You Want Fries With That? by Prioleau Alexander

Author:Prioleau Alexander
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arcade
Published: 2018-07-24T00:00:00+00:00

In order to do my part within the assimilation process, today I applied to work for one of the big boxes: let’s call it MegaMart. Applying is, in reality, a vastly different experience than what you would expect. You probably envision just going into the store, going to Customer Service, and having the lady look you over and say, “Pulse? Check. Vertical? Check. Here’s your greeter vest.”

Hardly.

No, applying for a job at MegaMart is only a little less nerve-racking than trying to get a job with the National Security Agency.

Here’s why: there is no human contact.

How can that be? It’s true. No human being discussed my potential employment with me, so there were no opportunities to say, “Yes, sir. No, sir.” There was no way for them to know my pants weren’t around my knees, or that I didn’t have track marks on my arms, or tattoos on my face, or half a sewing kit stuck through my tongue. There was no way for me to, well, you know, bull——t my way through the door.

Instead, there was Little Brother.

Little Brother sat there like R2D2, glaring at me with his Press to Start screen saver glowing. He looked like one of those Wang Computer monstrosities from computer lab in the late ’70s.

With bold defiance, I sat down and fingered the keyboard. This was no ordinary keyboard, however. After the Apocalypse, it will be the roaches and this keyboard. This was one seriously titanium-encased, rubber-keyed, lubricatedby-syrup, smash-and-spill-resistant keyboard. A horse could type on this thing, and . . . okay, enough about the keyboard.

The application process started strangely, by making me press “I agree” to about nine pages of legal disclaimers that would take an attorney $3,800 in billable hours to decipher. I agreed to everything, page after page after page, and probably gave the MegaMart board my 401(k). Who knows? Next, Little Brother asked my name, address, SSN, the usual stuff. Then it demanded my employment history, along with my work supervisors. It got stumped on this one under my Marines employment history, and wouldn’t let me advance without a supervisor’s name. Finally, I entered First Name: “President” and Last Name: “Bush, Sr.” and it let me advance. Next, it asked if I wanted the application linked to every MegaMart within fifty miles. And then . . . it asked me to verify the information I’d given thus far, because I wouldn’t be able to make changes after this point.

Whatever. Verified.

Then . . . Wait a minute. No changes? What the . . . Why make changes? Unless . . . unless there’s some real heavy stuff coming down the pipe — stuff I might mess up on. And that’s when it occurred to me: my application is getting logged into some sort of MegaMart Motherboard, and all it would take was a few stupid answers for me to be barred from MegaMarts everywhere.

My hands got a little sweaty as I hit Next.

And so began my sixty-four-question quiz.

The quiz started easy, basically Ethics for Felons.

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