*Gasp* More werewolf fiction?

[Happygun]

I swore I was over werewolves when I finished the Lycanthrope Club. Yet here I am writing a pseudo-sequel to the damn series. Feh.

In my defense, I believe my new approach on this matter is almost original. Here's what I've got so far...

Full Moon Delivery

The interview started like all others before it – the same nervous greeting, same weak handshake and offering of a glass of water which Amelia politely declined. A few jokes concerning the parking situation were exchanged as the interviewer sat and got settled, flipping through the documents she had brought with her into the tiny room. Amelia briefly caught a glimpse of her resume buried in the clutter; notes had been scribbled along the margins.

The interviewer began with a few typical background questions – inquiries about her education, experience, training and skills – all of which had already been answered by the resume. She then posed the same tiresome battery of hypothetical questions Amelia had answered time and time again.

“What do you consider your greatest shortcoming?”

“Describe yourself using five words.”

“How would you deal with a mistake you made on the job?”

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

Amelia had rehearsed the interview in her head and answered most of them promptly, pausing only when it seemed appropriate. It was slightly more difficult maintaining her smile during this segment, but she managed.

Things were going along swimmingly until the interviewer flipped over a piece of paper attached to Amelia’s resume. This page was different from all the others. It was yellow, for one thing, and was made of that thinner, cheaper type of paper used for carbon copies. A government seal could be viewed on the other side.

“Oh.”

It was a strange sensation. There were shades of depression and anger, but also a profound sense of relief. You spent the entire interview dreading this moment and when it finally arrived…well, at least you knew it couldn’t get any worse.

The interviewer hid her reaction well. The most obvious thing was the fact she paused. Her smile flickered for the briefest of second while she bit her lower lip. Her heartbeat quickened as well, but Amelia did fault her for it. There are some things you just can’t control. Amelia knew this better than most.

Amelia smiled weakly. She wasn’t going to get the job. She could see it on the woman’s face. Despite the fact she was massively overqualified, had a great list of references as well as two year’s experience, and only a few people had applied for the opening , she wasn’t going to get the job. She had gone through this rigmarole over a dozen times since college and she hadn’t landed a single one. A tiny voice in her mind – stubborn, insistent, and annoying logical – told her she was being foolish. Giving up only guaranteed you wouldn’t be accepted. There was always chance this could be the one.

Yeah, right.

Might as well let some frustration out, then.

“Is there something wrong?” asked the interviewer politely, peering up at her through her black-rimmed glasses.

Amelia blinked, trying her level best to ignore the cloying perfume the woman was wearing. The conditioner in her hair wasn’t helping either.

She sighed more dramatically than necessary and leaned back in her chair.

“Yes, I’m a werewolf,” she said.

A look of alarm overtook the interviewer’s face. She quickly collected herself, shuffling her papers.

“Oh, um, yes I see,” she said for lack of anything better to say.

“As you can see I’m registered and licensed with USDLA,” continued Amelia, sounding bored. “My record is clean – no incidents, no assaults, no illegal conversions – and I’ve taken all the voluntary predatory instinct management courses.”

“That’s, ah, that’s very good,” said the interviewer.

It was very good. You couldn’t ask for a better set of credentials from a werewolf. That didn’t escape the fact that she was, in fact, a werewolf.

“Sorry I didn’t send my papers in with my resume,” said Amelia, trying to sound contrite. “I’m not in any kind of trouble, am I?”

“Uh, no, no,” said the interviewer, flustered. “You told us eventually, that’s what’s important.”

“Oh, whew, glad to hear it” said Amelia cheerfully.

The interviewer smiled wanly and peered down at Amelia’s resume.

“So, uh, I see here you-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Amelia suddenly. “If I, uh, do get the position what are the health benefits? Specifically, I mean.”

The interviewer looked up. Her expression momentarily flickered between surprise, annoyance, and confusion. Then her training kicked in.

“Well, after the first 90 days we offer a full health, dental, and vision plan throu-”

The interviewer stopped mid-sentence as certain realities became painfully evident.

“Sorry,” apologized Amelia, coughing. “It’s just, well, I’m losing money when I receive health benefits, and I was wondering if your company had some kind of compensation program for...people like me.”

