The fourth part of my MSE series, I promise the title does make sense if you read it to the end.
MSE 4 : Doing the Milkround with Ben Franklin.
"So did you enjoy your internship?"
Cindy asked, rather coolly I thought. Then again last time I saw her I'd just beaten the crap out of her and taken away her chance for the internship we'd just fought over. I'd run into her while doing the Milkround.
Ah, the Milkround.
I know that some of you readers aren't from around here, so I'll explain. The Milkround in the UK is at the end of the last university term when companies tour Universities each year to recruit students about to graduate, and we get a chance to talk and apply to employers. It's a big job fair, basically. The name comes from the fact that Uxxxxte Dairies were among the first to do this. I thought it was cos it was like the milkmen who used to come around early in the morning in their electric vans and deliver milk to households, but no.
Back to the story.
It was inevitable we would meet again; we were both well on course for a first and so we'd be going for all the same jobs.
"Yes," I tried to sound as though I wasn't gloating.
She looked at me, wanting more. I was trying to maintain coolness, just the facts ma am. I didn't want to gloat over the fact that I'd beaten the fucking shit out of her to get the internship, but it was so difficult.
"It was cramped on the ship, the sea was rough, and the food rations were barely food".
She just looked unimpressed, arms crossed, giving me an 'I already knew that' look.
"And... "
I cracked.
"It was fucking fantastic!!"
"Did you see?" She started to ask.
"The Ross Ice Shelf, yes, I even slept under the Southern lights. It was awesome, the lights, the sounds, I never realised it made sounds."
"Yeah it's the sound of the charged particles..."
She looked wistful.
"...Shit..." She murmured.
But I could see the way her eyes lit up. And we started talking, and we were both forgetting about how we had tried to beat each other up and were just two people talking about something they loved passionately.
We started talking about 'The Interview'. It turned out we'd both applied for the same job at LYM. Not surprising really as they were leaders in their field, and the best paying. And this is the MSE so what do you think is going to happen at 'The Interview'? We discussed possible interview techniques.
"I hear you got your arse kicked at Takanakuy."
<i>( Was that gloating? I bet EVERYBODY heard about that!)</i>
"Yeah, it made me start fight training, I m learning Krav Maga."
"I did MMA after our scrap. You had any fights since?"
"A couple"
(Maybe I'll tell you about them someday)
We talked for a while longer, and I lost track of the time, it felt so good to talk to someone who cared as much about fluid dynamics as I did. Let me say, from looking at the blank looks from my boyfriend and family and friends, there aren t that many who do. After a while, we went our separate ways.
"See you there..."
"See you there... "
I got there 15 minutes early. It was an impressive place, modernness and money oozed from every pore of the building (do buildings have pores? Dunno, but whatever they have it oozed from it), and it was so fucking clean and precise. the receptionist removed her earpiece and showed us to the changing room. There wasn't much talk, we knew why we were here and what we were going to have to do, this is the MSE after all. There were a group of three bigger girls, they all seemed to know each other, and they whispered and pointed, a couple of other pairs were also whispering.
For the fight we would not be wearing shoes, just black leotards, they all had a number in white on the front. The smaller the number the smaller the size of the leotard, and each number was unique, for identifying us easily, I guess. We chose the leotard that fitted and put them on. I ended up with the number 30. Little Cindy was number Ten.
I'd already prepared, and what little jewellery (just my boxing gloves necklace that Derek had given me) I had was in a little bag, and my nails were nicely trimmed back, they were never long anyway. I looked over at Cindy, she didn't have much to remove either. We'd both gone for the MMA braided-cornrow hairstyle. I smiled at Cindy, and she smiled back.
A woman came in, dressed all business-like and efficient. She instructed us to line up in numeric order and then told us to walk into the gym where there was a big, matted area.
We were told to go to alternate sides of the mat, the first person to the left, the second to the right, the third to the left and so on. Obediently we lined up. We were standing, facing each other.
