The job interview

"Name?"

"Keanu."

"Last name?"

"Just Keanu."

"Like Cher?"

"…Yeah, but I don't sing."

The recruiter didn't smile.

He was sweating through his tie. The air conditioner was fake—just a cardboard box labeled A/C taped to the window.

"Why do you want to work here, Keanu?"

Keanu blinked. "I don't."

"Excuse me?"

"You called me."

The recruiter checked the papers in front of him. They were blank. Just printer paper soaked in coffee.

He looked up. "What would you say is your greatest weakness?"

"Impulse control."

"…Would you care to elaborate?"

"No."

A silence. A sharp, sharp silence.

Then the HR lady next door laughed. Loud.

Keanu looked through the glass.

She was on a Zoom call.

He saw a minion in the background.

Literal minion. Not the animated kind. The mythological kind. Horns, big claws, screaming Latin.

Keanu stood up.

"Is this job real?" he asked.

The recruiter smiled. First time. "Does it matter?"

Keanu reached into his coat.

Not for a résumé.

Not for a pen.

For a crowbar.

He swung it sideways, cracked the recruiter across the desk like it was Half-Life 3 and he was done waiting. The man hit the whiteboard. The fake A/C fell out the window with a sad clonk.

Keanu exhaled.

Grabbed a complimentary mint.

And walked out.

---

"Should've asked about remote work."