Foxx Inc Ch. 01 - The Interview

Thomas Edison reportedly said that the harder he worked the luckier he was. In my case I had worked pretty stinking hard as an enlisted member of the nuclear submarine Navy for the previous six years, so if you side with Edison I must have accumulated a decent amount of luck in my karma account. No matter how events came together, I was very lucky to be in just the right place at the right time. You probably won't believe it, and truth be told, on some days I don't believe it either. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let me start at the beginning.

Or maybe not quite the beginning. As I mentioned, I'd been in the Navy for six years starting right after high school. After graduation a lot of my friends had gone off to college, but I wasn't interested in joining them. I wanted to do something at once, not four years or so later. I joined the Navy, was picked up for nuclear power and asked for submarines (long story for another time). Working on subs was tough, yet rewarding at the same time. And it paid fairly nicely for a 19 to 24 year old. Many of the younger enlisted, read that as non-lifers, were interested in using their GI bill benefits to go to college when their enlistment was complete. And when I left the Navy a mere six weeks ago, that had been my plan as well. I'd saved a fair amount of money, and combined with the GI bill I was able to comfortably attend most any college.

Now, relaxing on a couch in my parent's living room, when I wasn't surrounded by people looking forward to college, I found the idea was no longer appealing. It always seemed to me that people felt college was a natural progression, and to do otherwise was somehow not living up to one's potential. Problem was, after my years in the Navy I knew that wasn't the case. Sure, college might open some doors, but I had every bit as much, if not more respect for the senior enlisted in the Navy as I did the officers. Very different jobs requiring different skill sets. One ingredient of success on the ship was mutual respect for those different skill sets. Relaxing off duty with Sailors from other ships told me such mutual respect was not always a given. I'd been fortunate.

By the time I left the Navy I knew I was capable, well trained, reliable, and eager to work hard. The Navy had spent a lot of money training me how to operate and maintain equipment as well to train and lead people. Not only was I good at all those things, I enjoyed them immensely. It's a very rewarding feeling when you use your own skills to take something from not working, to working. A friend of mine, a fairly senior Navy electrician, enjoyed replacing burnt out light bulbs even though such things were typically reserved for more junior people. "It's instant job satisfaction," he'd said.

I knew my parents were happy to have me around, and at the same time I knew they didn't want me to become a permanent fixture. It was only nine in the morning, and I resolved right then that today was the day to seriously start the job search. After grabbing a shower and a cup of coffee, I sat down with my laptop and began. There were lots of openings that appealed to me, or rather a lot of jobs I knew I could do. HVAC technicians and mechanics of all kinds appeared to be in particular demand, and the pay didn't look too bad. Besides, I was in a pretty enviable position; I could easily quit after a short time if it didn't work out.

After a brief moment of reflection I decided my qualifications meant I should avail myself of a headhunter, or at least some high end placement site. I did so, and was startled to get a text message two hours later. It was a link, so I forwarded it to my email and called it up. Oddly, it wasn't from one of the services I had contacted. "Provider of Building Services. Responsible for all building systems maintenance and services for staff on site. M-F, 9-5, $95K/year. If interested please send your interview availability to FoxxIncJobs@FoxxInc.com" From the tone it seemed they had my resume and knew who they were talking to. Intrigued, I sent a note to the address stating I was available for an interview at their convenience.

It was perhaps another hour later when a reply came in from the same address: "Please confirm your availability for an interview starting at 1600 at 8472 Saddlebrook Road." I checked the address, and although I did not want to appear desperate, I replied at once that I could make that time. It seemed a bit odd to be having a job interview that late on a Friday, and it made me wonder what kind of work-life balance they might have as part of their culture. And then I laughed at myself--as if work-life balance was something I was acquainted with from subs...

Still, this observation was added to my mental list of hypothetical questions to be posed to my would-be employer.

