Chapter 5 - The Weight of a Resume
For five agonizing seconds, nobody spoke. The silence in Conference Room B was so heavy that Ethan could hear the frantic beating of his own heart against his ribs.
Antoine slowly lowered the resume onto the mahogany table. He didn't look angry; his expression was entirely neutral, which somehow made it ten times more terrifying.
"Take a seat, Mr. Miller," Antoine said quietly, gesturing to the empty chair directly across from him.
Ethan swallowed hard, his squeaky patent leather shoes making an embarrassingly loud squeak-squeak sound as he shuffled forward and lowered himself into the leather chair. His electric-blue jacket felt suddenly tight, suffocating his chest.
"I... I wasn't expecting to see you here," Ethan stammered, his polished influencer charm evaporating into thin air.
"Obviously," Antoine replied smoothly. He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table. "Let’s review your application, shall we? According to your resume, you graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration from State University with a 3.8 GPA."
Ethan’s palms began to sweat profusely against his thighs. "Ah... well, you see, the transcript department at the university is notoriously slow with digital updates, so technically..."
"Technically," Antoine interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the weight of absolute authority, "the university registrar's office confirmed to our HR department this morning that you dropped out in your third semester after failing introductory microeconomics."
Ethan’s face drained of color. The bright blue of his suit jacket seemed to mock him. "I... I can explain that. I had personal family circumstances—"
"Let's skip the personal circumstances, Mr. Miller," Antoine continued smoothly, sliding a second piece of paper across the table. "Let's talk about your professional experience. You claim here that you successfully managed digital marketing campaigns for three major lifestyle brands, generating over two million dollars in consumer engagement."
"Yes! Exactly!" Ethan jumped at the lifeline, his voice pitching upward in desperate enthusiasm. "I’m a digital native! I understand consumer psychology, viral trends, algorithmic scaling—"
"We contacted those three brands," Antoine said calmly, leaning forward slightly. "Two of them are defunct drop-shipping shell companies registered out of overseas P.O. boxes. The third brand manager had never heard your name, though she did mention that someone matching your description tried to steal free product samples from their warehouse last summer."
The room grew so cold that Ethan felt goosebumps rise along his arms. He looked toward the two senior executives sitting beside Antoine, hoping to find a shred of sympathy, but they stared at him with cold, clinical indifference.
"Mr. Miller," Antoine said, his dark eyes boring straight through Ethan's soul. "You built an entire lifestyle on pretending to be someone you're not. You stood in a public parking lot trying to impress strangers with a car you didn't own, using lies to feed an ego that has zero foundation in reality."
Ethan gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. Humiliation, hot and stinging, rushed up his neck and flushed his cheeks bright red.
"Why are you doing this?" Ethan whispered, his voice cracking. "Are you just here to ruin my life because of what happened in the parking lot?"
Antoine leaned back, his expression softening just a fraction—not with pity, but with a quiet, pedagogical firmness.
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"I didn't ruin your life, Ethan. You did that yourself the moment you decided that deception was easier than hard work," Antoine said, standing up from his chair. "The interview is over. I suggest you take this electric-blue suit back to the rental shop, delete your fake social media accounts, and start learning what it actually means to earn something honestly."
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