The business-like lady spoke:
"Welcome to the Interview. You have all done very well to come this far. However, we have far too many applicants for the small number of positions we have available".
"You are facing your first opponent; we have set it up so that your first opponent will be the same size as yourself."
"You can choose your style of combat and after your first opponent, you can choose who you will fight next. You can choose to work in groups if you want. You'll fight until only four of you remain".
"Now you see the first aiders".
She pointed at some men and women in short-sleeved white shirts and white trousers with a Red cross on the right shirt pocket.
"They are all high-trained paramedics who will examine you after your fights. And will administer any medical attention they deem necessary"
"And over here we have the monitors"
She pointed at some women in short-sleeved black shirts and black trousers.
"Their job is to record and certify the results".
"They are not there to interfere, unless you re about to cripple someone permanently, that s a no-no. So please don t get in their way. I promise you; you will regret it if you do".
A couple of the monitors smiled, as though they wanted someone to try. Not a chance! Any one of them looked like they could fuck up all twenty of us without working up a sweat. They went down the line, checking our nails and making sure we had no jewellery. Like good little girls, we held out our hands for inspection.
"Victory will be by knock-out or submission which of course will have to be certified by the monitors".
"Oh, and don t worry about your language. We understand that this is a stressful activity, and we won t take into account any foul language you use here. Of course, if you are successful and come to work for us, such language is expressly forbidden, but here it is allowed!"
"That's it girls, good luck!"
I looked at my opponent, number Thirty-two.
She had short brown hair, done up in a bun, rather sweet looking, pretty, yeah pretty. She was jumping up and down, moving from foot to foot. she certainly looked nervous, she licked her lips, and I could see her heavy breathing.
When she looked at me, I winked and blew her a kiss. I was fucking with her, and it was worth it for the look on her face.
"Fight!" The command rang out.
Eager to get the first shot in, Thirty-two did a beautiful pirouette, it really was, she'd obviously trained, launching what I guessed was a very powerful kick, unfortunately for her, I saw it coming and I knew a counter. I crossed my arms, and her foot landed in the centre of the 'X' that my arms created. Then moving my hands together, I now held her foot.
"Shit" I heard her say under her breath.
I could see the look of dismay and foreboding on her face. I had her and she knew it. I smiled and blew her another kiss.
"Oh, Dear! I said as I threw my arms up. Losing her balance, she fell on her back. I jumped on top of her I was going to ground and pound her. I was going to.
"Shit"
Her foot smacked into my face. I fell back landing on my arse.
StupidStupidStupidStupidStupid!
I rise and so does she. We start circling, slowly stalking each other. I accept the challenge, the old me would have leapt in and ripped that fucking bun off her head, then her tits. The old me. I will beat her on her terms. I can do this, I ve trained for it, I tell myself.
Without words, we lift our arms and lock up in the middle of the mats. We push and tug trying to get an advantage. The only sounds are our heavy breathing, the shuffling of our feet on the mats, the occasional grunt of exertion, and the slap of flesh on flesh.
With a quick movement, Thirty-two manages to slide her body behind me, quickly locking her forearm around my throat. Shit, choked again, this little shit is good!
Dropping onto her skinny arse, she pulls me between her legs. Her thighs begin to squeeze, but I manage to catch her feet with my hands and spread her legs far enough apart to allow me to squirm onto my side.
I slam my elbow into Thirty-two's belly. That gets a groan. I slam again and get a louder moan. A third time I feel the grip on my throat loosen. This is my chance, I grab her arm from around my throat, and I roll forward, taking her with me into her back. She looks up into my smiling face. Again, I blow her another kiss, and quickly, she rolls away.
We both scramble to our knees, we quickly move in on each other and lock up again, wrestling it is then. We push and tug, trying to force the other back. I get the struggling Thirty-two in a front headlock. Thrusting my weight forward, I get her onto her knees push her face into the mat and pile my body weight onto her upper body.
