“Good morning,” she looked up briefly, just long enough to be polite, before returning her attention back to her computer.

“I’m here for an interview,” I told her. My suitcase slipped in my sweaty hand. “I’m supposed to be in the conference room at 9:15.”

“Down the hall, third door on the left.” Her response was automatic, almost robotic. I had a feeling she said this often.

I thanked her, but she didn’t hear me. She was already on the phone, arranging a babysitter for her boss’s children.

I found the conference room without hassle. Her response, however unnerving, was precise. I knocked lightly on the door before slipping through it, afraid to open it too wide.

“Coffee?”

“Oh, yes, please, sir.”

I had already begun to run on automatic. I went through my interview quickly and easily, my eyes glazing over as I went through the motions. It must have gone well, though, because he leaned over the table to shake my hand and said, “welcome to The Corporation, Inc.”