He says this with a wink, and the other two interviewees twitter. But I’ve done my homework and know he isn’t just kidding around; I read that he gave his Vice President an Island in the Mediterranean as a retirement gift. Only, the guy hadn’t wanted to retire and it was sort of a mandatory gift. I feel his north-sea bright eyes curiously flit over my face. His gaze rests somewhere around my lips. I feel heat rush to my cheeks.
“To offset the high level of commitment and intensity of the job,” continues Mr. King, “I aim to make the interview as brief and easy as possible. I’ve already run background checks and am impressed with your educational credentials, so this is really just about chemistry. I have only two questions for you. Let’s dive right in. Number one, it’s your first day as CEO of Skollz Corp. What would be the first change you’d make? Let’s start with Ms. Walker.”
Our heads all swivel to inspect Ms. Walker, the pretty Asian girl on the end. She blinks. “Um, I supposed I’d look at consolidating customer service centers to one of Skollz Corp’s overseas locations, probably Mumbai,” She says. “All of Skollz Corp’s competitors are doing it and I would want to make sure not to lose the edge in efficiency.”
Mr. King nods. “I can see you’ve read about our layoffs in Illinois. How about you, Ms. Peterson?”
The brunette next to me puts on a thousand watt smile and bats her eyelashes.
Ew.
“I wouldn’t change anything,” she says, her voice bouncy. “I’d spend the first day really getting to know people here and listening to what they have to say, their concerns. Their insights and experience would give me a good idea of the needs and next steps to take.”
“A team player, always good. And what about you, Ms. Clark? ” Mr. King turns his full attention on me with an energy and focus that make me feel naked.
I meet his gaze, ignoring my flushed cheeks. I could say something pithy about business. I know about the acquisition difficulties they are having with ElectricCub software, and have some opinions.
But those piercing blue eyes don’t seem like they can be outsmarted in their home territory. I shift tactics.
“I’d paint all the walls,” I say, looking around the room pointedly. “More color, more energy.”
He blinks at me. “Are you insinuating my tastes are bland Ms. Clark?”
My eyes narrow. I sense he’s toying with me, the way Rachel does. “I thought I was the CEO now, Mr. King. Change isn’t personal, it’s the future. I think maybe butter yellow for the offices and French Provincial blue for the hallways.”
I put on my best business smile. Now I can see the ghost of a smirk around his lips and know I read him right, but the other girls are staring at me like I have two heads.
“Touché, Miss Clark,” he glances down at the folder in front of him and writes something down. “Using my own company’s slogan against me. All right ladies, next question: it’s your last meal on death row, what are you having? Back to you, Ms. Walker.”
Wow, that’s kind of grim for corporate America. But then, I’d read that Mr. King is famous for unconventional interview questions and startling negotiation tactics.
Ms. Walker frowns, obviously thrown. “My last meal?”
This clearly wasn’t on the list of questions she’s practiced answering. She glances pleadingly at carrot-top but he’s checking his watch, and then she locks eyes with me briefly. I can see a glimmer of panic and I try to smile encouragingly.
“Can I just ask for clarification as to how this question relates to assessing my skill level and compatibility for Skollz Corp?” asks Walker.
Mr. King is a perfect gentleman, but it seems to me his eyes go a shade cooler as he scribbles something down. “I’m just hoping to get to know you a little better, Ms. Walker. Since my assistant and I will be spending a great deal of time together, it’s nice to discover a relatable human beneath the professional.”
“Oh,” she says, still frowning. “I see.” She pauses for a long second. “My favorite meal is Thanksgiving, so I’d have a Thanksgiving dinner. Tur-turkey.”
“A classic,” Mr. King says, smiling. Ms. Walker sighs, relieved. “How about you, Ms. Peterson?”
Peterson preens, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “My last meal, oooh,” she laughs. “That’s such a hard choice, I just love food.”
I glance at her stick arms and can’t help but raise my eyebrows. Liar. I feel Mr. King glance my way and force my features back to neutral.
“Well I’ve been a vegan for about nine years now,” Peterson prattles, “And it’s really changed my life and my relationship to food, so, it would have to be something vegan. Fear-free food. People don’t realize how many great vegan options there are, especially in New York City. I love them all, it’s hard to pick! If I had to have just one thing, I guess it would have to be a big vegan enchilada with guacamole and rice. And maybe some dolce de leche.”
“Wouldn’t dolce de leche be off limits?” Mr. King says, smiling. “You like breaking rules?” He’s toying with her, too. I feel less special.
She laughs a little too hard. “Sometimes, but I wouldn’t have to break any rules with vegan dolce de leche!” She wags a finger at him, playfully biting her lip.
Ew.
“Ah, made out of tofu or something?” Mr. King flashes a smile. He’s so pretty. I look away from his perfect teeth to Peterson’s uncomfortably flirtatious grin. “Okay. Interesting. And Miss Clark, your last meal of choice?”
I’m still staring at Peterson.
“Hm? Oh. Last meal.” Before I can think I hear myself say, “Definitely whiskey. I’d need it to be whiskey.”
Carrot-top starts to laugh but disguises it as a cough. Mr. King turns and looks at him pointedly before riveting me again with those burning-cold iceberg eyes of his, scratching his chin. I notice how strong and manicured his fingers are, then try to un-notice so that I can concentrate.
“Yes, whiskey and maybe pizza.” I assert. “New York pizza, obviously. But mostly just the whiskey if it’s my last meal, as I don’t want to feel anything that’s coming next. A whole bottle of whiskey, maybe a whole barrel, and go out with a bang!”
Mr. King stares at me for a long moment and I feel heat swirling in my belly. The corners of his mouth twitch. I can’t read him. Either he stifling a laugh like carrot-top or he is offended. I mentally curse myself for being so un-corporate. That was probably an inappropriate answer.