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xp_logs In which Warren shows why he really should have an HR staff do these kinds of interviews, and Illyana shows why she probably shouldn't be hired
Illyana frowned at the security desk, raising one eyebrow imperiously. "R-a-s-p-u-t-i-n, it is not that hard to look at computer screen and verify that I have standing appointment with Mr. Worthington. Do I need to call him direct, tell him you cannot read?"
Flustered when given the full might of the woman's unimpressed face, the guard managed to find her appointment and secure her visitor's pass, pointing her at the elevator that would take her up to Warren.
That was the first thing she addressed as she sailed into Warren's office after throwing herself into the surprisingly comfortable chair. Her legs crossed at the ankles, scuffed chucks resting on the edge of his pristine desk, modesty preserved by a pair of thin leggings and one of her brother's oversized dress shirts belted at her waist. "Was security hired through Clowns R Us? They cannot find backsides with map and lantern, and have weak wills. Boris would be better guard, and he thinks everyone is friend."
There may be a standing appointment, but that didn't mean Warren was sitting around, twiddling his thumbs. He was in the middle of a phone call, which he glanced up from as Ilyana plunked herself down. He looked her up and down, and assessed her outfit. She looked like a borderline homeless student, the kind that made ramen in a coffee pot and hoarded ketchup packets from McDonald's. "Can you give me one second, Jones?," he said, holding up a finger. "Yeah, I get that this is important -- I told you already that I'd review your proposal before the end of the day, and the more you say, the longer it will take me to forget what you said and actually look at the merit of what you're asking." He rolled his eyes and gave a nod. "I really have no desire to hold your hand here. You submitted it. I will look at it. Thank you for being an employee." And then he hung up the phone and sighed. "Alright, so first things first: How would you have handled that call? And how do you think security could have handled you better?"
Illyana did not know who Jones was, or what their proposal might be about, so she tackled the second question first. "Security should have list of daily appointment, standing by week, expected packages. Calendar probably has function for all of that. They need to learn or get less difficult job. Lack of spine could be personality defect or think they will get fired for saying no to unexpected people. If personality, need new job. Otherwise, assurance that doing job correctly will not get them fired." She steepled her fingertips, resting her chin on them. "Jones. Not low level, if reporting directly. Should be able to wipe own arse, understand that you are not beck and call boy. Would tell them that."
"Lack of spine is definitely a personality defect as is a weak chin. I would have accepted you also recommending plastic surgery for them, but that's a good answer." Warren leaned back on his chair and put his own feet up on his desk, his hands clasped together on his lap. "So. Illyana. Why do you want this job? No offense, you simply don't seem like the business type. Case in point -- your outfit. I like it. It gives good vibes. Add a belt, maybe some fake lashes or red lips, and you've gone from feral to vixen."
"Am Queen of Limbo, but position there is power, survival. Experience helps, but money does not. Is why I am delegating to older demon at moment. He is mostly content to be regent. Am not business type, but will need to know business survival. Limbo is not only hell dimension. As ruler, must treat with other realms. Exert power, trade favors. Television says business is not so different, except earth also uses money." She tugged on the hem of her shirt with a grin. "You said dress like I give no fucks. Shirt is nod to business, rest is normal clothing. Can wear it down to chapel for portal later, give Clint and others good laugh."
"There's two ways to give no fucks -- one way is to look unappealing, the other is to look effortless," he said, picking up a pen and playing with it idly. "I also appreciate you are coming in with demon royalty experience, not many people can say that. No one will believe you when you bring it up, but that's fine." He tapped the pen against his lips. "You're right on all accounts. Power and favours, that's really similar. I don't need someone to worry about my money, I can do that. What I want is someone who can take care of the people around me, and be organized. And as you said, tell me no... actually, let's pretend. I just asked you to go to a gala on my behalf. Everyone will know you are there representing me. Someone hits on you. What do you do?"
She could learn to do organizing, make sure people did what they were supposed to do within reason, so she nodded at that part. The other... Illyana dropped her feet to the floor, holding her hand out in front of her chest until Soulsword materialized. "If sword appearing does not change mind about hitting, being hit with sword will make them think twice. Will only stab if they try to stab first."
