A Desk Job - Chapter 1, Part 5
Obviously Fenton did not hear what he thought he’d just heard. Though, try as he might, he could not come up with any other phrase that he might have misheard.
“I… beg your pardon?” He gulped. Unconsciously he cupped his hands in front of his crotch as though to cover himself.
“Your clothes. Take them off.” The words were slow and deliberately spoken. The man’s face betrayed no emotion. He spoke matter-of-factually, as though talking to a young child.
Fenton took a step away, edging towards the door. “I think there has been some kind of mistake. I was looking … er … applying for the front desk position.”
“Indeed. And a front desk needs to meet certain physical standards.”
“I don’t understand.” Another step towards the door.
“Obviously. You are the desk. Furniture. In return, $60,000 a year, benefits, insurance, vacation, and other perks. Our offices are private and I have … certain proclivities that I enjoy.”
A knot formed in Fenton’s throat. This was nonsense! Who’d ever heard of a person as furniture? Was this really a design office or some kind of sick sex parlor?
The man smiled as Fenton’s obvious confusion played out across his face.
“I … there … this is not what I thought I was interviewing for. I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.”
The youth turned and fled the building, his legs shaking and barely able to carry him home.