The Application

By Katie Appeldorn

Thank you for applying to become a member of our team. You have successfully completed the personality portion of our online application process. We think of everyone here in our corporation as family. This is why we strenuously screen our applicants to ensure only the finest well-rounded people are brought into our tight community. You are merely a few clicks away from finishing the application process.

Complex Reasoning Assessment:

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COMPLEX REASONING ASSESSMENT:

Directions: Make sure to read every sentence completely. Keep in mind your answer will be timed. Choose the best option available for every question. Click the next button at the bottom left after completing the question. Pressing the back button or refreshing the page may cause data loss and will duplicate results. Good Luck!

Your fussy baby, adorable dog, and sassy self are the only ones allowed on the lease in your tiny two bedroom townhouse. However, being a single parent is exceptionally difficult. It turns out daycare is expensive; you have to pay rent, water, electricity, phone, and cable every month.

Q) How much do your weekly expenditures come to?

So you find out your ex’s thin, snaggle-toothed half-brother and his chubby, short girlfriend just got kicked out of their apartment in Philly. You take the dog to the vet for a vacation and drop the little monster at your favorite—closest—relative Aunt Connie’s trailer. You clean out the car and prepare to drive North from Wilmington, N.C., as soon as you get off of work at 4 p.m. Traffic sucks, the drive is long, you’ve already drank a pot-an- a-half of coffee, your bladder is threatening mutiny, but you keep going.

Q) How many red cars did you pass?

When you get there you are greeted by eight furious flights of stairs, a U-Haul, and the overwhelming sense this is a bad idea. You tell your brain to shut the hell up and chant this is going to burn a million calories. Every step laughs at you reminding you of your high school gym teacher, Mrs. Gartner. “Fitness is important,” she used to say. It’s hard to see the wisdom in the words of a mere gym teacher, but flabby thighs speak no lies.

Q) Do you help the homeless junkie slumped over? If so, how? Did you even see him?

Sweat scratches your eyes, your lungs are rocks, but the blurry eight floating on the door washes all that away. You open the door and there is a flash of the “Shining.” A hallway with uniform doors that seems without end lies ahead. Fake plants and spray painted gold inlays do not add a poshness to the interior. You liberate your phone from your pocket and bring it to life scrolling to the text with the apartment number, 825. 805 you are disappointed, 806 you are still woozy, 807 you notice your reflection in the mirror at the end of the hall, 808 you look terrible, 809 you wonder if this is worth it, 810 you hate the sound of your own feet, fifteen more unembellished doors to go.

Q) What can you do to reduce your carbon footprint?

You reach 825 and knock. You hear skittering and mumbles slithering from underneath the door. They have assured you for the last couple of weeks they are completely packed. They are not. Everything they own is scattered throughout the front room. A toaster sits next to a pile of clothes while getting chummy with a collection of Stephen King books. A black cat glares at you from a cage perched on a cluttered couch. Marijuana smoke lingers in the air. The yellow sun setting through the slats covering the patio door does not warm the dirty apartment. It is frigid, but not cold.

Q) What is the cat’s name?

Fourteen months later they have not paid you any rent. They both have sources of income. They make more than you do and do not have a bill beyond a Walmart phone bill. They have never gotten up in the night with the baby or taken care of him in the morning, even though you got in late. They also believe your car is theirs, however, all of the gas and maintenance that belongs to you. Oh and you have to follow their schedule. Dishes are escaping the sink; dust bunnies are amassing underneath the bar stools; the grass is stretching toward the sky and smiling. You are avoiding phone calls. You are trying to figure out which is more important food, water, or electricity. They are complaining because the cable and internet are not working. They are putting on new clothes to go drinking. They are inviting their friends over for dinner first. You are supposed to leave. You bring them down.

Q) Do you ask them to leave, pay you back, or invite your new lover and another pet into the house? Your love interest promises to help pay rent and clean. Will your roommates get the hint? Will this finally make you happy?

Nine months, a decent paying job, and a state later you are telling your fiancé to pack his glass piece, everything you bought him, and eight bags of ill-fitting clothes. You did not answer your cell phone soon enough on the one night since you and your fiancé met that you went out without him. Your friend from the Marine Corps was in town for a wedding. The next morning your fiancé screamed about the irresponsibility of having a kid and not answering your phone. Problem solved; the screen glittered as he tore it in half liberating every shard of glass. The home phone was the next casualty.

Q) Does 9-1-1 have a Facebook page? Will an email make it to the police in time?

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Category: Fiction, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student