The Voice From on High

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright 2011 Plot Roach.

The Voice From on High
By Plot Roach

Getting a job in this economy is hard. Getting a job that pays all your bills is even harder. And getting a job that does all that plus benefits, is damn near impossible. I’m a single mom, with two kids, trying to reenter the workforce with three years of “mommy” time and little in the way of actual employment experience. So when a friend told me about a job opening that would cover my bills, ask for little in the way of experience and even less as far as credentials, he had my full attention. It seemed like an answer to my prayers.

I heard about it through my friend, Mark. He had his ears to the grapevine as far as jobs went, because he was always looking for a better job. The man changed jobs more often than underwear, and I was surprised when his perspective employers looked past his patchwork resume during the interview and hired him (usually on the spot). He was the king of “the grass is always greener on the other side” mentality, and it showed. He changed his mind often when ordering at restaurants, having a custom suit made or ordering movies on demand. He could just never stick to his choices.

So it was no surprise when he found the job listing, only when he passed it on to me. “Why didn’t you go for it?” I asked one day over lunch.

“I interviewed for it, but they said that I didn’t fit the profile.”

“That’s weird, you always win them over in the interview.”

“Yeah, I know. But they said that they were looking for someone with more stability. Someone with ‘common sense and good people skills.‘”

“So I guess the resume was your death warrant, huh?”

“It seems likely, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t try out for it.”

“I’ve been out of commission for three years, Mark. You know what that says? It says that I’m out of touch with the world.”

“You were taking care of your kids, that says stability and common sense to me, kid.”

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence as Mark ate bits and pieces from three different plates he had ordered, while I ate sparingly from a cheap chef’s salad. I promised him I would put in a resume for the job, but I didn’t think it would be worth the paper. There had to be dozens of people more qualified for the job. What made me so different as to stand out?

But I kept my promise, sent off a resume and a follow up email. Much to my surprise, less than a week later, I was called in. I dressed in something nice, but not too flashy. I had to travel by bus, since the car was in the shop, and didn’t feel like getting mugged just because I had to walk through the bad part of town to get there and back home. I arrived fifteen minutes early, took my time in the restroom checking my reflection and tried to think of what questions that they would ask me and what my answers would be. Interviewing for a job is a lot like participating in a game show from hell. They get to ask you the hard questions, and if you fail, not only do you make a fool out of yourself, but there’s no consolation prize short of hurt feelings and sore feet from stiff, new shoes.

I arrived at the main office, ten minutes to spare, and was told to wait to be called in. I tried not to stare at the clock, pick at the cuticles of my nails or exhibit any other rude behavior that was a sign of tension. Finally I dragged a scrap piece of paper out of my purse along with a pen, and started to make notes of where else to apply and what other errands I should run in the next few days. A few minutes into this, I was called in by a voice from on high. It startled me, until I realized that it came form a speaker positioned right over my head. I smiled at the receptionist, feeling like a fool. And wandered into the back interviewing office.

It was a nice place, filled with a long table and many beige upholstered chairs. The man there was an older gentleman, who gave the appearance of being kindly though not overly unprofessional. He gestured to a seat next to him and I made the long walk down the room, studying the dark carpeting as I walked and hoping the entire time that I would not trip and fall. I reached the chair next to him and sank into it thankfully, my heart thudding in my chest. I had practiced many times, in front of a mirror, the things I would say and how I would say them, but nothing truly prepares you for the real face to face stuff.

“I trust that you found us alright?” he asked, after a moment’s pause to let me get settled.

“Yes, sir. The receptionist gave wonderful directions and I also checked them against an online map.”

“Why did you feel the need to check her introductions against another source?”

Oh, crap I thought. I’ve screwed up this interview already. “Sometimes there are changes that can’t be accounted for from one day to the next. Like, what if one of the streets she told me to use was closed for an emergency. I would like to know an alternate route just in case.” I said.

“That’s good.” he said, nodding and looking over my resume. “It shows initiative and follow through. Now tell me about the span of three years when you didn’t have a job.”

Here we go, I thought. The first cutthroat question. “I was busy raising my children.” I said. “Though I never really left the workforce, as I kept a part time business on the side.”

“And that was?”

“Independent consulting. Those around me sometimes have problems that they can’t fix. Anything from small problems which should have been easily fixed, like when one product has been ordered and something different was shipped. To major mess-ups like when a professional violates his contract and refuses to refund the money or complete his task. It started with close personal friends and then expanded by word of mouth.”