Warren was not usually stunned into silence but this was an exception. Tilting his head, he thought about what he could say in response and nothing really seemed to work. As amusing as the image of Ilyana slicing through some lecherous baldy, it really wouldn't work well. "Right ... so you're going to not be able to do that, but I like your moxie. Your death glare will probably work better than a sword that is quite possibly illegal and will have you in another world of trouble." He cleared his throat. "Second scenario -- I don't want to go to a business meeting but I really really should. How do you handle that?"
The context of being 'hit on' as a metaphor for flirting didn't translate at all for Illyana. "Can also kick in shins or knee, if that is less bad. Stomp on foot. Am pretty good at hand-to-hand combat, was only thing I had for long time. Do not mind putting rich fool in place. As for you, I will dump water on head, then escort you through portal soaking wet and angry. Good for mind, learn to not say no when need to say yes or ok."
"I like how you think. Alright. Let's try this out. If you want to be my personal assistant, I can set you up with an office here, or if you'd rather work from the mansion, I don't really care either. You'll have two phones -- one for my personal matters, one for my professional matters. I'm looking to hire a PA for my charity stuff so you don't need to worry about that until I tell you to. I'll have to announce you to the staff here, so if you want to write me a blurb about you or if you want me to make one up that's fine. Oh, and I'll need a headshot and you'll have to buy an entirely new wardrobe that can look as poor as you want it to be, it just has to be designer. How does that sound?" He paused and then reached for a post-it, scribbled on it and slid it to her. "Oh and this will be your salary."
Illyana raised a polite eyebrow at the barrage of information and the salary. That was... well. She would have no issues sending money to her family via legal means, if she said yes. Telling people no, getting to terrorize weak-willed people... the idea brought a small smile to her face as she accepted the post-it. "Will think on this, get back to you by weekend yes? Even if say no, do want to apologize for words on journal. Did not need to be so rude about stupid demon that fools even wise men." She stood, holding out a slim hand. "Also. Cologne. You smell like cheap man not showering after gym. Offends nose. Do better."
Illyana frowned at the security desk, raising one eyebrow imperiously. "R-a-s-p-u-t-i-n, it is not that hard to look at computer screen and verify that I have standing appointment with Mr. Worthington. Do I need to call him direct, tell him you cannot read?"
Flustered when given the full might of the woman's unimpressed face, the guard managed to find her appointment and secure her visitor's pass, pointing her at the elevator that would take her up to Warren.
That was the first thing she addressed as she sailed into Warren's office after throwing herself into the surprisingly comfortable chair. Her legs crossed at the ankles, scuffed chucks resting on the edge of his pristine desk, modesty preserved by a pair of thin leggings and one of her brother's oversized dress shirts belted at her waist. "Was security hired through Clowns R Us? They cannot find backsides with map and lantern, and have weak wills. Boris would be better guard, and he thinks everyone is friend."
There may be a standing appointment, but that didn't mean Warren was sitting around, twiddling his thumbs. He was in the middle of a phone call, which he glanced up from as Ilyana plunked herself down. He looked her up and down, and assessed her outfit. She looked like a borderline homeless student, the kind that made ramen in a coffee pot and hoarded ketchup packets from McDonald's. "Can you give me one second, Jones?," he said, holding up a finger. "Yeah, I get that this is important -- I told you already that I'd review your proposal before the end of the day, and the more you say, the longer it will take me to forget what you said and actually look at the merit of what you're asking." He rolled his eyes and gave a nod. "I really have no desire to hold your hand here. You submitted it. I will look at it. Thank you for being an employee." And then he hung up the phone and sighed. "Alright, so first things first: How would you have handled that call? And how do you think security could have handled you better?"
Illyana did not know who Jones was, or what their proposal might be about, so she tackled the second question first. "Security should have list of daily appointment, standing by week, expected packages. Calendar probably has function for all of that. They need to learn or get less difficult job. Lack of spine could be personality defect or think they will get fired for saying no to unexpected people. If personality, need new job. Otherwise, assurance that doing job correctly will not get them fired." She steepled her fingertips, resting her chin on them. "Jones. Not low level, if reporting directly. Should be able to wipe own arse, understand that you are not beck and call boy. Would tell them that."
