He had realised by now that memorising things isn’t the real education. And never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine that he would be rendered jobless for almost 6 months after completing his post-graduation. Something that had made his parents proud. Parents’ happiness dwindled away after a month, and the condition deteriorated by each passing day as all his friends ended up somewhere or the other and were already bringing home the bacon.
Lucky shirt, lucky pants, lucky footwear, and lucky files were all matters of the past as they didn’t prove to bring any amount of luck into his life. He certainly could sense the change in him, he was growing increasingly grumpy with each failed interview and his hatred towards humanity was going up the barometer unstoppably.
“Can you sell this pen to me?” Asked the interviewer gazing into his eyes in a put on stern tone. It was a 1 dollar shitty pen, which was quite visible from its outwardly appearance. Iqbal kept staring at the pen as the interviewer kept spinning the pen between his fingers expecting a spontaneous answer. “Whose pen is this?” Asked Iqbal, as that was the only reply that came to his mind at that moment. “It is of course mine,” answered the interviewer a little surprised by the unexpected question. “Then why do you want me to sell that to you?” Countered Iqbal looking into the eyes of the interviewer.
They gazed at each other blankly for a couple of seconds filling the room with absolute silence, and after an uncomfortable awkwardness the interviewer with a sarcastic smile bent forward from his executive chair and said, “let us say it is your pen, not mine,” handing over the pen to Iqbal, and continued, “now sell this pen to me.” Iqbal took the pen in his hand, and after a quick and careful inspection of it asked, “how much is the cost price of this pen, and how much is the selling price?” “Mmmmmm let us say the CP is $10 and SP is $15,” answered the interviewer instantly. “If I am able to sell this pen to you, and by God’s grace if I get this job, would you be my boss I will be working under?” Asked Iqbal with utmost clarity in speech. “You got that right,” replied the interviewer proudly as he slid back in his comfortable executive chair.
“When I entered this room I noticed that you were making a lot of notes with this mighty pen. You got a better pen with you, which I can try selling to you?” Asked Iqbal. “This is the only pen I got, and this is what you need to sell to me if you want the job you have applied for,” answered the interviewer slightly annoyed at the pace at which Iqbal was handling the situation. “You got any shop near this building where I can buy a better pen and try selling that to you?” Asked Iqbal with utmost composure. “No! There is a stationery shop 1 km from here, and I don’t have time for that. And for God’s sake don’t waste my time now, I got to interview others as well for the same Sales Manager position. Now you either sell it or leave it,” answered the interviewer fuming.
“I am sorry, I am just incapable of handling the pressure….I would rather leave,” replied Iqbal and collected himself to leave. “Can you return my pen,” asked the interviewer. “Your pen? No!! It is mine, that is what you said,” replied Iqbal as he is just about to open the exit door to leave. “And if you want it, it is $20 or you can waste your time, travel 1 km and buy a new one for yourself. Take it or leave it.” Added Iqbal. The interviewer didn’t like the arrogance Iqbal was showing but he loved his attitude. “That is quite interesting,” replied the interviewer. “That makes you the most probable candidate for the position you applied for,” the interviewer added with a smile. Iqbal walked towards the table, stretched his right hand and placed the pen close to the interviewer and said, “that indeed is very kind of you. But then I honestly feel you should consider someone else for the position, because I cannot work under someone who isn’t smarter than me.”
A furious interviewer looked on as the arrogant Iqbal left the room closing the door behind his back.