In the office, you sit before your interviewer, some 30-something yuppie manager with a receding hairline. He wants to know some things about you – you answer those questions. He gives you more questions. He reviews your social media, your Twitter and Facebook. The Twitter is okay – there are a couple anti-government posts that have been flagged by the review software: “Student loan debt is fucking insane!!! I want to blow my fucking brains out every month – my statement is only getting higher!” You blush, shrug. “Just shouting into the void,” you say. The interviewer looks at you, then strokes his clipboard with his pen.
Somewhere, a libertarian says, “If you don’t like it, go somewhere else. No one is forcing you to use social media. You don’t have to be on here and if your speech doesn’t conform to the terms and conditions, too bad! Okay? You signed up, you agreed, and these companies are just trying to protect their brand. It’s good for business, it’s good for the economy…”
Somewhere, someone tries to put up a poster on a crowded street corner and is immediately arrested for vandalizing public property.
Somewhere, you are still in the SharkTek office.
The software they use to rate candidates tallies up the interviewer’s inputs and gives you a slightly above-average karma rating. That’s better than what most people get; you’re officially passed the first stage. Next come the homework questions; “What values do you like most at SharkTek?” You say, “Integrity.” He says, “Why?” You go into a rehearsed spiel you prepared for the night before. You feel good about it; he’s nodding to himself. He strokes the clipboard again. “Where do you see yourself long term?” You say, “SharkTek.” He nods, strokes the clipboard. “Favorite color?” You say, “Blue.” He nods. “Excuse me for a moment.” He leaves the room.
There’s a breakroom adjacent to the interview room replete with Playstation consoles from 25 years ago and vending machines and potted, plastic plants and colored tile flooring and window displays of tropical environments and a jungle gym and a ballpit and TeeVee. The interviewer enters the break room, comes in behind a couch. Two coworkers are watching old episodes of Family Guy during the morning’s first 25 minute break. President Hitler (very unpopular name, he refused to change it, still won somehow) instituted the staPost too long. Click here to view the full text.