Still on her knees, she squirms and writhes, the sweat making her slippery, but she can't buck me off. Soon she finds herself tipping off her knees and onto her side.
I keep the pressure on her and start trying to roll her onto her back. When I get her there, I try to slip one leg across her chest and straddle my victim. From this position, it s easy to time her bucking and start pushing my bottom leg under her back. Too late she realises what I'm up to and tries to bring her body down denying my leg the space, but my leg is halfway there, and I push harder and get it under her.
Then I clamp down, hard, Thirty-two's scream echoes around the room,
"NGGGHHHAAAGGHHH!!!!"
It's simply a matter of time now.
The silly cow didn't get the message, though. She squirms and bucks, writhing and pushing, she nearly manages to loosen the hold. So, I reach out, clamp my hand over her mouth and pinch her nose shut, I see her eyes widen in panic. Her bare feet kick at the mat in frustration, she knows what I m doing. You can see her mind racing feverishly looking for an escape, somehow, anywhere, but she simply can't find one. Her squirming and writhing begin to wane along with her ability to breathe.
Submission is just a formality. Stick a fork up her arse and turn her over, she s done. I squeeze my thighs tighter. Each time I tighten my legs, I can feel a little more air leave poor Thirty-two's trapped body. Little puffs of air from her mouth and nose feel cool on my sweaty skin.
I tilt her head forward and with my free hand, I brush some strands of hair off her sweaty forehead. I look into her pretty blue eyes that combine frustration, fear and pain.
I want to say something to make it better, to tell her I was sorry, there will be other jobs, just not this one.
All I manage is a whispered "Sshhhh" as I watch her fade.
Tears are forming in those pretty. I squeeze again and see the will to fight fade from Thirty-two's eyes. With a light tap on my thigh, the monitor nods, and I release my hold.
I watch her walk, led away by the monitor, sobbing.
Having finished off my first opponent I look around at all the fights still going on, I notice number One-twenty, she's a big girl, fuck the name Queen Kong jumps into my head. She's pounding her knees between some poor girl's legs. I instinctively cover my crotch as her body jumps with each kick she receives like she's having a fit.
I look around, for Cindy. She's on top of Eleven and pounding her head into the mat by the hair. Getting the tap from the Monitor, she looks me dead in the eyes and then lunges...
...at a girl charging me from behind, Eighty-two. They fall to the floor, pulling hair.
I turn. Eighty-eight s fist slams into my eye. I stagger back. She moves in, swinging. I block and punch straight into her gut. I like the gasp she gives. I start swinging, she raises her arms blocking me, as I swing my fists from side to side. I've got her on the defensive. Then I pop her on the chin. Her face snaps back.
She looks at me I raise my fists and kicks at my crotch. I twist my body, and she hits my thigh instead, and it still fucking hurts.
"Dirty whore!" I mutter as I rub my thigh.
She laughs.
"What's the matter? Don't like big girls fighting?" She's fucking laughing!
I knew what they were doing. If you're a bigger girl, start at the low numbers and work your way up. Rational, logical and oh-so-scummy. The big girls pick on the smaller girls or call 'em by their proper name: bullies. Plus, this little turd tried to ambush me from behind. Well, fuck you!
Just on principle, I'm determined to fuck her up good. It's a feeling I've felt before, I put it into words.
FUCKINGSHITSLAGSLUTWHORE!
I storm back in, swinging! She tries to block me, but I m too fast. Left, right combo to the face, sending her head swinging.
Her arms flail out and she catches me on the left arm. Then she pulls me in. She gets her arms around me and squeezes, lifting me off my feet. My breath is going, and she s cackling.
"Little girl I'll crush like the stick insect you are. You're playing with the big girls now!"
She pulses her grip. I gasp.
She pulses again, and pain shoots through my body.
OHMYGOD! MYFUCKINGRIBS!!
I can see her friend kicking at a rolling Cindy. I try to move my arms, but Eighty-eight holds them tight. I struggle, I kick with my legs, they just kick uselessly in the air.
