Interview

Xploding Plastix - Treat Me Mean I Need The Reputation
(them on that)

He was given a corridor to prepare in. As the minutes counted down to the encounter, he tried to think of as many similarities between hunting and fishing as possible. Logical ones mind, the policy aspect came later. Poles? The opportunity to shine brass buckles? Argh...this was killing him. He was led into the room, where a log fire spat heat, and occasionally red hot little gobbets. What is your name? What are you doing here? barked Clive. The interviewee looked as if he might start producing puddles at his feet, so Clive relented and told him it was a little joke he like to use to put the interviewees at ease. As the lad settled into the luxuriously upholstered chair Clive bellowed "rank?" then chortled, never tiring of his own wit. Satisfied that, if taken on, the current occupant would never dare ask him a question about what the company actually did, Clive eased himself into interview mode, being very careful not to mention either hunting or fishing. That ought to fox him, he thought.