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Interview With Cliff

by The Walrus 

Posted: 30 March 2005
Word Count: 1150
Summary: This is purely experimental! Have very little experience of writing prose - so this may fall monumentally flat on its face.


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Luckily and contrary to popular belief, celestial wages are not all they’re cracked up to be… OK, OK, so I bribed the security guard with the little I had, not that I had that much of value in my shiny civil service briefcase given the circumstances of my hasty departure…

Whatever. I was in, but to be honest, it was not entirely what I was expecting… I noticed the gates were a bit neglected as I strolled through. Would have thought they could have polished the pearl now and then. As for the building? Pretty standard for an institution, a maze of corridors and the outside reminded me of a school visit I had had years before to post-war Russia: a labyrinth of grey slate and cold metal, its large entrance like a muscovite county hall off Red Square. My initial impression was not particularly improved by the hunched shadowy figure brushing rudely past me with a not-so-subtle hand gesture towards the guard in a manner that suggested they both had some sinister business in common.

Wandering around aimlessly, I stopped for a truly foul coffee from an ancient vending machine before finally finding the door to the office I was looking for – marked ‘Cliff’ in large grubby gold letters. I took a deep breath, and, trembling, knocked.
‘Come in!’ the voice boomed. I opened the door. I’d heard about the dress down policy, and I guess it wasn’t so much the ripped jeans but the T-shirt slogan: ‘My way or the highway!’ that threw me a bit. He swung his legs off the desk, put down his cigar and stood to shake my hand. He then gestured towards a stained seat. I sat, finding my head level with the top of his desk and was determined to be unawed by such an obvious tactic of intimidation.
‘Soooo, what’s your name?’ (Was it me, or did his voice have a distinctly South American twang to it, like a husky Marlon Brando?) I cleared my throat:
‘Bob’, I replied. He picked up his clipboard, flicked through a few pages, frowned, glanced momentarily up and said:
‘You’re not on the list, Bob’. I winced. I should have anticipated the red tape.
‘Oh well, let’s kill the damn bureaucracy. Since you’re here, we might as well get on with it’. He stroked his goatee with one hand and the white poodle nestling on a nearby stool with the other. He then poured himself a large Scotch from a monstrous bottle to his left, leant towards me and whispered huskily, a mischievous smile wrinkling across his tanned face,
‘Sooo, Bob, what did you learn then?’
‘Learn? Umm, right well, I read the bible, well most of it, well the good bits, and…’
‘Look, cut the crap, no-one reads the bible anymore. I mean we got plans to update it, because quite frankly, the youth now want a little more flesh in the plots, know what I mean Bob? You like a bit of flesh Bob?’ I sat silent, not entirely sure how to respond. He took a large slug from the glass. ‘Anyway, Bob, let’s hear it. What did you really learn? I noticed the stool by Cliff’s chair was now empty and its former occupant was rubbing itself up and down my shin with vigor.
‘Well, I learnt to treat others how I would like to be treated and….’
‘Bob’, he sighed, shaking his head,
‘I am disappointed. We operate a policy of honesty around here. I mean come off it; you know I’m omniscient, so it’s pretty pointless trying to bullshit me, my friend. So this is the way it works, you tell me the truth, I slap your wrists, you acknowledge the error of your ways, ask for forgiveness, I deliberate for a bit, make you squirm and then we come to an agreement. So if you have any intention of remaining here, I suggest we do it my way. OK?’ I nodded my acknowledgement, my throat dry as I tried to subtly shake my leg to which the poodle had now firmly attached itself, humping like a crazed nympho.
‘So, shoot’. I looked down, fearing the worst.
‘OK, well, basically I messed around at school, got drunk a lot, womanized and added virtually no value to society whatsoever’.
‘Succinctly put’. He smiled playfully, leaned over his desk towards me and quietly and purposely whispered:
‘Soooo, Bob, who was your favourite?
‘Pardon?’
‘Well, y’know, who was the best in the sack?’ I shivered inwardly at the thought of Cliff monitoring my bedroom activity (I mean he’d probably videoed the whole lot for all I knew and was selling it at a knockdown price to Lucifer, or worse still, to some pay-per-view internet site in Croatia) but I’d come this far, so ploughed on,
‘Err, well, Lucy was err, quite a nice girl’.
‘Ha! That’s what I thought too’. His shoulders pulsing with sudden twisted mirth,
‘It was that fat arse that did it for me, I’m an arse man you know.’ I squirmed silently.
‘The bigger the better.’ His hands cupped like some religious chalice, pretending to sup from the top in some hideous re-creation. I smiled weakly, trying to overcome a mounting sense of queasiness, not helped by the smell of stale whisky.
‘Right, so, given that you pissed up your education, left a trail of broken hearts and wasted your time on earth, why then Bob are you here? Perhaps you’d like to give me a good reason to consider your application? We have a whole room of sodomites here you know, who always like the new boys!’. Terrified, I cleared my throat:
‘Well, I can mix cocktails, and….. I know loads of really good jokes and…… and I’m a good salesman’, I mustered scraping my mind for memories of my not so distant normal life in Reading.
He sat in mock silence, faintly chuckling.
‘Bob, I’ve been doing this job for quite some time now and have done more interviews than you’ve had cheap tarts. During my career, I don’t think I have ever come across such a pitiful case for entry. He sucked on his cigar and blew a bilious cloud of smoke into my face. Then he smiled, and said:
‘However, I’m in a good mood today and for some bizarre reason, I quite like you, Bob. You got front. So you think you’re a salesman do you?’ At this point he reached under his desk, pulled out a large leather briefcase and placed it deliberately between us.
‘You see, Bob, distribution has always been the problem up here. But let me give you an offer you literally can’t refuse’. His eyes sharpened to demonic points as he opened the cavernous case, staring at me intently from his position over me.
It was at this point I realised that my troubles were about to begin…






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Comments by other Members



laurafraser at 17:45 on 30 March 2005  Report this post
I have never read a piece of fiction over two hundread words on WW but read your piece as I so admire your poetry and was curious to see how this prose would turn out.I like the concept of the piece and there is good humour but I found some of it slightly too nudge nudge wink wink...I think that it gets stronger towards the end, there are a few cliches at the beginning that I think weaken the writing:

eg:

"wondering around aimlessly..." / 'swinging' legs off desk

I do not mean to criticse especially as this is one of your first forays into prose but as I read this I wanted a stonger voice to emerge, it is as if there is a silent battle of styles being fought out in the paragraphs with no resolute winner.

I think that you are a great writer but I think there are parts here that let you down, when Bob knocks the door "trembling" i didn';t believe it-his attitude has been too cavalier up to this point.

The description of the place is brilliant, amusing and wry, "pearl gates" etc, your use of rhetoric works but most of all it is lucid and clear, clever and vivid-it is there that i think your voice shines the most.

I enjoyed reading this but feel that perhaps the piece needs a bit more confidence in it which will allow it it to radiate a more unique and therefore more interesting voice.

But i'm intru=igued by the story and the lightness of the story appeals-looking forward to the next installment!

Laura

The Walrus at 18:38 on 30 March 2005  Report this post
Hi Laura, fair cop, wasn't sure about it myself but criticism is good and your points are both valid and useful. Back to the drawing board!

Appreciate you reading this given it's 200+ words!

Thanks again,

Christina


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