The use of 24 hour time got my attention as well, as in my admittedly limited experience most people in the US did not use it. Checking the time, I had about two hours before I needed to leave. Plenty of time to shave, iron a shirt and get my butt across town. Minor preparations complete, I had a little time to do some research on Foxx Inc., and there wasn't much there. Nothing on the usual job review sites, and the corporate splash page simply stated it was a legal firm serving government and private clients, able to support work at all classification levels. Well, I'd learn more when I got there.

Arriving at the designated place at 1545, the parking lot in front of the building was empty. The visitor parking spots were very close to the door, which was nice given how hot it was that afternoon. The building itself was an attractive, if plain, multi-story building made of the typical glass, steel and concrete. It was also unmarked aside from the large stylistic numbers identifying the building as '8472'. Grabbing my jacket I got out of the car and went to the large glass doors.

The lobby was large, with comfortable looking chairs of white leather arranged around small metal and glass tables. A long reception desk opposite the entry doors appeared to be of solid wood and was decorated with a number of glass sculptures. Glancing around I noted the presence of several CCTV cameras, their red status lights blinking every few seconds to let you know they were awake, or at least powered. Aside from the front doors there were no other obvious exits from the room. Taking a seat I looked over the walls a bit more closely and noticed there were a couple of places that might be seams that could hide hinges on the reverse.

It wasn't more than two or three minutes when I heard a distinct 'click' from the direction of the front doors. Curious, I checked them and found they were now locked. It was then I heard another click behind me, and turning I watched as one of the well hidden doors opened and a woman strode through. Black haired, tall and quite attractive, she was wearing a black skirt, black heels, a white blouse and a dark blue jacket. She smiled as she closed the distance to me, extending a hand. "Mr. Jeffries, I presume?"

Returning the smile and the handshake, I said, "Thomas, please."

She let go of my hand and regarded me with a puzzled look, "Mr. Jeffries, we've only just been introduced."

"Not exactly," I said, "I still don't know your name."

The look she gave me was somewhere between confusion and irritation. But in an instant her face snapped right back to pleasant as if she'd rolled back time. She extended her hand again, "Mr. Jeffries, I presume?"

Again returning the handshake I replied, "Yes, and you are?"

She let go of my hand, "Ms. Olson. I'm pleased you could come in on such short notice. If you would follow me?"

With this she turned and strode toward the door I now knew to be there. A sign next to the door, which appeared to be nothing more than a label plate, turned out to be a card reader, which she used to open the door. On the other side of the door a small well lit room had a standard set of boxes used to hold mobile phones. I was already taking my phone and keys out of my pocket when she gestured toward the boxes and asked me to secure any electronics. Completing this task she led me to something that looked like an airport TSA portal. She indicated I should walk through it, and she watched as I did. It didn't beep or anything and she led me to another door, which she again opened with a key card, though this time she added a PIN, her finger movements concealed by a cover plate.

Through this second door we entered a large open area. Two elevators were visible to the right, again with things I now knew to be card readers. To the left was a featureless wall with one door. She led me to this door and entered with her card. This room was a rather large office, tastefully decorated with wooden furniture, some IT equipment, plants, a few leather chairs and a small refrigerator. There was also another door on a wall adjacent to the one we had entered through. She indicated a chair in front of the large desk. "Would you like a bottle of water Mr. Jeffries?" Her continued formality was curious, and I simply said yes. She withdrew two bottles of water from the fridge and handed me one before sitting down herself.

"Mr. Jeffries, again, thank you for coming in this afternoon," she said as she unscrewed the lid on her bottle.

"I was available, so there wasn't much of a reason to wait," I said before taking a pull on my own bottle.

"Well, shall we get down to business then?" she said. I nodded and she pulled a folder from inside the desk. "Six years in the Navy, straight out of high school. Trained mechanic, standard awards for good conduct, but also three Navy Achievement Medals. Current security clearance, and living with your parents having just been discharged several weeks ago." The whole time she had been talking she had been looking directly at me. Which was good in a way because it kept me from trying to ogle her, and I figured that was not a great way to start with an HR rep, if that's who she was. The funny thing about her little speech was that the medals were not listed in anything I thought she might have been able to access while researching me. Wait, they researched -me-?.

