Master of None

Annabelle Schneider had never been particularly intelligent, never quite good at anything. She was the type of child that, when asked what her favorite color was, would reply with ‘cow' meaning black and white. It wasn’t that she was unintelligent, her mind just made connections in a different way than other children. Had she been born later when it was a more popular thing to drug your children, she would’ve been diagnosed with some form of attention deficit.  As the exact middle child of five, she had plenty of experience being bullied and guarded by older siblings, caring for and being annoyed by younger, playing sports, playing dolls, playing videogames, cooking, cleaning, and generally knowing how to do everything that goes on in an average American household.  She was passable at everything, but she had never found anything that she was actually good at.  She dabbled in everything, but never excelled at anything. This earned her the nickname ‘Jack’ in high school. As in ‘Jack of All Trades.’ You may wonder why anyone would care about Anabelle and her complete averageness. It is because, more often than not, the most unremarkable people have the most interesting lives.  * * * * * * * Annabelle sat almost perfectly still in the hard lobby seat, but her eyes darted about, taking in the building. The lobby was clean, modern, and generally unremarkable. It looked like every other corporate business lobby in the city. Uncomfortable furniture, an assortment of indoor plants, framed posters of products, and a wavy metal fountain.  The receptionist hung up the phone and motioned to Anabelle. “Whit… ah Mr. Scott will meet you in his office. Follow me.” Anabelle stood, trying to inconspicuously fix the wedgie that her too-tight pencil skirt caused. The receptionist must’ve seen that Anabelle’s walk was crooked because she asked if Anabelle needed to use the restroom. She thought about saying no but decided it would be the easiest way to fix her underwear before going into the interview.  “Uh, yes. That would be great if I could use the restroom.” “You can use the one in his office.” The receptionist swiped her card on a reader in the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The ride up was awkward, stopping a couple of times to let people on and off. The other employees chatted to each other, but Anabelle and the receptionist stayed silent. The two of them were alone again when they stepped off on the top floor.  In front of them were two beautifully decorated doors.  “The bathroom is in the back right corner,” the receptionist smiled and disappeared behind the elevator doors.  Anabelle pushed on the doors, they were heavier than they looked. She managed to wiggle her way through the doors when she pushed with nearly all her strength.  The office was as much of a typical CEO office as the lobby was a typical lobby. A huge desk with a glass surface sat near the southern, all window, wall. There were strange pieces of modern art and furniture spread about. The bathroom was right next to a blob of something silver that Anabelle guessed was a statue.  The bathroom light turned on automatically as she entered. She stifled a laugh when she saw the bathroom was also all modern, and similar to a bathroom in a home. It had a sink and toilet, but also a snazzy shower that dumped into a Jacuzzi tub. Instead of a mirror being hung above the sink, the entire wall was a mirror.  Anabelle fixed her underwear, shimmied her skirt back below her knees, adjusted the victory rolls in her hair, and rubbed some red lipstick off her teeth. Satisfied with her adjusted appearance, she left the bathroom and the light turned back off.  Glancing around the room again, Anabelle thought it strange that there was no computer in the office. She figured that would be a necessity for a software company. In the area next to a bathroom there was a large screen on the wall. Perhaps that was used as a computer screen.  Facing the screen was a sectional sofa with a peculiar coffee table. The table was a giant video game controller. Anabelle walked closer to inspect it. It was a controller for a console she was familiar with, one she and her siblings had played with as children.  She leaned over the table and was about to press one of the buttons when a man’s voice came from the opposite side of the room.  “It’s functional if that’s what you’re wondering.” Anabelle turned and saw him. She recognized Whitaker Scott from the many photos of him that circulated the media. He was taller than he seemed in his photos with average looks verging on being handsome. He was slipping on a well-cut suit jacket as he spoke.  Anabelle smiled and straightened. “Interesting piece to have in your office. Why have it?” “Why not?” He shrugged, “Don’t you think it’s cool?” “Well, yeah, but I mean why here at work? Why not have one at home?” He walked to the desk and motioned for Anabelle to follow.  “I do have one at home. But I spend so much time here and I like it so much I thought I would put one here as well.” He waved for her to sit at one side of the desk as he sat at the other. He waved his hand over the desk and it lit up. The whole desk was a computer touch screen. He pulled up some files that Anabelle recognized as her resume and letters of recommendation.  Without thinking, she blurted, “So you actually do work here?” Whitaker raised an eyebrow.  “Yes… despite what the media may say, I actually do work for this company, not the other way around.” Anabelle had never heard that before. It seemed to her that the media was always lauding Mr. Scott for his innovation, his generosity, and his ability to not only follow in his father’s footsteps but also expand his father’s vision. “That’s not… I didn’t mean that. I meant that this office doesn’t seem conducive to running a company.” He gazed around the room then focused back on her.  “I actually agree with you. It’s not a very useful room. The worst is this desk. It’s inconvenient, verging on useless. My father put it in as a novelty piece, but you can barely see from the glare of the overhead lights, the touchscreen is delayed, and the keyboard is awkwardly spaced.” He frowned down at the desk like a disappointed parent. “So novelty pieces are only good if they have functionality,” Anabelle stated. “In this instance, yes. I have to do all the real work on my computer in the other room,” he motioned in the direction he just came from.  “Why don’t you just get a new desk and move the computer out here?” “Apparently people don’t like being glanced at over a large computer screen,” he shrugged. “But you’re glancing at them over a large computer screen anyway.” “But it… I… Aren’t we supposed to be having a hiring interview?” He stumbled over his words, apparently stumped by the question. Anabelle’s face got hot. She hoped Whitaker couldn’t see the blush. He didn’t seem to as he focused on her resume.  “You don’t have as much experience as I would like. But your references are glowing.” He said ‘glowing’ with a sarcastic tone so Anabelle was unsure if this was good or bad. Her stomach began to drop. She had the feeling this interview would end in disaster.  Whitaker continued to stare down at her references. His face grew ponderous and his eyes drifted up to her face. “Do you play video games, Missus, ah, Miss Schneider?” They stared across the computer/desk at each other in almost a full minute of awkward silence.   “I… um, yes.” “Let’s go play.” He stood and crossed the room to the couch and controller table. Anabelle stayed in her uncomfortable desk chair.  Whitaker motioned for her to sit by him on the couch. She did. He handed her a normal-sized game controller.  “If you beat me, you get the job.” She stared at him, stone-faced. “Are you serious?” He smirked and nodded. “I’m taking the table, which is a handicap, and I’ll even let you pick the game.” The screen lit and filled with lists of old video games. She scrolled through them with growing horror. Most of the games she had never even heard of. With each game that flashed by; she inched closer and closer to a panic attack. Then she saw it: Excitebike. The game she always won, even against her siblings and all their crazy videogame loving, neckbeard friends. This she knew, she could not lose.