Wedding Games

The CW Centre

The questionnaires that I’m required to fill out that afternoon turn out to be just as inappropriately personal as the interview itself. I’m asked a hundred questions about my personality, family life, childhood, values and beliefs, past health issues, hobbies and interests. 

One of the quizzes even seems to be a thinly veiled IQ test, but overall it seems more like the Winsworth Interactive Company is trying to gauge what sort of person I am and how I’d fit into the organisation on a personal level. That sort of stuff is obviously important for any role, but they really cross the line with questions like “Have your parents or grandparents suffered from any of the following: Alzheimers’s, Autism, Cancer, Congenital adrenal hyperplasia…” and “Did you vote Republican or Democrat in the last election?”

And even stranger, there’s not a single question relevant to the job itself. Nothing about my competence as a concept artist, my preferred styles and artistic media, my art school qualifications and areas of expertise.

I feel almost like I’m applying for an entirely different position.

Despite my reservations, I fill out the questionnaires in as much detail as possible, trying to find a good balance between being honest and telling them what I think they want to hear.

I seem to have succeeded in finding that perfect balance, because the very next morning I get an email from Annemie Beenhouwer requesting that I come in for a second interview. Strangely enough, the second interview isn’t at the Winsworth Interactive Company’s offices - but rather, at an upmarket “holistic centre” on the Upper East Side.

Even now, as I step out onto the platform at 72nd Street subway station, I feel an ominous chill of dread trickle down my spine. This whole situation has been somehow “off” from the start.

Although every fibre of my being is screaming at me to cut my losses and run away from this dodgy situation, I know that I’m too far down the rabbit hole, and it’s definitely too late to turn back now.

The only way through, is forward.

Besides - I know that probably just being paranoid. The Winsworth Interactive Company is an internationally-acclaimed, well-respected multinational corporation - not some shady back alley business. 

I make my way through the crowd of commuters, up onto 2nd Avenue, bustling with the vibrant humm of the city building up to the festive season. The Christmas decorations here on Manhattan’s East Side are much nicer than those in my neighbourhood of Brooklyn.

The graceful Art Deco style homes and shops have wreaths of holly and pine hanging on their front doors, and the lamp posts along every street are adorned with red velvet bows and strings of golden fairy lights that twinkle in the frosty winter morning.

There was a light dusting of snow overnight, and everything has been transformed into a magical winter wonderland, the smell of coffee and freshly baked breakfast bagels drifting on the air. The snow is still falling even as I walk, but it’s just a light, pleasant drift.

After a few minutes’ walk, I find myself standing before the facade of a beautiful old building, an elegant brownstone with festively-decorated topiaries on the tiny balconies.

Above the dark oak-wood front door, a golden plaque reads “THE CW CENTRE.”

This is the place, alright. 

I wasn’t told who exactly I’ll be meeting here - only that the interview starts at eight thirty and should take approximately an hour.

I walk in through the front door, relishing the blast of warm air from the roaring fire in the entrance lobby. I hang my heavy winter coat and woolen beanie on the coat rack and dust a light powdering of snow off my blazer’s cuffs, praying that my interview doesn’t turn out to be with Annemie Beenhouwer again.

I took a small risk wearing the exact same black suit to both interviews, but for all she knows, I have two of them. 

 There’s a small sign pointing towards reception, so I go that way. I also see signs for “Sauna and Steam Rooms”, “Psychologist’s Offices”, “Wellbeing Room”, “Weight Loss Clinic”, “Cosmetic Surgery Offices” and more.

Weird place for a gaming company interview.

The receptionist smiles warmly as I approach.

“I’m Valerie Greene,” I say, embarrassed about how dumb what I’m about to tell her will sound. “I have an eight thirty appointment in this building, but I’m not actually sure who exactly it’s with. I was just told to come here.”

The receptionist nods, as if this is entirely normal and expected, then points down the corridor.

“That’s alright Miss. Greene,” she says. “Dr. Ramsurrun will see you in room twelve. Third door on your left. He’s ready for you now, so just walk right on in.”

Doctor… what?

“Ok… thanks…” I murmur, making my way down the corridor.  

Maybe they’re a PhD - a Doctor of Fine Arts, or Computer Science. Not a medical doctor, surely.

But the moment I reach room twelve, I realise that this doctor is the latter sort. The sign on his slightly ajar door reads “Dr. Ashwanee D. Ramsurrun, MD, FACP.”

I knock once then walk inside.

Dr. Ramsurrun is an older man, possibly in his sixties, with greying hair and sparkling brown, inquisitive eyes.

“Miss Greene!” He says cheerily, standing to shake my hand before motioning for me to sit down in a white leather chair opposite his mahogany desk. “It’s lovely to meet you. You must be very special to have made it to this point. Congratulations.” 

“Uh… thanks?” I say with trepidation, unsure whether it would be rude for me to ask him off the bat why on earth Winsworth Interactive Company set up a doctor’s appointment for me.

“Now, your doctor… Dr. Ashburton, I believe… has kindly sent us through all of your medical records and those of your immediate family, so we won’t need to go into a detailed interview on that front,” he says with a bright smile. “But as your last comprehensive medical checkup was over three years ago, we’ll be performing one today. It should take no longer than thirty minutes or so. Any questions?”

Yes. A million of them. 

“No,” I lie, forcing myself to keep the big picture in mind. I desperately need this job, so the last thing I can afford right now is to blow this chance. 

“Excellent,” he says. “Let us begin.”