《Temp Agent Wanted》 P1 Placement Do you have an imaginary friend? How would you feel about being used as a footrest? Can you use modern human technology without it blowing up? These are the questions on the placement test at the agency. Three Questions. That''s it. I turned th epage over to check but the other side was, wait what? The other side has the same questions. Okay, I''m seriously flipping. I know I''m sober, I haven''t smoked shit or had a drink since I was 17, so what the fuck is going on. I mean, just three questions on a placement test and they are pretty absurd questions too. Fuck, what did I walk into? No I do not have an imaginary friend. I''d feel pretty degraded and depending on how heavy the persons was and how long I was used as a footrestit might feel anywhere from mildly uncomfortable to extremely painful but if I was being paid an appropriate price and wasn''t being injured I suppose I''d be okay with it. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Yes, I can use modern technology without blowing it up. I can also blow it up. I suppose it really depends on whether or not it''s supposed to. I don''t think I can use a claymore mine without it blowing up and I don''t really know how to blow up a laptop but I could probably look that up if I need to. You tube has video''s for just about everything. I''m pretty sure I''m not going to work here. This place is too strange even for an unemployed 26 year old like me. Ah well, at least it wil make an interesting story to tell my mom when I get home. Dinner is going to be fun. "Mr. Carte is ready to see you now" I look around. No one''s there. "Ah, who said that?" I feel a myself being guided by my elbow to turn around and see an middle aged lady smiling awkwardly at me while gesturing me toward the door. The door. I came in through that door. This doesn''t make any sense. P2. Breathing is Healthy It''s very nice to meet you Mr. Gips, please have a seat while we go over the paperwork and get you ready for work. As I''m ushered into the room I nearly slip as I set my foot down on the suddenly smooth floor. Odd, the waiting room was carpeted but this room seems to be entirely made of green stone. Really really ornately carved stone etched in... is that gold? Man, this guy must be rich. Maybe I should reconsider the idea of working here. "Mr. Carte," I begin, but I''m quickly cut off as he glares at me, "I thought I told you to sit, Mr. Gips. Do so. Now." As I fall onto the glittering seat that was probably worth more than every member of my family has made since we got to this country, I clutch at my bag searching for my inhaler. Asthma''s a real bitch, let me tell you. "Sir, Mr. Cart," I try again, but once again I''m cut off; it seems he really doesn''t like my voice. "Call me Mel, son" he says with an easy smile. Woah. This guy is just all over the place. Anyway, "Well, Sir, I was just wondering, I mean, you haven''t told me what the job and I was hoping you could tell me a bit about it. Your website is pretty bare bones and really just says Temp Agency. Hiring. Applications must be completed on premises. 2440 Tier Court. What kind of jobs are they? Can I request certain job types? What''s the pay grade?" "Slow down son, let me get to that. It''s pretty much all covered in the paperwork but I like you; you didn''t faint earlier. Righto, well we are a temp agency and we cater to some rather private individuals who have need of, if I''m being completely honest, stupid expensive temporary but trustworthy Agents. That''s where I come in. I supply them with agents to do the jobs they need. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I''m not going to lie to you and claim there aren''t dangers and I can''t tell you the specifics of the job''s but I can assure you that the job''s will never be something you can''t handle and if you are ever harmed, well, you will be given care that is literally wildly beyond anything you''ve seen and the client and perpetrators responsible will seriously regret. Honestly, just wearing the badge is pretty much guaranteed immunity from even the most threatening folk. Think of us like the biggest scariest mafia to have ever existed, like the police if the police were each armed with nukes and had the vitality of roaches. As for the pay, well, you work on commission. Some of our clients like repeat agents when the need rises; some of them are slow to trust even under the most secure circumstances. I''m sure you understand. Now I''m sure this sounds like a lot to take in so I''ll just leave you with the assurance that you will be provided training prior to each job so you don''t need to worry about having the skill-set at the moment. Take your time to think it over, you have until you walk out the door." The moment he said that he vanished, leaving me alone in an office with paper weights that could buy my mom a house in the country and pay for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Well, Marty, I said to myself, this just got stranger. P3. Accounting for Error Deep breaths. Alright, let''s not be stupid about this. He told me to think it over and I''m pretty sure he was being literal. I look around the office for a pen and paper, unfortunately all I can find is the one on Mr. Carte''s desk and it seems to be made of stone with gold engravings, just like everything else in the office. I don''t know about you but that just seems too precious to risk touching. What if he walks in and thinks I was stealing it. I mean, he did claim to be the mafia. Correction, " the biggest scariest mafia to have ever existed." I think I''ll do this in my head. So things in favor of taking this job, lots of money, job training, the promise of repeat work (so he probably won''t kill me off after my first job). This looks okay, so far, I mean really need a job. Being unemployed is extremely depressing. Then again, there are a a few things that make me think this might not be the best idea. Working for the mafia is generally a bad idea, working for a man who''s measure of liking people is that they don''t faint in front of him is, quite frankly, terrifying. I mean, is that a normal occurrence? Do people just drop like flies whenever he speaks? I''m not sure what''s freakier, that it is his measuring stick or that I feel like it might be true. Let''s not forget his disappearing act. Or the way the moment I finished answering those three questions I was immediately brought in to see the Mr. Carte. They didn''t even give me a chance to put the pen down. Was there a camera behind me watching me to see when I finished? And what was with those questions anyway? Just what kind of job were they evaluating me for? Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. At least I don''t have to worry about the work being illegal. If it was, I doubt they''d draw up a contract like they have. Maybe I''m going to be working for the mafia boss''s legitimate business? I can deal with that. It actually sounds safer than some of the stuff I''ve done to help get my mom her meds. I think I''m in. Let''s just take a look at the paperwork and make sure I''m not getting screwed over.