D
Domotoro
Guest
Whaling companies have various arduous processes to endure in order to maintain an untarnished reputation within Dunwall, that being said, a Rothwild business interviewer and recorder was possibly the most arduous tasks of all, since the questions were so outlandish and un-needed, especially the way they must be provided. Billith Sawshe was one of those people who must carry out those tasks.
"Next employee, if you will." Billith called out as his most recent interviewee left the grungy broom closet of an office. A rather robust man tromped his way into the room, and plopped himself down with a working mans sigh.
"Good day to you, mister ah- Jack McShay, you are here for your annual business records, please answer each question in only on word, and be as thoughtful and riveting as you can." Billith trilled, he waited for no response before asking.
"What is your profession?"
Jack immediately answered. "Harpooner."
"What is your favorite thing about your profession?" Billith asked next, scratching down jacks responses.
Once again, Jack answered swiftly. "Money."
"What do you like the least?" Billith was sure to get a pause here, most employees tried not to tread on the managerial toes of the Rothwild family.
Jack chuckled to himself before answering. "You." Well, that actually stung a bit, Billith merely wrote down what he had heard and prepared his next inquiry.
"What do you wear to work?"
Jack rolled his eyes as he picked at his shirt dramatically, displaying his workman's uniform.
"Ah-ah-ah, one word answers Mister McShay."
Jack furrowed his brow for only a moment before answering, "Slickers." Billith was versed in sea-mans lingo to know that was the term for wet clothing.
"Why?"
"Inevitability" Jack said, a smile showing a rather clean mouth despite his profession.
"What do you wear to play?" Billith sighed, Jack was his last man for his quota, and he simply wanted to enjoy a nice brandy and maybe a woman at the golden cat.
"Nothin'!" Jack said, with a knee slap and a hefty chuckle. Billith wondered if he was thinking about the Golden Cat too.
"Why?"
"Easier!" Jack said, still caught on the same joke.
"What do you like to do in your free time?" Billith asked regrettably, if he hears another vulgar innuendo he may just fail the man right then and there.
"Drink." Jack answered, his previous behavior dying down.
"Who do you share this activity with?" Billith asked, only one question to go before he can forget all of the ignorami rabble he had interviewed for the past five hours.
Jack shrugged his beefy shoulders, "Mates."
"There's a dragon rampaging around the countryside, How do you capture it?" Billith trilled once more, ready to go.
"Now what kind o' question is that?" Jack said, as if Billith was insane.
"Just answer it you uneducated bilge rat, so I may finally leave this wretched office and return to my flat!" Billiths' shrill voice echoed almost throughout the now empty halls of the whale butchering plant.
"Pain." Jack growled, sliding out his axe and standing up.
Interviewer Billith turned in his resignation letter later that day, passing Jack Hennesy McShay with a perfect score. Although Billith himself was never seen leaving the Whaling Yards since the interviews.
"Next employee, if you will." Billith called out as his most recent interviewee left the grungy broom closet of an office. A rather robust man tromped his way into the room, and plopped himself down with a working mans sigh.
"Good day to you, mister ah- Jack McShay, you are here for your annual business records, please answer each question in only on word, and be as thoughtful and riveting as you can." Billith trilled, he waited for no response before asking.
"What is your profession?"
Jack immediately answered. "Harpooner."
"What is your favorite thing about your profession?" Billith asked next, scratching down jacks responses.
Once again, Jack answered swiftly. "Money."
"What do you like the least?" Billith was sure to get a pause here, most employees tried not to tread on the managerial toes of the Rothwild family.
Jack chuckled to himself before answering. "You." Well, that actually stung a bit, Billith merely wrote down what he had heard and prepared his next inquiry.
"What do you wear to work?"
Jack rolled his eyes as he picked at his shirt dramatically, displaying his workman's uniform.
"Ah-ah-ah, one word answers Mister McShay."
Jack furrowed his brow for only a moment before answering, "Slickers." Billith was versed in sea-mans lingo to know that was the term for wet clothing.
"Why?"
"Inevitability" Jack said, a smile showing a rather clean mouth despite his profession.
"What do you wear to play?" Billith sighed, Jack was his last man for his quota, and he simply wanted to enjoy a nice brandy and maybe a woman at the golden cat.
"Nothin'!" Jack said, with a knee slap and a hefty chuckle. Billith wondered if he was thinking about the Golden Cat too.
"Why?"
"Easier!" Jack said, still caught on the same joke.
"What do you like to do in your free time?" Billith asked regrettably, if he hears another vulgar innuendo he may just fail the man right then and there.
"Drink." Jack answered, his previous behavior dying down.
"Who do you share this activity with?" Billith asked, only one question to go before he can forget all of the ignorami rabble he had interviewed for the past five hours.
Jack shrugged his beefy shoulders, "Mates."
"There's a dragon rampaging around the countryside, How do you capture it?" Billith trilled once more, ready to go.
"Now what kind o' question is that?" Jack said, as if Billith was insane.
"Just answer it you uneducated bilge rat, so I may finally leave this wretched office and return to my flat!" Billiths' shrill voice echoed almost throughout the now empty halls of the whale butchering plant.
"Pain." Jack growled, sliding out his axe and standing up.
Interviewer Billith turned in his resignation letter later that day, passing Jack Hennesy McShay with a perfect score. Although Billith himself was never seen leaving the Whaling Yards since the interviews.
