#poor intern

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Hello, I'm here for the interview. Kate Phillips.

The voice was not spoken, but loudly and directly pushed into the intern assistant's head.

The sound made their head snap up, the sight of the owner of the voice causing his eyes to widen.

What the fuck?

They couldn't help the fear that curled round their suddenly straightened spine, heart hammering in their chest.

They swallowed, trying to collect themselves while nodding slowly, sure by the way the… telepathic slime monster seemed to wriggle that it had heard their thoughts. Taking a deep breath, they tried to collect themselves, raising a weak finger to point towards the waiting area.

A waiting area that was already filled with ghouls, beasts, skeletons and all manner of things they had never wanted to know existed. All talking or really growling to one another in practice for their interview. The intern had been trying to block it out, desperately trying not to think about the sharp teeth and claws just meters away from them. Their eyes raced away from the waiting area back to the oozing creature that dripped onto the front desk they were assigned to for the day.

"You can take a seat," they suggested lightly, eyes dropping to the goo that had fallen from it. "Ah, Mr. Chapman is running a bit behind."

The thing turned — god, was that what you called it? It felt like it wasn't looking at them any more. The applicant seemed to shift, jiggling as it looked away from the seated assistant and glanced about the small waiting area.

An audible huff sounded from it as it glanced about the competition. The sound made the assistant wonder how exactly goop could sneer without a mouth or huff without lungs, but the creature definitely was when it looked at the others.

It seemed to recognize some of the creatures before turning back to the human that reeked of fear.

How far behind is Benny?

The assistant who was rethinking their life choices and accepting an internship or any more in the future only blinked at the intrusive voice. Their eyes glanced at the clock and then to the list of names they had been crossing off as they were called.

"He is running about," he frowned, "thirty minutes behind."

Another huff.

Very well. Thank you.

They did not breathe easier watching it trail towards a free seat. Their hand shook, checking off another name but waiting to cross it off until his employer came.

The assistant shook their head, experience was certainly not enough for this. Experience be damned, they wanted cash. Though they doubted there was any amount of money that would be enough, not when it became impossible to block out the growls and snarls as they echoed within the small waiting area. Their heartbeat filled their ears, breath clenching in their chest despite their efforts to calm down. Everyone loudly, and with more and more conviction, was practicing their scariest sounds before being called on.

They rubbed their face, hands shaking, before attempting to go back to the forms they had been sorting. Desperately trying to ignore the cracking of claws, the gnawing of teeth, and the howl of inhuman vocal cords. They just had to wait, their shift was only a few more hours.

Just a few more hours.

"Howdy, here for the interview. Name's Mr. Gaeta."

They took a deep inhale before daring to look up… straight into wide razor sharp teeth, littered with blood and flecks of meat.

Oh, come the fuck on.

— A few interviews later —

"Thank you for your time. We will let you know if we decide to move forward, Mrs. Harker."

"'Hanks so much for de opportunity, Mr. Chapman," a pale hand outstretched and the interviewer hummed as he kissed the back of it.

"Thank you for coming in today. I imagine it was difficult with the sun."

"Yes, dreadful weather today. Quite unexpected. But dat is why we have long sleeves, ah?" She released a laugh. "Good day."

"Ah, good day to you too," he offered a polite smile and a tired laugh at the joke that ran true. "Sleep well."

His eyes roamed around the waiting area and the stares that levelled on him, from eyes, the eyeless, and empty sockets all waiting for their name to be called to his wristwatch and frowning.

"Apologies," a sigh, "for the lateness. I will see everyone regardless of my tardiness," he declared, looking up and at the empty desk.

His brows knitted, wondering if the intern had left or if they had simply met an unfortunate end, the same as their last. He was running late and working through his own lunch at this point.

"Right then," he frowned, glaring over the creatures in the room, wondering if someone was less hungry. "Mr. Gaeta?" He looked over to those still waiting, noticing that some had moved seats, before looking at the wide teeth and scale covered skin.

"That'd be me," the creature, surely some sort of swamp thing or alligator hybrid, walked closer, long claws clacking on the floor while another hand smoothed their tie. "Mr. Gaeta, pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Chapman."

"Ben is fine," his hand went to the other's, Gaeta simply lifted the short arm and waved his long clawed tipped hand. He did not wish to shake it, sure that his all too fleshy wrist would be torn asunder. "Right this way."

He turned and walked quickly back to the small interview room, where he sat quickly with another sigh, desperately wanting another coffee and his sandwich. They had thought the cellar would be an easy position to replace after the sudden loss of their long time live-in haunt, but it seemed harder than he had anticipated to replace Boris. It was proving harder than replacing the attic dweller, which had been left vacant for nearly a year.

"Alright so according to your CV you specialize in… sharp teeth and unsettling growls?"

"Yes, that's right — and I'm used to workin' in small spaces, especially dark wet ones."

"Good to know," he marked something down on his copy. "How are you with confusing echos?" He shifted in his chair, looking from the paper to the other's beady yellow eyes. "Our last cellar employee was quite good at raising fear, and we have become quite accustomed to the moans from below."

Mr. Gaeta's lizard-like hind legs shifted, claws from his toes clicking on the floor as he adjusted his tie. "Well, like my momma used to say: You do your best, and you can do anything!" The grin he gave was wide and sharp, filled with too many bloodied teeth. "I'm sure I could manage it."

"Good attitude," Ben nodded, humming, writing something down once more. "If a wanderer is not frightened away from the cellar, then a staff member may offer you critiques to improve upon. And you must take them, even from a human member," the interview began, watching the other's reaction, studying for any creature tells. "So my question is: how are you at taking criticism? We have a no eating, dragging into the abyss, or maiming staff policy," he stated, eyes narrowing at the odd look that passed the almost alligator’s expression.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Mr. Gaeta nodded happily, thinking about the intern who had run from him before he could even consider eating them. "Restraint and self-improvement are important."