"Lack of spine is definitely a personality defect as is a weak chin. I would have accepted you also recommending plastic surgery for them, but that's a good answer." Warren leaned back on his chair and put his own feet up on his desk, his hands clasped together on his lap. "So. Illyana. Why do you want this job? No offense, you simply don't seem like the business type. Case in point -- your outfit. I like it. It gives good vibes. Add a belt, maybe some fake lashes or red lips, and you've gone from feral to vixen."
"Am Queen of Limbo, but position there is power, survival. Experience helps, but money does not. Is why I am delegating to older demon at moment. He is mostly content to be regent. Am not business type, but will need to know business survival. Limbo is not only hell dimension. As ruler, must treat with other realms. Exert power, trade favors. Television says business is not so different, except earth also uses money." She tugged on the hem of her shirt with a grin. "You said dress like I give no fucks. Shirt is nod to business, rest is normal clothing. Can wear it down to chapel for portal later, give Clint and others good laugh."
"There's two ways to give no fucks -- one way is to look unappealing, the other is to look effortless," he said, picking up a pen and playing with it idly. "I also appreciate you are coming in with demon royalty experience, not many people can say that. No one will believe you when you bring it up, but that's fine." He tapped the pen against his lips. "You're right on all accounts. Power and favours, that's really similar. I don't need someone to worry about my money, I can do that. What I want is someone who can take care of the people around me, and be organized. And as you said, tell me no... actually, let's pretend. I just asked you to go to a gala on my behalf. Everyone will know you are there representing me. Someone hits on you. What do you do?"
She could learn to do organizing, make sure people did what they were supposed to do within reason, so she nodded at that part. The other... Illyana dropped her feet to the floor, holding her hand out in front of her chest until Soulsword materialized. "If sword appearing does not change mind about hitting, being hit with sword will make them think twice. Will only stab if they try to stab first."
Warren was not usually stunned into silence but this was an exception. Tilting his head, he thought about what he could say in response and nothing really seemed to work. As amusing as the image of Ilyana slicing through some lecherous baldy, it really wouldn't work well. "Right ... so you're going to not be able to do that, but I like your moxie. Your death glare will probably work better than a sword that is quite possibly illegal and will have you in another world of trouble." He cleared his throat. "Second scenario -- I don't want to go to a business meeting but I really really should. How do you handle that?"
The context of being 'hit on' as a metaphor for flirting didn't translate at all for Illyana. "Can also kick in shins or knee, if that is less bad. Stomp on foot. Am pretty good at hand-to-hand combat, was only thing I had for long time. Do not mind putting rich fool in place. As for you, I will dump water on head, then escort you through portal soaking wet and angry. Good for mind, learn to not say no when need to say yes or ok."
"I like how you think. Alright. Let's try this out. If you want to be my personal assistant, I can set you up with an office here, or if you'd rather work from the mansion, I don't really care either. You'll have two phones -- one for my personal matters, one for my professional matters. I'm looking to hire a PA for my charity stuff so you don't need to worry about that until I tell you to. I'll have to announce you to the staff here, so if you want to write me a blurb about you or if you want me to make one up that's fine. Oh, and I'll need a headshot and you'll have to buy an entirely new wardrobe that can look as poor as you want it to be, it just has to be designer. How does that sound?" He paused and then reached for a post-it, scribbled on it and slid it to her. "Oh and this will be your salary."
Illyana raised a polite eyebrow at the barrage of information and the salary. That was... well. She would have no issues sending money to her family via legal means, if she said yes. Telling people no, getting to terrorize weak-willed people... the idea brought a small smile to her face as she accepted the post-it. "Will think on this, get back to you by weekend yes? Even if say no, do want to apologize for words on journal. Did not need to be so rude about stupid demon that fools even wise men." She stood, holding out a slim hand. "Also. Cologne. You smell like cheap man not showering after gym. Offends nose. Do better."
