After spending a highly unsuccessful, ninety-degree afternoon hunting for a part time job, I felt tired, depressed, and somewhat saddened. But then, in the midst of my despair, I glanced upward and noticed a card shop with a “help wanted” sign in the window. Ecstatic, I rushed in and greeted the sales clerk with one of those painfully fake, “just happy to be on the same planet with a person like you,” smiles and inquired about the position.
“Excuse me sir, (I actually called the sixteen year-old, zit-faced monstrosity, sir) I’m here about the job.”
“What job?” he asked.
“You know, the job here…this job, the job with the sign thing in the window.”
“Oh… ah, that job?”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“Of course I’m sure, I’ve been working here for almost ah…well…almost a week.”
“So you have it?”
“No, what do you mean no? Has the position been filled?”
“You know, the position here…this position, the position with the sign thing in the window.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me?”
“Really, cause I’m just afraid. Look let’s do this again. I’m here about the job you’re advertising.”
“Quiet! Don’t start thinking again, something might explode. I’m talking about the job you’re advertising with that ‘help wanted’ sign in the window.”
“Oh, now I’ve got you!”
“Great! So can I have it?”
“There is no job. We just sell those signs.”
Then I just cursed a lot and walked home.
Looking for more fast fiction? Check out Two Minutes Too Late