I glanced at the clock.
Fifteen minutes… Fifteen minutes, and he still was not here.
Admittedly, not the strongest beginning to a potential working relationship when the candidate arrived fifteen minutes late to the interview.
I leaned back in my chair with a quiet sigh.
Fine. I could wait a little longer.
Things happened. Traffic. Oversleeping.
I waited a while longer, though my patience had begun to wear thin.
Another glance at the clock.
Twenty minutes.
Then twenty-five.
Nothing.
That finally exhausted what remained of my patience, so I picked up my phone and dialled his number.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
Only around the sixth ring, perhaps even later, did somebody finally answer. His voice sounded even higher than before, strained tightly with panic.
"H-hello?"
"Where are you?" I asked sharply.
"Oh, Mister Moncler, I, I, I'm terribly sorry. I'm downstairs at reception, but they won't let me in."
"What do you mean?"
"They said there isn't any interview scheduled here. That it must be impossible."
What the hell?
I clearly remembered giving the order to let him in. What sort of idiotic power trip was happening downstairs?
"Stay where you are," I said as I rose from my chair. "I'm coming down."
I ended the call and stepped out of my office, throwing the door open so violently that my secretary jumped.
"Why the hell did you not inform me that my candidate was downstairs waiting?"
He blinked at me in confusion. "Candidate, sir? I'm afraid I don't understand what you..."
"Stop acting. I specifically warned you that a candidate would be arriving today," I interrupted him. "I have been sitting in my office waiting for over twenty minutes only to discover he is downstairs being denied entry because apparently there is no interview scheduled."
"Oh. You mean him." His expression shifted into something uncertain. "Well... I assumed there had been some mistake."
"Mistake?" I repeated coldly. "What exactly are you talking about?"
"Well, the file you sent over..." He cleared his throat. "The candidate appeared suspicious, so I assumed perhaps you had forwarded it accidentally."
"Suspicious?" I took a slow step closer. "Why precisely would he seem suspicious to you?"
Another hesitation.
"Because he's a hybrid?" I asked flatly.
Silence.
Then, with visible discomfort, he muttered, "Sir, our company does have standards."
I stepped closer.
"Standards?" I repeated quietly. "And what exactly are these standards?"
He swallowed.
"Well... company policy has always been this way. We cannot hire..."
"Pack your things. Your work here is finished." I cut him off, realising that the conversation was pointless.
Without waiting for his reaction, I headed for the lift. After pressing the button, I thought that this bloody thing would probably take forever to arrive.
To hell with it.
I changed direction and went straight for the stairs instead.
As soon as I went down into the hall, I immediately heard a noise. It sounded like a bizarre mixture of an argument, frightened whispering, and the murmur of people gathering specifically to watch the situation unfold.
And right in the middle of all that chaos stood a tiny man.
He looked much smaller than I had imagined, especially compared to the two burly security guards blocking his path.
Little grey ears were sticking out from the top of his head, soft-looking against his dark hair, while long white whiskers trembled so violently that it became obvious how terrified he was. He clutched his briefcase tightly to his chest. It looked enormous against his frame.
The moment he noticed me, his anxious little face lit up with hope.
"Oh, sir!" he nearly squeaked, waving frantically at me with one hand while barely managing to hold onto his briefcase with the other. "These, I told you, these men..." He pointed nervously towards the guards. "They wouldn't let me through."
I looked coldly at the security guards.
"Is there some particular reason," I asked, "why you are preventing a man I personally invited from entering?"
"Sir," one of the guards began awkwardly.
"Move aside." I cut him off before he could continue.
They exchanged uncertain glances before reluctantly stepping away from the entrance.
"I'm terribly sorry," James rushed out. "Please forgive me for being late. They kept saying I..." He stumbled helplessly over his words again, visibly shaken.
"It's fine," I said more calmly. "You have done nothing wrong." Then I glanced towards the lifts. "Come with me."
"Thank you, sir. I'm really very grateful you came downstairs yourself," James mumbled while we rode the lift upwards.
I glanced towards him.
Without the huge guards standing behind him, he no longer looked so tiny, even though he barely reached my chest.
"That was more your achievement than mine," I replied. "You didn't let our security frighten you into leaving. You could easily have decided yesterday's call was some joke and that the interview never existed in the first place."
He smiled nervously. "Honestly… the thought did cross my mind." His whiskers twitched faintly. "But you never find out what could happen if you just run away the moment something scares you."
I laughed quietly. "Yes. Fair point."
The lift doors opened, and directly in front of us stood my secretary, who still had not gathered his belongings.
Irritation surged through me again.
"Sir, I..." he began weakly.
"I told you to pack your things. Now."
Those words came out too sharply, and I could feel James flinch beside me. He probably thought I was a monstrous employer.
"By the time I leave my office again," I continued coldly, "you had better not be here."
My now-former secretary gave a stiff nod. I doubted I would ever see him again.