"How may I assist you today, sir?" the receptionist greeted me while I leaned against the metal crutch standing in front of her desk.
Hearing the word "sir" really made my skin crawl. After what we'd gone through with that child, that word never sounded the same to me again.
"I'm looking for someone. He works in the IT department."
"May I ask if you've scheduled a meeting, sir?"
"No."
"Can you fill out this form with your name and other personal info so we can send them to th—"
"He works in the IT department. It will only take two minutes."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid you'll have to follow the procedure and schedule a meeting."
"... What do I have to do?"
One line on the form asked for the subject of the meeting. I wondered if they'd let me through if I wrote "personal".
"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but private meetings during working hours on personal affairs are strictly prohibited by our company." She took back the form the moment I finished putting down the word "personal". "All scheduled meetings must be work-related."
"It's related to his work, all right." I suddenly felt some pressure in my right temple.
"May I have the main topic and project name for the meeting?" She placed a different copy on the desk.
I wrote down in the project name field, "cipher of undisclosed self-generative longhand communication device". Technical jargon made everything sound smart.
"One moment, please."
She was seriously going to look it up on her computer. This was the customer service for a fast food chain. What information were you even trying to protect? Fried chicken recipes? The only kind of clients you'd ever have to deal with were the ones complaining about getting only four chicken nuggets in their portions instead of five.
What's wrong with you people?
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing." I rubbed my oily hand against my black trousers and beamed, gnashing my teeth. "You know, I really admire that the firm and staff here at Eat and Bust follow a very elaborate and disciplined policy framework. They've got to give you a raise after this." I subtly nodded five times to show that I truly believed in every single thing that just came out of my mouth.
"Why, thank you, sir!" She puffed out her chest and got exactly one centimeter taller. "We are proud of the fact that our policy values privacy and information security always takes first priority at all times."
What were you even trying to keep from the rest of the world?
"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but it appears that I couldn't locate the project name cited in the form in the system's data base."
"This is very recent. The system might not have had the time to update yet."
"Understood, sir. In that case, I'd recommend waiting a few more hours, or I can submit a request to have it added manually if it's urgent."
"Yes, it's very urgent. I'm in a rush, so if you could help me."
"One moment, please." She ran off into the hallway behind the elevator.
After sitting in the lobby for what felt like a couple of days, I was finally called upon to go to the meeting, "Mister... Robert? She appeared from the hallway. "You can come in." I wondered if she'd had to fly to another country to add the project name manually. The entire reception area had been deserted for the past three hours—I was the only one there.
The receptionist gave me a quick nod, "Please come in. Before you enter the meeting, you'll be asked to complete our safety protocols."
I looked at her while making a face like I was going to sneeze.
"Our security team will guide you through the steps. It will only take a few minutes."
Hobbling on my crutch, I went down the long hallway then through the first large white door. I was met with a very familiar face.
"Is there a problem, sir?" The girl from the reception asked me. She was now wearing a black denim jacket with the bright, golden "security" text printed on the top-left side of her chest.
"Just get on with it."
"Please sign your name here." She pointed at the bottom of the contract.
Full Disclosure Agreement.
I couldn't be bothered to read anything at this point.
"I'm going to take your fingerprints. Can you show me your hands like this?" She raised her palms at me.
All ten of them??
This is ridiculous!
Then, she told me to go into the next room, where another guy would give me a check-up, presumably for a recording device.
She then asked me to get on the X-ray machine in a different room to check if I was carrying anything suspicious inside my body.
Once we were done, we got back into the long hallway and went into another room, where she said, "We'll now give you a CT scan. Please put this on in the bathroom and then go through that door, sir. Don't worry, the doctor will assist you as you come in."
She noticed I was looking around and she knew exactly what I was thinking.
I came out of the bathroom in my hospital gown. There was nobody here.
Shaking my head for the twelfth time, I pulled the latch and stepped through the door.
"Sir, can you step onto the machine for me please?"
"You just threw on a lab coat..."
It was the same girl again!
"I'm qualified for the job, sir. I can provide an ARRT certificate if you want."
"You don't need to tell me your wo—"
"I have worked for seven years as a radiographer at the Fondheart City Hospital. Additionally, I also specialize in sonography and bone densitometry."
She puffed out her chest with pride and gave me one of those "dead-eyed" grins, the kind people often flashed at each other in a professional setting. Or maybe there was some joy in those eyes. The girl liked to do her work.
She probably only had the chance to do this once every three years, after all.
Whoever was unlucky enough to stumble in this building might as well be meeting the Prime Minister at this point.
"... I don't know what any of that means... but it sounds amazing."
"Can we now proceed with the scan, sir?"
"Is this one of those health checkup pranks that you give to people and later post it on the Internet?"
"I'm afraid this is not a prank, sir."
I wasn't complaining. A CT scan is a CT scan. It didn't matter how rich you were, you'd never turn down a free CT or MRI scan.
After having changed back into my own clothes, I was instructed to go back to the first room, where the security was already waiting for me in her uniform jacket.
"You'll be equipped with a conference recorder for the duration of the meeting so we can transcribe your discussion at a future time. Please stand still."
I was certain that I was about to meet the Prime Minister.
"What the hell do you want?" The man asked as he typed on his keyboard.
Suddenly I was reminded that this was a fast food company. Obviously, I knew now that wasn't the case. He was never working in customer service, but something else of a much larger scope.
He'd gone a long way.
And—although this was something I'd never said to him outright—I was proud of him, even if I didn't know a single thing about his work.
"It's impossible to get to you," I said, setting the note on the table in front of the young man slouching over the computer screen.
One quick glance at the text was enough to make him stop.
Two seconds later, he got back to typing again.
"Can't solve it," he said.
So he knew what it was.
He continued. "Don't expect anything with actual meaning from them. Why did you think I could solve these?"
"Margaret told me."
"Give up." He continued to read the lines of code on the screen as his fingers fluttered on the keys. "They're made-up symbols. Or maybe I'm just not good enough."
Two people in uniform, one of whom was her, suddenly came and stood behind me, "I'm sorry, sir, but you need to leave."
The receptionist.
"It's been twenty seconds!"
How were you going to transcribe anything from our conversation if you weren't going to let us talk?
I turned and limped back out towards the exit.
"Give me a ring if you're interested." I called out to him as I left.
The paper stayed on the desk.