Looking for work is always hard. Even in a good economy, people tend to consider factors other than pure skill. Many of these factors are barred from official consideration by federal law, though, unfortunately, some political groups pretend that the absence of biased hiring means the laws are unnecessary, hoping no one will notice the stupidity of their argument. Even with these laws, however, personality matters in the workplace.

When you are applying for a job and there are several other equally qualified contenders, it might come down to who would fit best into the office social group.

This was true when John Q. Human brought Dr. Percy Pointy, an extremely gifted metallurgist who also happened to be a talking orangutan, into his company. They had to consider their personal prejudices, yet recognize the advantages in their differences. They decided to have a fully integrated man/ape staff. Each department had to find its own balance for diversity. (The one exception was the cafeteria. After much disastrous experimentation, they decided to close it.) Diversity is an ongoing process, just like cleaning off cat hair. You could even say diversity is the definition of society. It would be fatuous, but you could say it. Go ahead. Say it. See who looks up from their drink.

But not every company is stable, and sometimes, despite everyone’s best efforts, a company changes direction and a partnership dissolves; sometimes bitterly, sometimes amicably, or, sometimes, as in John’s case, because of a successful talking-ape-army uprising.

Still, what seems like a devastating loss of power, status, income, family, credit rating, and health care can be an opportunity for new beginnings and a better life. Or vice versa.

Let’s say the company has changed ownership and there are very few positions for humans in the new social order. Tribalism has replaced diversity. John is applying for a new position as a laborer in the slag pits of what used to be Dallas, Texas; Peever, South Dakota; Brazil, Indiana; Fort Mifflin, Pennsylvania; or Colonial Williamsburg, Fake Colonial America. This is where the apes are breaking up the human cities, block by block, to burn as fuel for their power plants. It is a prestigious job, because slag laborers are rarely herded to the slaughterhouses for “reeducation.” John is very excited about this interview—in part, because he has not eaten in two weeks.

How you present yourself in the reception area can be important. Sometimes it’s the cumulative effect of your presentation of yourself that makes all the difference. In a soft job market, a specific skill is still the best tool, but that’s not the case here. No, this is just another job, a paycheck for just another Joe so he can keep food and video on the table. John has to use every skill in his arsenal, including correct posture, a neat tie, and restraint from playing air guitar in front of the receptionist. When he fills out the application form, he writes slowly and carefully, reminding himself it’s not a race; a neat form is more professional than a fast, sloppy scribble. He knows they are going to make him wait when it’s finished, and he uses that to his advantage, going over his work again to check for mistakes. He wants all his skills accurately described, because by now he’s forgotten what job he’s applied for. However, it’s always important to focus your description, so that it seems all your experience has been leading up to this opportunity, and that you’re not simply applying for any old job. Although most employers will believe you are. Because you are.

How you present yourself in the reception area
can be important

Once he’s turned in the application, he has to wait for the interviewer. The stack of magazines on the coffee table can be a trap. He must decide which magazine would most impress the interviewer as he is “discovered” reading: Forbes, Outdoor Living, Time, or Highlights? Or would reading a magazine suggest a lack of concentration on the interview, even though it hasn’t started yet? A good compromise, if the wait won’t be too long, is to get up and hit on the receptionist. You’ll probably never see her again, so why not? If this is not an option—if she is on the phone, or someone is ahead of you, or she is a silverback gorilla—then stand up and look at the art work on the walls. Study the framed industry awards. Make impressed sounds, but not too loud; say things like “Huh” and “Wow,” but avoid pandering exclamations such as “Boyoboy!” and “Zounds!”

Look for telltale signs of a strong political or religious slant to the organization. A life-size painting of the crucifixion, titled only specific people are going to benefit from this, is a very good sign if you are looking for a position that will rebirth your immortal soul instead of delivering health insurance. A photo of the current president is common and does not necessarily indicate a political preference; a photo of the supreme commander in full battle regalia on the deck of an aircraft carrier, signed “Thanks for your enormous contribution to our righteous cause,” would seem to indicate a certain bias. A photo of President John F. Kennedy indicates you are in an Irish Catholic barber shop. A photo of President George Washington may mean you are in a grade school assembly. If there are pictures of Washington and Lincoln in identical frames, your prospective employers probably buy their decor in bulk at an office supply house and none of this means anything. A poster of a kitten on a tree branch with the caption hang in there means they have not redecorated since the late 1970s and you have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a raise.

But our friend John—remember John?—elects to show his ape masters what he thinks they are most likely to want. That would be total submission, so he just slumps in his seat and stares into space, biting his nails.

The interview itself is a bit awkward. John can’t help thinking that he made Percy what he is today. This is not strictly true; though John made Percy successful, it was Percy’s ambition and General Chekchek’s army that made Percy what he is today, which is a petty warlord.

Percy comes to the lobby and ushers John into his office himself. This is an encouraging sign of respect, acknowledging their years of work together in the past.

They engage in small talk about the old days.

“Hey, remember that bowling party for Phil’s birthday?”

“Those were good times.”

“Sure were.”

“You betcha.”

Perhaps there are some awkward apologies for past mistakes—half-hearted, offered as a social nicety given the present circumstances.

Percy is in charge today, and he has to take command of the conversation.

“Look, Human,” he says, “I’ll come to the point. The point is, the position has already been filled. It’s just that I saw your name on the application and I wanted . . . I thought it . . . a courtesy interview would be the least I could do. Anyway, you weren’t really qualified.”

That last bit was no doubt unnecessary, but the rest of Percy’s remarks were at least an attempt at honesty. So kudos to Dr. Pointy!

John stares at him. Percy guesses this; he has not had the courage to look John in the face since he sat down.

“I know it’s a tough job market out there,” he mumbles feebly. “It’s tough here too. I wanted to hire more people. But the economy will turn around.”

“. . . Right,” says John, with ice in his voice.

“I think there is still some human civilization in Greenland,” Percy adds helpfully. “At least it’s there until we learn how to fly those jet things.”

“Right.” Though he is depressed at his failure to secure work, John is heartened by this sudden realization that the talking ape rulers are afraid of flying, and he is anxious to leave and pass this vital information on to the underground resistance.

“Well . . . I better go,” he says, standing quickly. “Good to see you, Percy— Overlord Pointy, I mean, sorry—”

“—Doctor. I still go by Dr. Pointy.”

“—Yes— okay— Well, thank you for seeing me. Very decent of you.”

“Good to see you too, Human— John. Good to see you, John. Help yourself to a banana muffin on the way out.”

“I think there is still some human civilization in Greenland.
At least it’s there until we learn how to fly those jet things.”

We’re having fun with the financial end of human/ape mixed society, but could they really live together in peace? They have so far.

Most major cities are run by sports mascots; it is well known that there are gifted, sensitive beings inside those suits, but few realize that America’s most precious resource is the giant head inside the giant head.

Even fewer people realize that America’s military might is in its vast number of aquariums, where dolphins work tirelessly to solve the difficult equations that keep our troops deployed at maximum effectiveness, making them the mightiest armed force in the modern world.

Fortunately, all of these creatures work for the betterment of the human race, and we remain—and will remain—the dominant species on earth.

Until the toaster uprising. After that, all bets are off.