they did, but as I quickly discovered, they did have teeth. On the appointed day, the waning afternoon sun shone brightly, causing me excruciating pain; I almost turned back halfway through my drive to the office, but instead just gritted my teeth and used long-practiced mental discipline to block out the pain. After a short wait, they ushered me into the room where my geographic proclivity had been tested and sat me down at the round table, the four Hiring Committee members facing me from the other end of the table - four mortals staring at me, scrutinizing me, surely trying to peer deep into my being. I attempted to reassure myself that they would not suspect anything odd about me, that their scrutiny was based solely on the desire to hire the best possible applicants. Certainly this notion was easily intellectualized, but my kind has never liked close scrutiny, has never liked bright lights, though I knew the florescent lights that illuminated this room make everyone ghastly pale. That is why I prefer to wear tans and light browns, as well as muted pastels. These colors tend to offset the effect of my deathly pale flesh. The notion that vampires wear black is simply nothing but drivel.
The oldest member of the committee, a casually dressed, slender, bird-like woman of approximately 40 years, finally broke the silence. I could tell she was a leader, simply by her poise and bearing. "Thanks for coming, Al," she began. "We'll try to make this as painless as possible, but I will let you know, the Hiring Committee takes its responsibility very seriously. I'm Maureen Hellenbrand, general manager of Co-op Cab."
A female manager indeed! How American.
"This is Kern," she continued, pointing to her right. "He drives nights and is an on-the-road trainer."
"Howdy," Kern said, with the kind of grin the Americans might call "goofy." He was long-limbed and stocky with long, thin hair and a scraggly beard that seemed to be bushy just to be sure to cover his whole face, including what would be bare spots had his beard been properly trimmed.
"I'm Carey Antonelli," a rather grim, rather masculine, rather large woman said. "I also drive nights."
"And I'm Dale Simmons," said a neatly dressed man with a proper, closely cropped beard. "I work in the waybill office."
"Bean counter," Kern interjected, fondling the red star pinned to his blue denim jacket. Dale smiled. Maureen glared at Kern. Obviously, Dale must be the fussy, fastidious accounting type, unless this cooperative had diversified into agriculture.
Maureen launched the first salvo. "Please tell us, why do you want to be a cab driver?"
Let the games begin, I thought. "I need a job. I simply need to make money."
"But you were president of your own company," Carey replied quickly. "Why go from that to being a lowly cab driver?"
"My company went out of business. Again, I need a job. And I think I would enjoy the independent aspect of cab driving, so accustomed I am to being my own boss, as it were."
"Ah," Dale said, smiling slyly and stroking his beard, like a chess grandmaster whose opponent had unwittingly just left his queen unguarded. "But surely no cab driver is an island unto him or herself. We don't want free agents. We need people who work and play well with others. You would need to be able to work as a team player with your dispatcher, your fellow drivers and, of course, the staff in the waybill office."
"Of course," I replied, fearing that I had already represented myself in a detrimental manner. What was it they wanted to hear? "I have always enjoyed working with others, sharing ideas, having others share their ideas with me. All of us working together to solve whatever problems there are that require solution."
"How long do you plan on sticking around?" Kern asked gently.
"As you can determine from my employment application, I have just recently moved here inMadison . I find this town quite lovely. And, thus far, all my interactions with the people at Co-op Cab have been quite positive. Certainly, if hired, I think I would stay for a good amount of time."
The committee members nodded their heads, seemingly in unison. "Now, you know we're a cooperative," Maureen said. "Have you ever been employed at a worker-owned-and-operated cooperative?"
"And are you now or have you ever been a member of a cooperative?" Carey added.
Are you now or have you ever been in league with Satan? Is that not what the Grand Inquisitor had