I decided to apply for jobs in special education.

Unlike the private sector, applying to a school district was easy. I got four call-backs in less than a week. My fear of not being able to get a job was false.

I looked at my clothing drawer. It was full of Carhart heavy-duty work pants.

I had one outfit that I wore to church.

I put that on, and I went to my job interview.

A black man came-out of the conference room wearing a three-piece suit.

I could tell he didn’t get the job. There was something about his face that was a dead give-away. It was expressionless.

I walked in.

I immediately knew who the principal was. He was fat and bald. He had gray in his beard, like a skunk. There was a skinny administrative intern with curly hair and a delicate face, sitting next to him.  A woman in a silver suit sat across from me. When she smiled, she had receding gums. It looked like there were bits of flesh between her teeth. It was probably chicken, but I suspected it could be children.

The last interviewer was the woman who became my master. I was her slave for three years. She was 50. No man had ever proposed marriage to her because she was crazy. At 38, she decided to artificially inseminate herself. She had two boys who were her pride and joy. I think the sperm belonged to a man from Thailand. Holly wore clothes from the salvation army and took pride in their raggedy appearance. She was a religious fanatic, who believed many of her students were possessed by evil spirits. When she interviewed me, there was greed in her eyes, but at the time, I didn’t pay any attention to that.

They went around the circle, asking me standard questions.

I lied.

“Have you ever had conflict with an employee?”

I took time to think, pretending to search my brain.

“I can’t think of anything,” I said.


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