No Admittance

Are you tempted by doors that forbid entry?

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This short story is presented for personal entertainment only. Commercial and all other use is expressly prohibited.

(c) 2012-2018 Robert Horseman, All rights reserved.

The sign on the door reads, “NO ADMITTANCE. THIS MEANS YOU!” I look left and right, but see no people or cameras. What the hell - who’s going to know? I gently turn the knob, and to my surprise find it unlocked. I smile. If they really want to keep people out, they should lock it. That’s tantamount to an invitation in my book. I quickly pull the door open just wide enough to enter, slide inside, and shut it behind me with a soft click. The room is dark and smells like old damp sneakers. I feel the wall next to the door, flip the switch, and a dim overhead bulb comes on. I am not sure what I expected to find, but this definitely isn’t it. The room is tiny, maybe six feet square, and completely empty. The walls are perfectly white and clean, with none of the dings or mars I’d expect from a room in a business establishment. Facing me is an inner door with another sign. In big red letters it reads, “CAN’T YOU READ? TURN AROUND AND EXIT IMMEDIATELY OR FACE TERMINATION.” Well that’s rather harsh. What could possibly be that important? All it does is make me intensely curious. I touch the knob, half expecting an electric shock. When that doesn’t happen, I gently turn it with my fingertips. It is unlocked, just like the hallway door. This is just weird. I grab the knob, turn it, and pull the inner door all the way open. The space beyond is a brightly lit executive office with rich wood wainscoting, thick carpet, plush furniture, and a large oak desk facing away from me. A woman sits at the desk, and she turns to face me as I stand with my jaw hanging open. She is attractive, perhaps in her mid-thirties, with dirty blond curls and conservative business attire. My employee badge photo is displayed on her computer screen. She says, “Mr. Blankenship, isn’t it?” My mind momentarily seizes up, unable to form a coherent thought. I shake myself, blink rapidly a few times and say, “Ah, excuse me, I must have missed the men’s room door.” Her smile reaches all the way up to her eyes. “Really? Well then you missed it by about a hundred feet. The men’s room is in the other wing.” She gestures toward the visitor seat in front of her desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Blankenship. We need to have a little… chat.” Her emphasis on the last word makes my stomach sour. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. This is it. I am about to be fired again. Ah well, what’s another brief employment on my already abysmal resume. I sit in the visitor’s chair and face her. “I can explain, Miss, uh, Missus…” “I can see you don’t know who I am. That’s quite understandable given the short time you’ve been employed here.” She steeples her fingers in front of her mouth and nods her head slightly. “I’m the President and CEO of this company, Margaret Wells.” I try to swallow, but my mouth refuses to provide any saliva. This beautiful woman is the company’s reclusive boss? I had heard tales but hadn’t believed any of them. Those tales hadn’t done her justice. “Do you know why I had that little back entrance installed in my office, Mr. Blankenship?” Why not go for broke, since it’s a lost cause anyway. “I’m guessing it’s to suck unsuspecting employees into your web?” She tips her head back and chuckles. “Quite right, Mr. Blankenship. Those few who come through that door usually guess it’s my secret office escape. A few even had the temerity to say it‘s for all my secret lovers. Those who get that question wrong are terminated immediately, just like the sign says. You’re the first to get it right.” “I… what?” “How does a company get a reputation for innovation, Mr. Blankenship?” I think carefully before answering. I have quite obviously misjudged the whole situation, and need to be more cautious in this minefield. “By hiring people who know how to innovate?” She stands from her chair and walks to the window overlooking the courtyard. “Yes, but how can you recognize those people?” “Interviews, resumes, talk to former employers?” She turns from the window to face me. "I’ve conducted hundreds of executive interviews and read thousands of resumes. Candidates tell me what they think I want to hear. They pad their resumes. Most big companies wouldn’t be caught dead giving me a decent assessment of anyone these days. So I ask you again, how can I recognize the innovators?” I shrug. “Hire with a probationary evaluation period?” “That's of limited value. Most aren’t innovators, but they aren’t bad enough to warrant letting them go either. Let me give you a hint. I need people who can color outside the lines.” “I swallow hard and feel blood rush to my face as I realize what is going on. “You… you devised a test?” She returns to her desk and makes direct eye contact. “You pushed through several barriers to advancement today, Mr. Blankenship. Your curiosity pushed you past two artificially imposed limitations. Then you got the right answer to my first question, something I was beginning to think would never happen. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to have to watch you like a hawk since you lied about going to the men’s room.” She purses her lips. “My final question to you, Mr. Blankenship, is this: What job would you like to have here if you could have any job, excluding mine of course?” I sit back, too stunned for an immediate response. Finally I say, “I’ve always wanted to work on a new product development team.” She nods. “I can’t think of a better job for you. You can start tomorrow.” She rises from her desk and offers her hand. “Congratulations.”

•••••The End •••••