Cory stood in line at the coffee shop, scrolling between the different apps on his phone and messing with his tie at every chance he got. He was never one to get all dressed up, but he had a job interview coming up that day. He was definitely nervous and all the angst was beginning to show. The interview was for a position as a bartender at a night club and even though it wasn’t the most lavish of jobs, it was definitely a step up from where Cory found himself currently.
Finally getting his coffee to help calm his nerves, Cory snapped a selfie of himself, cracking a smile, and posted it on his Instagram. “Wish me luck! #interview”.
After finishing up, Cory made his way towards Russian Roulette, one of the hottest clubs in the city. Cory had heard from his friends that the tips alone were reason enough to apply. And he knew he was more than qualified for the job. He’d spent years working as a barista at coffee shops and a bartender at other local bars. All he had to do was nail the interview and the job was as good as his.
The problem, however, was that Cory was terrible at making good first impressions. He lacked the confidence required to let his amicable and charming self show. Instead he rambled on, losing his train of thought, and derailing the whole conversation before it ever had a chance to go somewhere.
Before he even realized Cory already found himself in front an imposing building. A large, neon sign with the words “Russian Roulette” sat atop of the main entrance. Two hulking men in black shirts with the club’s name stood at each end. The club wasn’t even open yet, so Cory thought about how strange it was that the bouncers were already at work. Cory approached one of the men, who did not even acknowledge his presence.
“Hi, I’m here for an interview.” Cory said shyly. The man said nothing as he opened the door for Cory, letting him go inside. Once through the front doors, Cory wandered throughout the building. Numerous men and women were walking about, working. Some were cleaning up from the night before. Others were loading in supplies from out back. Cory then finally saw the bar where he hoped he’d be working at soon.
A young, good looking man was standing behind the bar, seemingly doing inventory as he stood focused on some forms on his clipboard. Cory approached the man and explained that he was here to interview for a bartending position. The man stopped what he was doing and looked at Cory.
“You’re Cory?” The man said in a thick Russian accent.
Cory nodded as the man told him to stay put while he went to get his manager. The man walked into another room where Cory noticed yet another bouncer standing guard. He definitely thought it was strange to have this many guys on site during closing hours. But before he had a chance to finish his thought, the manager waved for Cory to come on over.
“Hello, welcome Cory, come sit down. I’m sorry for all this mess.” The manager invited Cory in as he attempted to straighten out his desk from all the papers, folders, and other office supplies laying about. The man also spoke in an accent. “I’m Anatoly, the manager of the Russian Roulette. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well.” Cory replied, still trying to get over his nerves from before.
“So I am just going to ask you a few questions about the job.” Anatoly said as he sat down behind his desk, grabbing a pen and a few forms from his drawer. “Ok, so tell me Cory, why do you think you’re a good fit for our club.”
Cory took a second to think about his response before finally arriving at an answer. “Well I’m a very outgoing person. I love talking to people. I’m also the kind of person who can keep organized even while multitasking, which I think is something important for this position.”
“Ok, ok.” Anatoly wrote on the forms. “How well do you handle performing under pressure.”
“I like to think I excel at that.” Cory responded.
“Wonderful!” Anatoly’s eyes gleamed. “Let me give you a scenario and you tell me how you would respond.”
“Alright.” Cory listened intently.
“You have two guys fighting on the floor. They are drunk. They are throwing fists as you Americans would say. And it is just you. How do you break it up?”
The question somewhat confused Cory. Last time he checked, breaking up fights wasn’t one of the job duties of a bartender. Norway security would intervene. But Cory really wanted the position so he played along. “I guess I’d call for back up and try to separate them?”
“Have you ever been in a fight yourself?”
“Not like a bar fight, but I have taken taekwondo before.” Cory said, reassuring Anatoly that he wouldn’t at least be helpless in that situation.
“Interesting.” Said Anatoly. “Now tell me, Cory, do you have any kind of experience working security?”
“Security?” Cory was confused. “I’m sorry Mr. Anatoly, but I think you have the positions mixed up. I thought this was an interview for a bartending position.”
Anatoly stared at Cory for a second, looking him up and down. “Oh you’re right. My mistake. It appears I had the wrong forms.” Cory was relieved. In no way was he qualified to work as one of those bouncers so he was happy to see that everything was straightened out. Anatoly stepped out of his office and called to the bartender.
