2. The interview

The heavy glass doors hissed shut behind Mike as he stepped into the reception area of XYZ Corporates. A young woman in a sharp white top and black pencil skirt sat behind a minimalist desk, her eyes fixed on a laptop.

Mike cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. "Excuse me. I’m here for a scheduled interview with Alandra for the Frontend Developer position."

The receptionist swept a gaze over him—from his polished shoes to his neatly combed hair—before returning to her screen. "Name, please?"

"Michael Claus."

She tapped a few keys, likely pulling up Alandra’s hectic calendar. After a moment, she looked up. "I see you’re scheduled for 10:00 AM, but there’s a conflicting meeting. Alandra has a conference at 11:00."

Mike’s stomach did a nervous flip. "Does that mean I need to wait? Or reschedule?"

"Let me check with her," the receptionist said, sliding out from behind her desk.

Mike took a seat on a sleek bench to the left of the desk. Beside him was a private cabin, and though the walls looked thick, the sound of a heated argument bled through the door. A man’s voice, cold and dismissive, clashed with the desperate, trembling tone of a woman.

"But love, don’t you understand?" the woman pleaded. "I can’t do it alone. I need you by my side."

"I told you earlier, it’s not possible," the man snapped. "We can’t be together. This was a fling, nothing more. Don’t expect anything from me except a good time."

"I know... I was okay with that. But the situation has changed. I need you."

"Then you should have been more careful," the man’s voice turned icy. "I can’t do this. If you need financial help, let me know. Otherwise..."

"Everything isn't about money!"

A heavy sigh followed. "Get rid of it. and don't call me again."

The door swung open, and a man dressed casually in jeans and a sporty hoodie strode out, disappearing down the hallway without a backward glance. Moments later, a woman emerged. Her face was flushed deep red, her eyes glassy. She was tall—nearly six feet—wearing tight jeans and a form-fitting top that emphasized a model-like frame. She hurried away, leaving a trail of heavy silence in her wake.

Must be one of the models for the event side of the business, Mike thought, unsettled by the raw drama he’d just overheard.

"Michael?" The receptionist’s voice snapped him back to reality. "You can go in now. First cabin on the right. Alandra is waiting."

Mike stood, offered a quick "Thank you," and crossed his fingers. He knocked softly.

"Come in," a rich, honeyed voice called out.

He entered to find a woman in her late forties standing by a floor-to-ceiling window. She wore a sophisticated formal shirt dress, her back turned to him as she gazed out at the New York skyline. Without turning, she gestured toward the chair in front of her desk.

When she finally turned and sat, she crossed her legs with a practiced elegance. "It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mike replied gently. "It certainly is."

Alandra glanced at his CV for no more than a minute before tossing it back onto the desk. She leaned forward, her eyes piercing. "So, you’re the IT guy, huh?"

"I'm a frontend developer, ma'am," Mike corrected politely. "I specialize in site customization, debugging, and—"

"Whatever," Alandra interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "Can you fix a bug if a video isn't playing on the site?"

"Yes, ma'am. I can debug the player and fix—"

"Perfect," she cut him off again. "Can you add a feature where I can track video engagement? Likes, dislikes, comments, and real-time views?"

"Certainly. I can implement a voting and public poll framework based on—"

"Perfect. You’re hired."

Mike blinked, the words not quite registering. "What? Is... is the interview over?"

"Yes, it's over," Alandra said casually. "I have your CV; I don’t need the 'tell me about yourself' formalities. You’re exactly what I need." She picked up her desk phone and dialed an internal extension. "Pam? I have an IT guy here. Complete his onboarding and release the offer letter. Come to my office now."

Mike hesitated, his voice small. "Ma'am... regarding the salary?"

Alandra glared at him. "It’s a six-figure monthly salary. I assume that’s sufficient?"

Mike’s heart nearly stopped. It was double what he had hoped for. "Yes, ma'am. That is... that’s fine."

"And don't 'ma'am' me," she added, her tone softening slightly. "It’s Alandra."

"Thank you, Alandra."

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Pam, the HR manager. Alandra didn’t waste words. "Pam, take care of Michael. I want him onboarded by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Mike asked, surprised.

"We don’t have weeks to waste," Alandra replied coldly, already turning back toward her window.

Pam beckoned Mike to follow her to the HR department. The next hour was a whirlwind of paperwork. She scanned his ID, took a passport photo, and presented him with a stack of documents, including a non-disclosure agreement and a two-year contract.

"What’s the contract for?" Mike asked, pen poised over the paper.

"It states you can't leave the company for at least two years," Pam explained. "If you do, the company is entitled to take legal action."

Mike didn't hesitate. Who would want to leave a job that pays this well? He signed his name in a flourish. Within the hour, he was walking out of the building with a high-end offer letter in his bag and a shiny new ID badge clipped to his belt.

"Be here at ten sharp tomorrow," Pam called out as he left.

As Mike stepped back out onto Broadway, the city looked different. He had done it. He had the dream job, the massive salary, and a workplace filled with the elite of New York. But as he looked up at the towering glass of XYZ Corporates, he couldn't help but wonder about the cold conversation in the cabin and the frantic pace of his hiring.

The dream was starting—but at what cost?