“And why are you no longer doing this?”

“I found that with two swiftly growing boys, that I need more financial resources, sir.”

“I have one more question for you.” He said, pulling out a remote control and turning on a video screen. On the screen it showed me rummaging around in my purse, only to retrieve the pen and paper and start making a list. “What were you doing?”

“Occupying my time by making lists while I was waiting.”

“Why?”

“It seemed like a waste of time to just sit there and stare at the clock, when I could be doing something constructive until I was called in to my interview.”

“Good.” was all he said. He turned off the monitor and set the remote to the side. I was certain he would dismiss me then and there, but was pleasantly surprised when he began talking about the job that I was interviewing for. “I know that you are aware of the pay and benefits, but did anyone let you know about your responsibilities with our little company?”

“No, Sir. I was just told by a friend who found your ad that you were looking for a dependable person with common sense and people skills.”

“And do you think you have what it takes to work in this position?”

“Could you give me an example of what I’ll be facing, sir?”

“Let’s say that a person has contacted our company because they are unhappy with a particular product we offer. How would you handle that?”

“Get the person’s name, address, phone and email. Get the product type or model number. Ask when they purchased it, why they are unsatisfied and any other questions that I can think of to get to the bottom of why they are unhappy with the product and what we, the company, could do to make amends. Like a refund or maybe an exchange.”

“Now what would you do if I told you that we offer no product, yet people come to us with their problems on a daily basis? Some of them quite often.”

“Why are we talking to them if it’s someone else’s product, shouldn’t we reroute their calls to the manufacturer?”

“That’s the problem, the manufacturer cannot be contacted. And to be honest, the customer hasn’t really ‘bought’ anything, but needs our help coping, none the less.”

“Could you give me a better example, sir?”

“In a nutshell: we work for God -or, rather, for a conglomeration of the ‘Big Ones’ (i.e. the ones that still have followers). But they can’t handle all the problems of their mortal followers, so they need us to field their calls -or, prayers.”

“And how do we do that, sir?”

“I’m glad you asked.” he said, pulling out a small device that looked like a black keyboard connected to a screen the size of number ten billing envelope. He turned the screen on, and a message flashed at once: “Why do bad things happen to good people? Why did my Aunt Sarah have to die of cancer?”.

The man hissed and pushed the machine away from himself -and over to me. “This is a hard one. I can’t tell you how many times a day something like this shows up. And it never gets any easier to answer. Would you like to take a crack at it?”

“Well, I would tell the person-”

“Don’t tell me, write it down. This is your first test.”

So I swung the machine into a better position and wrote: “Bad things happen to both the good and the bad people of this world. And sometimes when a person dies there is no real meaning to why we lost them. However, some people live -and die- to show us that things like love, courage and hope can exist no matter how much hardship we must endure in order to teach those around us. And make the world a better place.”

The man swung the machine around and reviewed my message. “A little wordy, but it will do, given the circumstances.” he said before hitting the “send” button.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now the little girl who just lost her Aunt Sarah will get her response. Though she knelt at her bedside to pray to us, we cannot contact her directly, but do so through a manner of situations. One is through her dreams, another would be through the sympathetic words a friend or family member tells her -your words, placed there in the mind.”

“How can we do all this?”

“A few of the Big Ones got together and swapped magic and technology in order to make it easier on all of them. Now its up to their mortal servants to make sure that the masses are kept happy or else they stop getting worshiped and are left to rot in the sands of time.”

“Who are the Big Ones?”

“I can’t say for sure, mostly because they can change often. But I’m pretty sure that you pray to at least one of them when one of your sons is ill or injured. So they’re closer to you than you think. Are you willing to take on the job -I think you would do wonderfully.”

“How can I be the voice of a god? I’m just and out of work mother!”

“As a mother, you have common sense that has kept yourself and your children alive. People skills you have to have in spades if you’ve gotten this far in life -especially as a single mother. And as for responsibility, I have no doubt that you will fulfill your duties here as you have shown me just now.”

“I’m still not sure… I mean, I’m playing with someone’s life -aren’t I?”

“When someone’s prayer goes wrong, and we can’t help them. It is up to you to make sense out of their loss and help them see the brighter side of things. Nothing more or less.”

“So I end up telling them what they need to hear?”

“No, my dear. You will give them hope.”