Felipe, an intern of sorts, took a gander out of the nearest window. He turned the goose over in his hand; and upon seeing that it did not meet his standards, set it back. As he stooped over to put the gander back in the window, he happened to look outside. Outside appeared to be primarily unremarkable, save only for a helicopter which was landing on a nearby patch of grass.
“Oh, a helicopter landing on a nearby patch of grass.” he was able to remark. Motioning for Dawson Filter to join him, he ran to the outmost side of the office to greet the helicopter pilot. The only other helicopter pilot Felipe had known was his stepfather Giovanni, and he wanted to get a better impression of the sky-men.
“Hello, Dawson Filter.” the pilot said, “Not to brag, but I’m Hank Monroe.”
“Hello Hank.” Dawson answered. Filipe smiled. His stepfather never greeted anyone. “What sort of thing brings you to this area?”
Hank leaned against the helicopter door; “I heard about your little start-up. It didn’t sound like you had any steady source of revenue, so I thought to myself ‘Hey, they sound like pretty subpar business people. I bet that if I posed as someone who would help them make money, that they’d hire me, and then I could embezzle from them freely.’ I disregarded the majority of that thought; but it gave me the idea of helping you make money, under the condition that I have complete access to your resources.”
Dawson had some minor doubts about Hank, but Felipe had come to trust him like the back of his hand.
“Sure, man!” Felipe began, “As an intern it is most definitely within my pow’r to offer you a job. You’re like the step dad I never had. I’d like to offer you more than I job. I’d like to offer you a career.”
“You’ll have to interview for it, of course.” Dawson interjected, “We could even start now, if such a time as now tickles your fancy.”
Hank nodded via his head, and followed Dawson into the office. He took a seat on a box opposite Dawson, and Dawson called over Twelve-Anne and Sylvester.
“This is Hank Monroe,” Dawson said, “he’ll be interviewing for the position of director of the money-making department.”
Twelve-Anne took a clipboard from the floor, and began to read off of it, “Do you have any prior experience with directing departments, Mr. Monroe?”
“Oh, I’ve studied the art of direction, miss.” Hank said, twirling a deck of cards in his fingers.
“Do you have any health issues we should know about before hiring you? And if you have a health card that you could show us, that would be lovely of you.”
“Is this your card?” Hank asked, removing a health card from the deck, “And yes, I have several snake-related injuries that shorten my attention span to three hours. It’s still about 1400 times longer than average, but I used to hold the record. They just found the rocker who did it to me on the moon.”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“I see others before myself and the present before the future.”
“Why would you like this job?”
“To prove to the world that helicopter pilots are able to settle down and have healthy relationships.”
“Are you currently employed?” asked Felipe.
“No.” Hank replied.