Crunch!
I head-butt the skank, catching her on the nose. Oh yeah, there s blood.
Shocked, she releases me, holding her nose, starting to sob.
"You fucking broke it!"
She punches out, aiming for my left breast. I yell at the pain, holding my breast.
"I'm gonna punch those tits flat" she proudly proclaims. Slag.
I feel the agony and see the smirk on her face, she s expecting me to dissolve into tears, she s puzzled at why I m grinning, cos I m thinking "Big fucking mistake" as I grab her breasts and squeeze down hard.
"AAAGGHHH!!!!"
With her mouth agape and eyes wide open, she lets out an agonised gasp. All thoughts of attack are driven from her tiny brain as I dig in, stepping on the gas pedal. I didn't want a titfight in front of the monitors, but this slag started it and I sure as fuck am going to fucking finish it.
The leotard does not protect her flabby cow tits and I don't think she's ever been attacked like this before. You didn't expect me to fight back, did you? Not so fucking tough now.
Kneading dough that's what I imagine. Until I work my way to the nipples, then thumb and forefinger. I try to slice them off.
"AAAARRRGGGHHHH!"
Now I'm transforming her breasts into long conical shapes She isn't happy.
"Stop" she pleads.
"What's the matter? Don't like big girls fighting?" I taunt the big bully.
I swing an uppercut right between Eighty-eight's legs, there's a nice thud as I hit the bone. I see the whites of her eyes as she collapses to her knees, hands between her legs. You could say I twatted her! LOL!
"Not laughing now?" I whisper.
Cindy and Eighty-two are rolling across the mat. Cindy gets the slag on her front, riding her back.
I grab Eighty-eight's arm, haul her up, and start swinging her. I look at Cindy, she has her opponent's arm twisted halfway up her back, viciously twisting it, getting tears from her face and starts swinging her too. We look at each other, and we both nod. This is an interview we need something spectacular.
"One, two, three" I yell out.
We release our holds at the same time. The slags tumble out of control. Their heads collide with a dull thud. They stagger back, I swear I can see their eyes crossing. Eighty-eighty stumbles straight into my swinging right fist, folding like a cheap deck chair. Eighty-two gets Cindy's straight kick to the gut, it hurts just to see it, she folds too, straight down into a right fist that finishes her off. Watching her fight, the thought occurs to me that if things ever kicked off between me and Cindy again, it might not go so well for me.
I look out again over the field of battle; fewer battles are going on and they all have slowed down. You can see the white shirts out in force. I could see Queen Kong over on the other side of the mat, pounding the face of some unfortunate girl. Around the mat, a few of the defeated candidates are sticking around to see who will win in the end. Fuck I wish I was with them. My leotard is drenched in sweat, my body aches and I'm so fucking tired.
Cindy looks away and I follow her gaze. A girl, number Twelve, circled by a pack of three other girls. They push her from girl to girl like a football, and as she reaches each girl, she gets a kick or a punch. I turn to Cindy, and she nods, I nod back.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends .
We go over to the bullying girls. I take Seventy, and Cindy gets Fifty-five. We each tap a girl on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," we sing song in unison.
They turn around, puzzled.
Then we swing, I get mine in the mouth, and Cindy headbutts Fifty-five in the belly, sending the big girl staggering back, clutching her stomach.
Twelve stops, uncertain of what just happened, and Miss Fifty is unsure without her friends to back her up. Then it dawns on Twelve that it's just her and the bully, payback time. She screams as she charges, tearing Fifty's hair, and pulling her head into Twelve s frantic punches.
I charge into Seventy, straight into a punch to the head, which stops me dead in my tracks. She s grinning.
"This is gonna be so easy". She beckons me forward, "Come and get it, Sweetums".