“получить напитки” He yelled out in Russian.
Moments later, the bartender stepped inside the office with a tray with three drinks.
“These here are our three most popular drinks. All you have to do is tell me what each of them are and the job is yours.”
This couldn’t have been that simple. But the way Cory looked at Anatoly, he could tell that the club manager was dead serious. Cory took the first drink and sniffed it real quick. Without even taking a sip, he could tell from the strong smell that it was straight up vodka. He looked at Anatoly who was watching intently and took a drink. The liquid burned on its way down. And within a matter of seconds, Cory could already feel his body warm up. “This vodka is some strong stuff.”
“We only import the best Vodka from our homeland.” Anatoly said as he pushed the second drink towards Cory.
This one came in an old-fashioned glass. The drink was served with ice and was mostly white with a dark, brown-colored base. Pulling it up to his nose, Cory noted the smell of both alcohol and coffee. Taking a sip, the taste of vanilla cream became clear as day. “This is a vodka cocktail, White Russian?”
“Indeed.” Anatoly was pleased with his answer. He then pushed the last drink in his direction. This one was purely white and had no distinguishable smell. Cory took a small sip and besides the alcoholic after taste, he was unable to make out what it was. Worried he wouldn’t be able to figure it out, Cory consumed more and more of the drink, attempting to make out any discernible details. Before he even realized, he had already consumed it all.
“I can make out the taste of milk. Maybe fermented milk? I really don’t know. This one is new to me. I’m sorry.” Cory had absolutely no idea what this drink was. He’d never had it before nor had he ever prepared anything like it.
“Give it a minute.” Anatoly reassured him. “This is a special drink that comes all the way from the Ukraine.”
All of a sudden, a memory started to form in Cory’s head. And with that came a single word. “Ryazhenka.” Cory said out loud, not knowing what it meant or how he even knew of it.
“Amazing! That is correct!” Anatoly stood up from his desk and approached a Cory. “You will fit in here quite well.”
Something didn’t sit well with Cory however. How strange was it that the name of the drink just appeared out of no where. It was such a foreign drink too. No way he ever would have guessed it like that. Cory continued to obsess over it until a faint memory started to manifest itself.
Growing up with the white, winter snow back in Soviet Russia. Spending hours upon hours at work in the factories years later only to attempt to forget the day away with bottles of Ryazhenka.
Cory started getting a feeling of homesickness. However, these were not his memories. He never lived through any of that. He was born and grew up in sunny California and he was barely a baby during the days of the Soviet Union. So none of this made any sense. The more Cory got caught up in his own head, the less he became aware of what was happening to him. Meanwhile, Anatoly just stood there, watching in contempt as he witnessed Cory begin to change in front of his very own eyes.
Cory started growing, his body stretching itself until he reached a height of 6’5. Meanwhile, his thin and lanky frame began accumulating pounds of muscle. A stupid amount at that. His biceps and triceps expanded, stretching out the seams of his dress shirt until the whole thing disintegrated into pieces of fabric. His thighs filled out his ironed pants. On Cory’s chest, his previously flat pecs ballooned to incredible sizes, perfectly complimenting the row of abs that bulged out more and more in his stomach. Once his body was done changing, his skin tone started to darken just a bit. His ghostly white skin turning a shade or two darker.
Finally came the changes to his face. Years of hard work and experience were added to his youthful complexion. Looking to be somewhere in his thirties, Cory’s demeanor also changed as his friendly face slowly turned more serious. The facial hair he had been sporting shortened into a tight stubble while his styled hair became a crew cut.
Anatoly had been watching all this in silence. The man sitting in the chair nearly indistinguishable from the one who came in for the interview.
“вставай” Anatoly said, appearing to snap Cory out of the trance he was in. “твоя смена скоро начнется.” He then goes on to toss a black shirt over to him, urging him to put it on as his shift is about to begin.
“да сэр” Cory, or Dmitri as he now called himself, replied back, speaking perfect Russian and his voice much deeper than before. He does as he’s told, putting on the cotton shirt as it stretches around his bulging body. On the front lies the club’s logo while Cyrillic letters in white font spelling “охрана” are etched across the back.