This really wasn’t fair at all. It was a perfectly legitimate question no one wanted to address – certainly not a mere human resources manager at a software development firm.

“Ah, I’m…really not the person you should be asking,” said the interviewer.

“Aren’t you with human resources,” inquired Amelia politely. “I don’t mean to be rude, but wouldn’t you know something like that?”

“Well, no,” said the interviewer, looking more uncomfortable by the second.

“OK,” said Amelia. “Could we…I dunno, check with one of your werewolf employees? I’m sure they could clear this up.”

“Sorry, I don’t think we can,” said the interviewer slowly

“You mean you don’t have any werewolf employees?”

There was an awkward pause.

“…Not at the present time, no,” she managed. She rallied. “But I believe the heath and dental plan could still be applied in cases of, um, harm caused by other…other werewolves or silver.”

“Oh, of course,” laughed Amelia.

It finally occurred to the embattled middle-manager what Amelia was doing. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any avenue of retaliation. Amelia had done nothing technically wrong.

“Now, regarding overtime,” continued Amelia in a businesslike manner. “Will you expect me to work evenings and weekends on occasion?”

“Well, yes, during final system testing and other crunch periods we do encourage employees to put in some extra hours,” replied the interviewer, relieved that the conversation had turned back to familiar ground.

“Ah, well, we might have a problem then,” said Amelia.

“Pardon?”

“Well…let me put it this way: three days out of the month I’m going to have trouble meeting the dress code.”

The interviewer was slow on the pick up. She looked at Amelia quizzically.

“Full moon,” added Amelia helpfully.

“Oh, OH!” exclaimed the interviewer with nervous laughter.

“This won’t be a problem, will it?”

“Um, n-no, I don’t think it will be,” said the interviewer, now thoroughly frazzled.

“Ah, so you have oversize keyboards, chairs that can accommodate tails, that sort of thing,” said Amelia pleasantly.

There was yet another awkward pause. The interviewer took a deep breath, looked up at Amelia and then back down at her papers.

“Let’s deal with that when and if we decide to go with you,” said the interviewer with less of her characteristic tact.

“Oh, sorry,” said Amelia in an apologetic voice.

“No, no, it’s a fair question,” said the interviewer. “Now, if we coul-”

“I was hoping my…condition wouldn’t impact my chances of getting the job,” said Amelia quietly, frowning. “I guess I was kind of naive.”

“Oh no, no no,” said the interviewer quickly, almost rising to her feet. “We do not discriminate on basis of race, gender, religion, political affiliation, or species as mandated by federal law. I assure you candidates will be judged solely on experience, education, background, and training.”

“So…you DO have oversize keyboards.”

This time the silence was agonizing. Although she knew it was going too far, Amelia gave the interviewer a bright smile.

“When…and if we hire we-…individuals afflicted with lycanthropy we will certainly supply any and all equipment necessary for them to perform their job,” replied the interviewer finally.

It was a mean little game. It surprised Amelia just how much bullshit one would take. The funny thing was, she reflected, the only reason she was getting away with it was because they had just met. You could call your best friend a bitch but you had to walk on eggshells with a stranger.

[llearch]

Where might one find this "The Lycanthrope Club" thing you mention? The slice posted here amuses me enough to suggest I might like your other work... ;-]

[Happygun]

http://www.orbital-art.net/dichotomystu ... ction.html

The Lycanthrope Club is the sequel to the first novella, the Woods, which I suggest you read first. Be warned that combined they are easily a novel in length (~80,000 words).

[llearch]

Ah. So, two or three days reading on the train, then. Cheers, I'll download them and put them on the laptop.

(FWIW, I churn through ZigZag: The Story in three or four days, and that's 450k+ words...)

[Kris@WLP]

Heh. Now that's what I like to see: what kind of stuff do werewolves have to put up with in the real world?

(You can't do any angsty whining about Gaia on the unemployment line, y'know...)

[llearch]

I knew I should have gone to bed, instead of starting reading.


Amusing stories, albeit not quite as amusing, to me, as the one above. Oh, well.

Certainly worth the time looking them up, though. ;-]

[Happygun]

[llearch]

[Happygun]