She swings a flurry of punches, aiming for my body, I cover up, trying to block the slag, and then I fire out a jab to the chin which rocks her head back. She swings a roundhouse swing of her right hand. I duck, then fire a straight punch into her belly. I watch as my fist sinks up to my wrist in her flabby gut. I hear the breath whoosh from her body and feel the spit, I hope it s spit, on my bare back.
She punches back and this time I catch her arm in flight, intertwining it with my left arm. Then with my right, I open fire.
Pop! - I open up her lip
Pop! - There's a nice shiner.
Pop! - Right in the kisser.
Her head is just jerking back like she's having a fit. The blood from her lips and nose covers my hand. Before she has time to return fire I release her arm sending her back.
She sends a roundhouse to my head. Smack! I feel my lips distort, my head and my body twists.
Fuck!
The slag leaps on my back. She wraps her legs around my body trapping my arms. Then I feel her arm clamp around my throat.
Double-Fuck!
Then she squeezes her legs.
"MY FUCKING RIBS!" I cry.
She s so fucking heavy. My legs struggle to hold myself and the fat fuck upright.
I see fifty-five sitting on top of Cindy bouncing up and down on her stomach and firing alternate slaps, rocking Cindy s face. I stagger over to fifty-five and stomp her on her back, Cindy fires a fist into the side of fifty-five s face and then pulls her to the side by the hair, she s on top now. Seventy tries to pull me back by the hair, but with the cornrow, no luck so she clocks me on my nose while I'm tied up, I feel the crunch and the spray of more blood.
She squeezes me again
Fucking Christ Almighty!
Then I see the black dots as the choke takes effect.
My body frantically moves from side to side trying to unseat the bitch. I fail. I feel dizzy and my legs are buckling. And the bitch is now banging on my head with her fists.
I take my chance and fall back. I could have said I did a clever backflip, but I was too fucked, so I just fall. I land with my back on top of Seventy. My elbow goes straight into her saggy boob. She cries out as I deflate that fun bag pretty fucking quickly.
Her legs and choke release like she s been electrocuted, and my next elbow clocks her on the chin.
Fifty-five comes in raising her foot for a stomp while I'm preoccupied with Seventy. I kick, and she takes both feet in the gut as she gags, stumbling back into Cindy s waiting fists.
Seventy is scrambling to get her arms around my neck again. Not gonna happen, I roll away and kick out with my feet, and she rolls back. We both scramble to our feet as quickly as we can.
She comes back at me like a drunk that's had too many special brews. She tries to wrestle me into a clinch.
I go with it as she forces my head down. She swings her fist up to punch me in the face. I try to dodge the fists, but some graze my face. I reach down and grab her leg. Then I flip her onto her back. I stand on one leg the other I pick up and twist. I want it to hurt, a lot and it does.
"AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"
She screams and she rises off her back swinging her fists to punch me, I don t take the bait ignore the fists and stomp down on her, straight in the gut.
"NNNNAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"
She s screaming and banging her hands.
"Submit!" I demand.
"Fuck off!"
I twist again and stamp on her leg for emphasis.
"NNNNAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"
From the corner of my eye, I can see a monitor looking a tad concerned, leg locks are dangerous, and you can cripple someone with them. I don t give a shit at this point, but I don t want to fuck with a monitor.
I let her up.
She comes at me with arms outstretched. She wraps her hands around my head. She s hoping to drive it into her knee. Good idea except her belly is unguarded. The first uppercut has her lifted off her feet, gasping, getting more of the slag's saliva on my back.
I fire a second one. She just opens her mouth, and the air is gone, I move back and let her slump to her knees, her arms lying uselessly at her side.
Left hook, right hook. Then a kick to the face.
Timber!
She slumps back. Finished.
A monitor comes over and counts her out and off hobbles Seventy.
Bye.
Cindy stands over an unconscious Fifty-five, she gives me a weary smile, I look around wondering what happened to the girl we rescued. The sounds of struggle have died down a lot. I see a load of girls lying on the floor, most have a paramedic, but I can only see two other girls still fighting. I do the math; One, Cindy, two, me...three, four, I smile, maybe it's over, maybe we ve made it to the final four! Why haven't the monitors called it?
