The Casting Call Conundrum

I woke up early, brimming with confidence as I prepared for the big audition. My meticulous grooming made me feel ready to conquer the world. I hopped on the bus, but by the time I got off, my perfect appearance had devolved into something resembling a disaster. I had no choice but to freshen up in the nearest restroom. By the time I emerged, it was past eight.

The company was located in a sleek, eighteen-story office building in the city center. Following the address from the website, I took the elevator up, only to find a long queue snaking outside the door. To my surprise, all the applicants were women. I checked my phone again, confirming that the job listing hadn't specified a preference for gender. As I surveyed the sea of female faces, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer number of ambitious women nowadays.

The line was extensive, so I decided to cut ahead, brushing off the scornful looks from the women around me. Calm and collected, I mentally rehearsed what I would say during the interview. Suddenly, a woman behind me spoke up, clearly agitated. "Excuse me, can you not cut in front of me? Go to the back of the line."

Her words carried a certain weight. I turned to face her—a twenty-something with glasses and a fair complexion, clearly irritated. I glanced at the long line ahead and, deciding I had nothing to lose, responded, "If I move to the back, it just means I'll be cutting in front of the person behind you. She won't be too pleased either."

"Then you shouldn't cut in front of me. Go to the back!" There was something oddly captivating about her insistence. After some friendly back-and-forth, I managed to charm her into letting me stay where I was. Her name was Emily, a recent graduate from the South with a charmingly sweet demeanor.

We exchanged contact information and chatted until it was my turn. As I straightened my clothes and approached the door, a woman in professional attire stopped me. "Sir, may I help you?"

"I'm here for the audition. Isn't 'The Friday Phantom' hiring a host? I'm here for that," I replied, confused about why I was being stopped.

With a polite smile, she said, "Sorry, sir, but this is for recruitment for administrative positions. The audition for the host is in the room over there," pointing to another room.

I was reminded of a familiar scene from a classic comedy. Embarrassed, I stepped back, causing a ripple of laughter from the queue, particularly from Emily. Feeling humiliated, I quickly knocked on the door of the next room. When I heard a "Come in," I pushed the door open and saw a middle-aged man, slightly overweight, sipping tea.

I gathered my composure and said, "Hello, I'm here for the audition for the host position for 'The Friday Phantom.'"

"Have a seat!" The interviewer said with a friendly tone, then looked at me with a hint of surprise. "Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," I insisted, though I wasn't sure why he thought I was.

"Just relax. It's more of a casual chat, a two-way selection process," he explained.

I was puzzled. Did he really think I was nervous? "I'm not nervous," I repeated.

The interviewer's patience seemed to wear thin. "Do you dare tell me you're not nervous while sitting on the coffee table?"

I looked down in shock. Indeed, I had been perched awkwardly on the coffee table. I quickly jumped down, apologizing profusely. "Sorry, I didn't realize…"

After that awkward start, the atmosphere warmed up. We exchanged smiles, and the tension dissipated. The interviewer gestured to the sofa behind the coffee table. "Have a seat."

I handed over my resume and settled on the couch. The interviewer perused my resume and noted, "Graduated from Media University and worked at a newspaper—impressive. But do you have any TV hosting experience?"

I took out a pack of cigarettes I had bought that morning and offered him one, lighting it and bowing slightly. "I've hosted several programs during my time at school. We had a campus news segment, and I was the host. It's no problem."

"You have a good appearance and are young, so you're a good fit. But I'd like to know—how bold are you?" he inquired.

"I'm quite fearless. I've had my share of odd experiences—slept on a grave when I was three, helped someone summon spirits at five, and recently... well, let's just say I've faced the supernatural before," I boasted, hoping my bravado would impress him.

The interviewer seemed skeptical, scrutinizing me before sighing, "Well, no one else has applied, so why not give it a try? Just so you know, the trial period is one month. If you make it through, the salary will be six thousand, not including allowances."

I was astonished at how straightforward this was. Unlike the countless rounds of interviews and tests I had faced before, this seemed almost too easy. The interviewer, Mr. Zhao Xing, was my new boss overseeing the variety show department of the video website.

Without further ado, he led me to the office. The room, locked with an ominous number, 514, was spacious, with a large round table surrounded by office chairs. On the wall was a somewhat eerie, intricately designed logo with the title "The Friday Phantom" in a deliberately distorted font.

The office had several desks partitioned off, but it was eerily empty and dusty. Mr. Zhao patted me on the shoulder. "The production team is gone. It's up to you now to revitalize the show. Do you have the confidence?"

It felt like a daunting task. I had expected a full team, not just myself, to handle everything. While I was thinking this, I kept my concerns to myself. "Mr. Zhao, is it really just me here?"

"Honestly, yes. I invested heavily when launching the show. Horror and supernatural content has a market abroad and in Hong Kong and Taiwan, but it's restricted on mainstream TV here. However, on video platforms, it's acceptable. Our country has a rich ghost culture, and people are naturally curious," Mr. Zhao explained.

"The show had a good response initially, but things went awry during the recording at the infamous haunted house on Nanbin Road. The director went missing during filming, and the crew saw a ghostly figure. After that, everyone quit, terrified. We're down to our last chance with this open audition for a host," he continued.

Mr. Zhao's story was intriguing yet unsettling. The show seemed cursed, with no episodes completed due to continuous mishaps. This was why he was desperately hiring a new host.

"Young man, opportunities come with risks. Look at this situation; you have a unique chance to revive the show. You'll be the director, producer, and host all in one. It's a great opportunity for growth," Mr. Zhao said, his tone encouraging yet subtly manipulative.

I knew he was trying to sweeten the deal. In truth, this job felt like a potential disaster. But seeing as there were no other options, and I was an opportunist at heart, I agreed.

"I'm confident I can turn things around, but I need full control over everything—topics, content, locations, and personnel," I negotiated.

"That's fine. Given the circumstances, you'll have full authority," Mr. Zhao agreed.

However, I wasn't done yet. "I also need a pay increase of two thousand dollars because I'll need therapy. During the trial period, the salary will be six thousand. Afterward, it will increase to eight thousand, and I'll be the head of the department."

Mr. Zhao looked taken aback. "You're seizing the opportunity, aren't you?"

I sighed and said, "Opportunities and risks go hand in hand. If I don't negotiate now, do you really think I can succeed? Mr. Zhao, consider this a chance to revive a failing project. Trust me, and I'll turn this 'dead horse' into a winning steed."

Mr. Zhao saw the ambition in my eyes and, perhaps, a touch of audacity. After a moment of silence, he extended his hand. "Deal."

I shook his hand with a smile. "Let's draft a new contract."

"Sure, today is Monday. I want to see some results by Friday," Mr. Zhao said with a sly grin.

And with that, the stage was set for my new, unconventional role in the world of supernatural television.