I realized she had asked me a question. "I'm sorry Ms. Olson, could you repeat that?"

Her face was impassive. "Did you enjoy your time in the Navy?"

"I'm not sure I'd say enjoy. It was often hard work, but also rewarding. I got to see some of the world and learn some useful things. Or at least, I hope you will find my skills useful."

She nodded, "Your professional certifications are quite in line with what we need in terms of taking care of the property, yes. Tell me, did you enjoy Singapore or Thailand more?"

At this point it was clear she was trying to keep me off balance by showing what she knew about me. "Um, Ms. Olson, what kind of work does Foxx Inc do?"

She unbuttoned the front of her jacket and sat back in the chair, taking another drink of water. As her jacket parted I could not help but notice her top was almost shear, and she was not wearing a bra. She caught my glimpse, but smiled as she answered, "We are primarily a legal firm. We consult on a variety of subjects to varied clientele. Our work regularly connects to the government, to include the DoD and several other agencies with whom you might not be as familiar."

"And so it would be normal to run a background check on any applicants."

She smiled and looked down at the desk, selecting a piece of paper from the file. "Yes, but I must tell you it is less mysterious than you might think. To begin with your electronic fingerprints are everywhere, and the only thing that provides privacy is people with access not taking an interest. In applying, we became interested." I nodded, only sort of following her. She gave me a soft look, then said, "Tell me, before you decided to end your time with the Navy, you applied for a special projects position, did you not?"

I nodded, though once again how she knew this was beyond me. "That application triggered a number of automatic events that were completed even before they would have started an SSBI." Seeing my confusion she added, "A background investigation."

"I see."

"You have applied for a job at a firm that does highly sensitive work for the government, amongst others. Further, I am meeting you alone in this building in the late afternoon. The least you should expect is that we have done our homework."

Sure, it all made sense. And nonetheless, I was taken aback by the results of said homework--especially in such a short time frame.

She continued, "That homework indicates you have all the mechanical and supervisory skills necessary to keep our facility humming along, and your clearance is certainly a plus in that you will likely be able to access most parts of the building unescorted," she said. "And," she added with a smirk, "there was time to acquire some more, shall we say, personal information."

I swallowed, not really knowing what she meant by that last bit. Trying to regain my composure, I nodded and tried to move closer to show my interest. "Is this the only building I'll be maintaining?"

She nodded in reply, "Yes, that is correct. Electrical, mechanical, structural, all your responsibility. As you saw, the position involves a typical work schedule, though a number of the employees keep less standard hours, especially the partners."

"Could I ask a question?" She nodded, and I continued, "Why did the previous person leave the job?"

"Hmmm," she murmured, then grinned, "Let's say he grew tired."

"Of the job?"

"I thought you were nuclear trained Mr. Jeffries? That is an assumption, not an observation or conclusion based on indications." That caused me to sit back. If they had only been aware of me for a few hours, that was pretty specific criticism for someone of my particular background. And a damned insightful criticism at that. But if she was bothered, it didn't show. Instead, she grinned as she held my gaze. "I believe my statement to be accurate regarding the previous PBS." She continued, "I assume the proposed compensation is adequate?" I nodded again. "Very well. In addition you will earn twenty-eight days off per year, usable at your leisure from day one. We have a full gym on-site as well as a reasonably good cafeteria. I expect you will find the severance package quite generous as well."

"So, are you offering me the job?" I asked, an edge of excitement probably pretty evident.

Her grin changed to a smile, though this time her look was almost predatory. "Well, there are other things to be discussed and evaluated before I can do that." Opening another drawer she withdrew a single piece of paper and handed it to me. "This is a standard non-disclosure agreement. In quite too many words, because lawyers, it effectively says that with the exception of any illegality you observe you may not discuss anything that happens in this firm with anyone not a member of the firm. As was your security agreement with the Navy, this is binding until death or until the Firm informs you otherwise."