Then I turn some more and see her.
Twelve is holding up Fifty's unconscious head by the hair like it's a hunting trophy, I think she'd been playing with her. She turns to face us, dropping her trophy head, carelessly. She looks like she's been in a wet leotard competition, she's a mess with blood staining her teeth, two black eyes, and bruises all over her face. When she snarls, it's like she's gone feral. I think of 'Lord of the fucking Flies'. I look at Cindy, unsure, not two-on-one.
Cindy raises her hand to me, waiving me off. She crouches, beckoning with her hands at Twelve, then, letting out a wild yell she charges, letting out an equally loud yell so does Twelve. They crash together like two trains on a track. They are spinning around in a wild dance of mutual destruction.
I stand there transfixed by the savagery of what I'm seeing. I'll put my money on Cindy.
I don't even see what hit me before everything went black.
When I come to, only Cindy and three other women are standing, looking relieved and very tired. Queen Kong lies on the mat, by my side, her eyes closed, mouth open, tongue out, dribbling. Somebody must have done her over good style. Looks like beauty killed the beast. Tee Hee.
A paramedic stood over me, she smiled.
"You've come around, good".
"I'll just give you the once over and If you're good to go you can leave, you will need to get checked out fully by our medical team and there are showers if you want, we'll be in touch".
(Yeah, please don't call us, we'll call you).
I walked past Cindy; she looked me in the eyes. "Sorry," she mouthed.
I didn t stick around; I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I fucking hurt so bad, my body ached like buggery and my fucking ribs! And nothing to show for it. I hadn t made the final four, it was snatched away at the last minute and my cunning plan came to nothing.
Nothing.
I thought of poor Thirty-two, as I cried all the way home.
Two days later and what the fuck! They called, and they wanted to see me.
I went into the office and the nice lady dressed in a business suit sat me down and started browsing her documents. She began.
"People misunderstand our interview process".
"It's not just an excuse to watch twenty girls beating each other up. To work here you must work as part of a team, we don't want a team of alpha females. In the before times, we d have just to ask you some questions and you d give us some bullshit answer. Now we can see what you re really like under pressure".
"It was never about being, (Air Quotes) in 'The Final Four'".
"That is something we changed. Originally candidates would fight until there was one winner, but those final fights would become too...intense and it was not what we were after .
"A fight is something unpredictable, random. Victory does not always go to the brave or the good or even the best fighter. Case in point the way you got blindsided by one-two-zero."
(Queen Fucking Kong! Shoulda known!)
"She got quite impressively and thoroughly trounced by Ten, and we have already offered Ten a position here. But it wasn't because she got to the 'Final Four'."
"We don t care about who wins the fight, but how you fight, that's what we want to see".
"We saw how you and Ten fought; we were very impressed with how you put your differences aside and worked together. We knew about your fight for the internship, it was, and I quote 'one of the most hard-fought matches we have ever seen'. This is exactly what we want, people who fight hard for what they want but who still can work together after the dust settles".
"Also, you adapted your fighting style to your opponent, and you didn't fight dirty until your opponent did..."
She then smirked
"...and when you did you certainly lived up to your nickname..."
"...Titkiller!"
I started stammering.
She looked me straight in the eye.
"I like it".
(This is going to follow me around forever, I fucking know it. It'll be on my tombstone "Here lies Titkiller")
"Thirdly, we were also impressed by the way you didn't bully or gang up on opponents. You always punched up rather than punched down..."
"...Literally".
She smiled, well pleased with that joke.
"Too many people think that because this is the MSE the job should go to the toughest alpha bitch. We disagree. We are not like those 'pinnies'. We want candidates who will talk, and cooperate, first. And only use their fists as a last resort but when they do use them effectively".
"Catherine Browne we'd like to offer you a position at LYM".
Fuck me backwards! It worked!
