From the Archives: The Iranian Lock King

For a brief...dark, period of my life, I was employed as a sales rep at a lock company owned by this evil Iranian man. I have been working on a short story about my trials and tribulations there. I have two chapters almost finished.... Keep in mind...neither chapter is done, but I am including both

Chapter One: The Iranian Lock King

On a beautiful August morning back in the year 2000, I answered a call made to my Enterprise Rent-A-Car office from a man with a very thick foreign accent. It was a very stern, cold accent that reminded me of Ivan Drago's wife from Rocky IV. He wanted to be picked up but was not in our area. (Enterprise "law" forbade stealing other branch's business by picking people up in an area not in your branch's zone). Knowing my manager was breaking Enterprise law by renting to people out of our area and knowing it was going to be me stuck picking up this guy – I just went ahead and took the directions.
When I got there and picked him up, he looked just like sounded – foreign and stern. His mouth seemed to permanently frown, and he looked like a miserable human being. Just what I loved about this dreadful job- uncomfortable conversation with someone who I wasn't go to be able to understand. So as we were talking, I came to discover he was from Iran (and was trying to remember if it was Iran or Iraq that hated us). Part of me was afraid that the vehicle I picked him up in was going to burst into a fiery explosion, part of me didn't care if that happened at this miserable point of my Enterprise career. He seemed very interested in knowing about me, and was asking probing questions. I, being the chatty Cathy that I am, was singing like a canary or a Mafia turncoat. His name was Alex and turns out he owns a company over in Philadelphia that is a distributor of locks and door hardware and just fired an incompetent salesman.
For some reason, Alex took a shine to me and was hinting at the possibility of hiring me. I was entertaining this because at the time I would have taken a job as a human ashtray. I had nothing to lose, Enterprise was a lost cause and I had nothing else going. We exchanged numbers and he told me he really wanted to hire me. For once, I felt like I was getting a lucky break and would finally be on the road to success. (Since I was on the Highway to Hell presently) So as soon as I could, I sent my resume and cover letter that outlined how interested I was in the thrilling, fast-paced sexy world of locks and door hardware. After a few days, I finally got a response and a chance to interview. *Right about here I should have seen the stoplights, white flags, and Jerry Springer guests saying "Don't Go there"*
When I walked into the world headquarters of (don't giggle here) Fried Brothers Inc., aka FBI Security I should have just turned around, tucked my tail between my legs, and done my best Carl Lewis impersonation. It was the most dreary, awful, dimly lit depressing place I have ever been (besides any IHop or Kmart on a weekday morning). The current employees looked like extras from any 60's zombie flick and barely grunted when I walked through the doors. But I'll get to that cast of characters in a bit.
The secretary told me Alex wanted me to sit and wait for him since he was on a business call. I sat in a room adorned with locks, lock posters, keys, key posters, and an inch of dust on everything. When he was finally ready for me, after a half hour wait and a quarter inch dust collecting on my body I ventured into his office. The friendly Iranian lock dude I picked up a few weeks that was literally throwing a job offer at me turned into a totally different person in the interview. I felt like a prisoner of war being interrogated by the enemy. The questions were quick, short and many. I have never been so uncomfortable being asked questions since a friend's father asked me before I was to sleep over their house "Do you wheez?" – I was 9 years old. In congruence with the fact that I cannot possibly take anything seriously, I almost starting giggling nervous like a schoolgirl, or poorly medicated mental patient. But alas, I made it through and after a stern handshake (I know I am using the word "stern" a lot, but this guy personified the word).
But after the interview, and before accepting, I had to pass a drug test and "personality test". Both were going to be held at the same place at 18th and Locust in Center City.
The place where this was to be held was a scary place. It was like a private investigator's office, well it wasn't "like" one, it WAS one. The girl who interviewed me and gave me the tests was very fetching. It made it even harder to tell the truth since I could barely speak English to this girl to begin with! he starts asking me questions, and they are extremely personal. And of course, me, never taking anything serious, try joking with her. I tell her "Before you ask, I am NOT going to tell you when I lost my virginity!" Fully expecting her to chuckle, she stared at me blankly with a look that could melt Antarctica. The rest of the session was uncomfortable, as you could imagine, but I made it through. Now a normal human being, or even someone with a few problems, issues, and conditions may have just stayed away and realized that this was bad news. But foolish, silly, and stupid Marty needed to get the F out of Enterprise so I accepted the job offer.