It was not a long document, and it seemed to say just what she said. I picked up a pen from the desk and signed it straightaway. Taking the page back from me she examined my signature, nodded, then added her own under mine. "Although I believe Foxx Inc is an upstanding firm, you would be wise to carefully analyze any small print." Standing up, she said, "I'll go make a copy of this for your records." She picked up another small packet of papers and handed it to me as she walked past me to the other door. "I'll be back in a little while to answer any questions."

The cover page was labeled "Foxx Inc Sensitive -- Disclosure Authorized Only under NDA". Typical enough, or so I thought. Turning the page I found myself faced with a rather extensive questionnaire. As I started to work on it, I soon realized it was also anything but typical. Relationship status, exercise habits, pieces of medical history, diet, alcohold consumption, sexual orientation,sexual experience to include number of partners, and then -very- specific questions about what sexual acts I enjoyed, would do, and absolutely would not do. I answered a few and then stopped; finding I was not comfortable providing this level of detail about private aspects of my life.

A little while later the door opened and I saw Ms. Olson re-enter the room. Seeing I was not writing, she said "That was fast, are you all done?" Standing in front of me she leaned over to look at the papers in my lap. Still looking forward I was treated to the most glorious down blouse view I may have ever been given. Her white top hung away from her chest, now fully revealed as a pair of large, tanned breasts unconstrained by a bra. I gulped and when I looked up she was smiling at me, apparently not put off at all by my observation of her chest. However, in my defense she had all but deliberately dangled them in my face. Add to that she was now wearing quite shocking black lipstick. Now I was really off balance. She retook her seat. "Do you have questions or concerns I can help resolve, Mr. Jeffries?"

"It's just that, well, I don't see why you need to know some of these things about your building manager," I said.

She leaned back. "Ah, I see. You did note the position is 'provider of building services', did you not?" I nodded. Her smile turned into leer. Yep, I'm quite sure of the memory. She leered at me. "You'll forgive me. I do so enjoy this part of the interview, and I've only done it a few other times, so humor me."

I took an involuntary look at her chest again. Her expressions remained the same as she said, "Your job, should you choose to accept it, includes sexually servicing the women who work here."

I was almost, almost certain I'd used my inside voice when I shouted, "Holy shit!" But then Ms. Olson almost jumped back at my outburst. I know she jumped because she bounced really nicely. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Okay."

Raising an eyebrow, she said, "'Okay', really?" Then a long pause, and she continued with the smirk back on her face. "Well then, ask me any questions you have and we'll see if we cannot clear this up." I was rewarded, I think, as her smirk switched to predatory again. I had the feeling she was toying with me. Not unlike a cat and a mouse though I didn't really think she'd literally eat me. At least not in a bad way. I pinched myself for focus.

"Riiight, how about this one about exercise habits?" I asked.

"Physical condition is linked to physical performance, wouldn't you say?" she said. Looking back I'm not sure there was a reason for me to continue, but sometimes you haven't quite processed what people have told you.

I said "Ummm, why the question about sexual orientation? And my diet?"

She locked eyes with me and I could not look away. "Mr. Jeffries, I believe my stating that you are expected to "sexually service the staff like a stud within a herd of brood mares" more than adequately provided information sufficient to answer the first." Now, I know I asked for it, but when she spoke it really rocked me. Her face was all professional, stern, condescending and superior when she resumed her rebuke of my density. "It would not do for me to hire someone not hungry enough for it. It is up to me, and me alone to select the appropriate," she winked again, "stud for my -herd-."

I swallowed heavily and nodded. She stood and removed her jacket, hung it on a coat rack and took her seat again. Her large breasts were now every bit on display, the sheer fabric of the material all but baring them to my gaze. I forced myself to look in the eye again, finally realizing what this interview was leading up to. "Now that you have utilized logic and available information to answer your first silly question 'about sexual orientation," she'd kind of spat the words at me, "I will answer your second plainly." Now the look she gave me was something I couldn't explain or describe. I don't know how to explain what 'holy fucking hornier than ever' looks like, but that was her.