A STORY by MELISSA FLORES ANDERSON
Aptitude
“Do you have the file on the batch of candidates for the project manager position?” Larry asked the head of recruitment, Alan.
“Yes, Candidate # 4578. Works well with others, a people pleaser,” Alan said, handing over a file.
“Sounds promising. How about the others?”
“Candidate # 3982 shows a willingness to take risks, to seek out adventure.”
“And the last candidate?”
“Appears to be open-minded, experience with diverse audiences, and has worked with AI before.”
“This new aptitude test is the best one yet. We’ve had more hiring success in the last six months than the previous four quarters. And retention is up with these new hires.”
Alan nodded and handed Larry the last files.
“Tell me, is it based on Myers-Briggs or Enneagram,” Larry said. “I took one of those ones that assigns you colors at my last job. Fiery red, sunshine yellow. I think I was cool blue.”
“Our methods are proprietary and I am not at liberty to discuss our methods,” Alan said.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever it is, it’s working. Let’s bring in the first and last candidate for an interview.”
“Will do.”
Alan walked down the hallway toward HR and pushed a button on the elevator. He walked passed the large red sign with white letters reading “Restricted Area, Special Access Required.”
He entered a sound proof area where three men sat at cubicles with frosted glass separating their desks.
“Great work. We’ve got two more candidates moving forward. You know, when I tried to pitch this idea as my thesis back in business school everyone thought I was crazy, but I knew it would work.”
Alan lifted the sheets of paper from his printer to see the results of the latest batch of applicants.
Male, 45, suburban address, with an MBA, married, with two kids and a dog. Another applicant, female, 29, urban address, a master’s in psychology, single, no children or pets. The last applicant, non-binary, 30, coastal address, a doctorate in organizational studies, one child, one cat, one dog, divorced.
But Alan wasn’t interested in any of those demographics. He scanned the first document lower to find where his programmers, or hackers as some might call them, had cracked the incognito search history of the first applicant.
In the last month, the applicant had watched a dozen porn videos featuring threesomes, a bunch with massage, and two with a wife whose husband watches her have relations with another person.
Alan shredded the sheet and started to write up the notes he would hand to Larry during their next meeting.
“The applicant has shown an aptitude for collaboration and working in groups. He also has exhibited a desire for work-life balance, and will benefit from a work environment that allows time for rest and relaxation. This applicant will also be good at navigating complicated work relationships and knows how to share in successes.”
He sometimes wished he could lord over his old professors who had laughed at his idea that he’d done it, figured out how people’s sexual fantasies could provide insight into their personalities and abilities to thrive in particular jobs or roles, but he understood the second anyone learned of his methods he’d be shut down.
Alan never watched porn for personal reasons, but his own fantasies revolved around clandestine liaisons. He knew well how to keep a secret.
Melissa Flores Anderson (she/her) is a Latinx Californian and an award-winning journalist, who lives in her hometown with her young son and husband. Her creative work has been published in more than two dozen journals or anthologies, and she received a 2023 Best of the Net nomination for CNF. She is a reader/editor with Roi Fainéant Press. She has a co-authored novelette, “Roadkill,” forthcoming with Emerge Literary Journal. Follow her on Twitter and Bluesky @melissacuisine or IG and Threads @theirishmonths. Read her work at melissafloresandersonwrites.com.