Page 13 of Falling Off Script

On the shelf: a succulent (plastic), a candle labeled “Focus” (unscented), and one strategically placed chess piece—a black king. For symbolism.

My phone chirps. One minute to interviews.

Let the parade begin.

***

The first candidate shows up ten minutes early, knocking like she owns the building.

She walks in before I even say “Come in.” Blonde, bouncing, wearing a perfume that smells like a threat. In her arms: a poster board.

“I made this for you,” she says.

I look down. It’s laminated. There are glitter stickers. And a heading in bubble font: “MRS. ZAYNE VISION 2025.”

My face is on it. Multiple times. Some printouts are clearly pulled from Instagram stories that were up for twenty-four hours—three years ago.

“I color-coded your brand pillars,” she says. “See? Masculinity, clarity, legacy. Pink, gold, and chrome.”

I clear my throat. “Are you applying for the assistant role?”

“Absolutely,” she chirps. “I already memorized your schedule. I even track your content drops with my moon cycle. I’m a Pisces, by the way.”

“Noted,” I say, mostly to the part of me that wants to die.

“Oh—and don’t worry about salary. I’ll work for exposure. Just tag me occasionally. Or mention me as your muse.”

I blink.

She takes that as encouragement.

“Or future wife. I’m flexible.”

Interview length: five minutes. And that includes the time it took her to show me her Zeta ankle tattoo. With sparkles.

***

Candidate number two walks in chewing gum and wearing a muscle tank. He fist-bumps me uninvited.

“Brody,” he says. “Or just ‘Alpha Prime,’ if that’seasier.”

It’s not.

“Tell me about your experience,” I say, already regretting every decision I’ve ever made.

“I’ve studied pickup artistry in the field,” he announces. “Real-world reps. Nightclubs. Co-working spaces. The DMV.”

I stare.

“I mean, obviously that translates to branding. Energy. Tone. Frame control. I’m basically already managing your charisma.”

“So... have you ever managed a schedule for someone else?”

“I don’t believe in calendars,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“Time is a lie. I follow energy. Like, if the vibe says email, I email. If the vibe says nap, I nap.”

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