"Oh, and don t worry if you get challenged over the decision. It does happen".
"Remember as an LYM Employee you will be able to use a Company Champion, free to all employees. You saw the monitors?"
I nodded.
"I've used them before, these conflicts are resolved, very...quickly".
"Goodbye, I hope to hear from you soon".
I walked out into the sunshine. It was going to be a good day after all.
Maybe I'll take the job, who am I kidding? Course I will.
It's good when your dad is a psychologist. Did I tell you my dad s a psychologist? That's how I knew so much about Dunning-Kruger, which I'm sure you found fascinating.
But he also knows a lot about the latest interview techniques.
As he explained to me, you still have your 'dogfight' interviews, city trading, sales, and stuff like that. However, many employers have leveraged the MSE philosophy for better employee selection, like LYM. He's never consulted for them, so no conflict of interest. But he had contacts, and he explained to me what they were after.
And then I had to think of a way to demonstrate it.
I thought a lot about Cindy.
I never talked to her after the fight not until I met her at the Milkround.
But I thought about why she had fought so hard, why she made me hurt her so badly. Then it hit me as I watched her one day, furiously scribbling her notes during a lecture, hanging on to every word the lecturer said. We were a lot alike, we both loved the subject, the science. There are only two reasons you'd fight that hard; you truly hated the person you were fighting (unlikely, she'd never met me) or you were fighting for something you truly loved.
Like me.
She was a lot like me.
When I saw her at the Milkround, I realised she would grant my favour, because it's what I would do.
I also knew that if the interviewers saw us work together, they would wet their fucking panties.
I knew she would agree.
Because that's what I would do.
And there was the Ben Franklin Effect. 'Performing a favour for someone can lead to the development of positive feelings towards them' Yeah it's a real thing, go google it. I'll wait.
I walked out of the interview, and there she was, waiting for me outside.
"Hey you," she said.
"Hey you" I replied.
I bought you a coffee she said handing it to me. We looked like two high-class businesswomen, discussing whatever bullshit high-class businesswomen discussed. We were of course both wearing sunglasses. Yep, I know that women with black eyes aren t uncommon in MSE-world, but this is a job interview, so you make the effort to look good.
"Your cunning plan worked out well" she complimented me.
"Yeah, I'm glad, we made a good team"
"We did, and now it looks like we're gonna be working together"
"Yeah"
"Did you..." I asked. (I've got to know).
"Beat the fuck out of One-twenty 'cos she blindsided you or because she attacked me first?" She interrupted and paused melodramatically, "Or maybe both".
"Yes". I asked.
She smiles, enigmatically.
"I'll let you decide".
(I'm going for option three, but I'd like to think one).
Awkward silence as we ponder the elephant in the room.
"I'm sorry. " I started.
"Look", she stopped me, "I wanted that internship real bad. I would have happily pounded you into a pink mush and have had you eating through a straw for the rest of your life and not lost any sleep over it if that got me the internship".
"But I didn't, you beat me. I'd never fought anyone before and facing you 'The Titkiller' I was petrified".
(I know).
"But fighting you made me realise how hard I could fight for something I wanted".
"You sure could fight," I said.
"So, I did some training..."
"...and the next bitch who tried to take something I wanted..."
"...I kicked her fucking ass!"
Smiling broadly, she looked me in the eye.
"And now I have the job I always wanted and one day I'll sleep under the Aurora".
"Borealis or Australis? " I asked.
"Fucking both!" She declared.
Adding, "You've changed my life for the better. I want to thank you for that".
She held out her hand.
I shook it, warmly.
Remember how I once said I could respect her, but we would never be friends?
I was wrong about that, and I'm glad I was wrong.
So, you're going to ask the question, why did I do it?
Maybe I cynically used the Ben Franklin Effect on Cindy to make me look good and get the job.
Maybe I did it because I felt bad about beating the shit out of her and taking the internship.
Maybe both.
I'll let you decide.
