and a pot plant, which looked fake. On the walls were some pictures of different BigHit cars over the years, and I hoped I wasn't asked to guess the models. 

"Please take a seat. Do you want any tea? Coffee? Water?"

"I'm fine, thank you." I didn't think I could keep anything down right now. 

Ms… W…. Took a seat across from me and typed away on her iPad. Back, when I had my last interview DJ had a printed out copy of my CV with a coffee stain on it. Somehow this fancy, pristine presentation intimidated me. 

"I can see you have been working at National Mail for the last nine years, and have only been promoted recently. Why the sudden move?"

I sat up in my seat and squared my shoulders. I had prepared for this question. 

"Gaining this promotion, I realised this wasn't the right career path for me, as my new role involved a lot of office work. While I'm confident I did a good job, I simply prefer to work with my hands." Assembly line was physical work, so my answer must have pleased her. But she didn't show any emotions on her face. 

"I understand," she replied. "We all have different strength, weaknesses and interests. Now, Mr Min, where would you see yourself in five years?"

I folded my hands, ensured my posture remained straight, and kept eye contact. I had done my homework. This was another interviewer-favourite. "I'm looking for a long-time opportunity with BigHit Motors and hope to have found a promotion within my skills and the company's requirements. I'm a hard worker who takes pride in doing their tasks well. I enjoy bringing in ideas and suggestions, but I'm not one to overstep boundaries," I added. 

Ms W… (I hope I wasn't required to repeat her name at any time) hummed, and scribbled some notes onto the iPad with one of those funny-looking pens that wasn't really a pen. 

"And within your career, have you ever been in a situation where you were criticised by a superior or co-worker, and how was that conflict solved?"

I had gotten on rather well with my previous boss, DJ, but he had the personality of a stoner-kid. Nothing could have seriously upset him. 'I don't get paid well enough for a stroke,' he used to say.

Piyaar had liked me as well. She was the one promoting me after all. Again, no conflicts there. In fact, I had listed both of them as my work references. I told Ms W as much. There was no need to mention that I've only worked with Piyaar for two months. Neither did I mention any of the issues I had with Dasong, or Mike. These had been out of the ordinary circumstances anyway. My phone vibrated again, and I hope Ms W didn't notice. 

More notes were scribbled onto the iPad until my CV looked like some graffiti art. 

"Would you consider yourself a team player, Mr Min?"

Fuck no. I hate people. "I think I work very well with a team and get on with my colleagues well on a professional level. I think great quality work requires a group effort, in which everyone does their part and supports another." Or rather, one poor idiot does all the work while everyone else slacks off and gives a fuck.

"And your marital status is single, Mr Min?"

"I'm…kinda seeing someone," I still had no clue what Kang Sookie and I actually were.

"Single, then." Ms W nodded and scribbled more notes. "So no family to consider. Great. I will mark you as fully flexible then." Ms W had a sip of water, then swiped up and down her tablet. "Now, to the legal stuff. When we conducted a background check, we found two criminal records. One for assault. Another one for theft and a hit and run."

"The theft got dropped, actually." I responded lamely. There was no way I could twist that into anything positive. The expression on Ms W's face agreed with me. "Well, the hit and run has nothing to do with the work required, but the assault charges are indeed concerning. We have a strict non-harassment policy here at BigHit." 

I nodded profusely, "I… I'm not a bully, Ms W…wwwworm…tail. This was an isolated incident, I can guarantee you that. I… In fact, the police officer at the scene can witness to that." I'm sure Joon would give me a character reference, if I asked. 

More scribbling, "And how did this…isolated incident…occur?"

Did I have to disclose this information? I'm sure I had some sort of data protection, didn't I? Fuck, was I really supposed to lay my life bare, just because my own dad is a bloody wanker?

"Of course, you don't have to disclose any uncomfortable information," Ms W… —shit, had I butchered her name a moment ago?—stated, but her expression got significantly colder. And it hadn't been all that warm to begin with. Well, if I really wanted this job… here goes nothing… "I had an argument with my father. I got upset because I was on eighty-plus hours per week at the time,  and he got upset because he was stuck at home on self-isolation—my parents are in the risk group, you see—and in the end, none of us managed to visit my brother in hospital for a month." I scratched my head. "I know I shouldn't have allowed things to escalate, but I was simply overwhelmed. I know this is no excuse for my behaviour."

I thought I saw a small smile on Ms W's lips. "It's hard to keep your emotions out when family is involved. I suppose you're close to your brother?"

"Very. Jimin is the best. In fact, he was my role model for many years…" I trailed off, bit my lip. I had looked up to Jimin, who somehow always managed to combine a high-demand job and affluent lifestyle with humbleness and compassion.

"You used to? What has changed?"

"Jimin was involved in a severe accident."

"The hospital stay you and your dad fought about," Ms W nodded. 

"Jimin…" I trailed off. It was difficult to speak about the incident still, despite it having been nine months. I bit back a tear, then pressed on. "Jimin had a car accident, where he was cut off oxygen for too long. He… He… requires help with his daily life these days. He has a mental disability." My thoughts shifted to all the shit we went through in the last couple of months. 

"You know, fuck that. I'm still looking up to my brother. Because you know what, he is the most amazing human being I ever met. All the shit he went through, the way fucking people treat him, the way he has to basically relearn literally everything, it must be so fucking tough. But he is soldering through. And he is still compassionate and funny and…intelligent—in his own way. So yes, I guess, he is my role model. Because I have bloody fucking respect for this wanker!" I gulped, hung my head in an attempt to hide the traitorous tear that was running down my cheek. "I'm sorry. I guess that outburst was rather unprofessional," I apologised.

"Have a tissue, Mr Min," Ms W shoved a box my way. 

Feeling like an utterly useless fool, I reached for one, blotted my cheeks and blew my nose. I swear the sound could have been heard at the other end of the building. Well done, idiot. What a spectacular way to make a fool of myself. "I'll see myself out," I croaked, then shuffled to the door. 

"Mr Min!" 

I did not turn around or say goodbye like any sane human being would have done. Rather, I hunched further and legged it from the building as fast as I could. Fuck good intentions. I needed a bloody fucking cigarette right now.

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