Curses (Part 1)

After checking my inbox, I was left with a positive surprise: The letter that I'd expected arrived one day early. It not only contained an address, a name and a notice that the 'contact' would be expecting me to reach out, the crows furthermore added an overview of the contact's former tasks at Hedge Funding.

After whistling (hey, as well as a turtle can) at the considerable sum that the invoice was demanding, I stored the bill away in a safe spot. I'd need to claim reimbursement later on. Hey, if they want me to do things for them and don't want to honour my work, then I'll make sure they are liable for the expenses.

After a quick breakfast, I equipped my tank shell (in case the interviewee has anger issues, you never know) and put on one of my hats for a more professional appearance. I also took one of my notebook-thingies that I can attach to my left foreleg. Gotta take this one seriously. Then figured that things might take longer than I expect, so I also packed water and lunch (and a snack bar).

Left the house and took the elephant express, which is our form of public transport. Think of a bus, but cool. With enjoyable view. And 'severe' punishment should you manage to annoy the driver.

It's interesting to note that all the elephants are self-employed. They walk their preferred routes, but most of them stick to routes they like. Occasionally, two elephants switch routes, probably to spice up their otherwise mundane work. See something new n stuff. They have to pay a bit of money to the elephant transportation union for their license, which is used for customer support and station maintenance. Then some to rent their 'saddle', which is a wooden platform with some nooks and safety measures.

While it's possible for the elephants to build and wear their own saddles, it's discouraged. Mostly due to safety reasons, if someone falls off of a custom construction, then the transportation union won't represent you in court.

Due to being self-employed, elephants have great freedom when it comes to how they do their job. They can invoke specific rules you have to abide by. They decide how much you'll have to pay for the fare, most use the size of the patron to determine the ticket price.

All in all, a fairly nice concept that leads to moderate prices (if it's too high, then nobody will take the ride and the elephant won't earn any money) and polite costumers. I've been told that it's a decent occupation, one that can lead to comfortable living conditions and provide for kids.

Took about 20 minutes (probably close to two hours of walking) to reach the provided address. The property had a small, about 2 meters wide, well-groomed lawn with some rocks (dark grey with a tinge of red) paving the way towards the front door. A beautiful flower bed was neatly tucked away before a rather tall hedge, which signified the border between properties on the right-hand side. The house itself was about as tall as my own and made of wood, therefore kept in a light brown colour, with the front door painted in a pleasant green.

A doorbell was located on the left of the letter box, so I walked up, rang and waited. And waited. I rang again.

Maybe the employee grew deaf and thus couldn't complete their job anymore, which lead to them getting fired? Maybe she lost a leg in an accident and thus couldn't come to work anymore? I felt like reasonable reasons for job termination wouldn't be Hedge Funding's style though, so I discarded those thoughts. Just gonna wait a little while longer.

After about four minutes of waiting, the door finally opened. A female porcupine appeared and angrily yelled: "The flowers are not for sale!", giving me a penetrating stare before turning to slam the door shut.

Turtles are renowned for being very fast, and I was exemplary in doing justice to turtle values in this instance. Before either of us knew what was going on, I had already interrupted her actions by replying:

"Excuse me, I'm here for the interview about Hedge Funding and their inconsiderate treatment!"

She froze, turned back to face me and showed an amiable, albeit scary, smile, before cheerfully inviting me inside.

Finally having the chance to take a good look at the animal I was trying to interview, all I can say is that she left quite the impression: Her face was dominated by a long and fairly ugly scar across her right eye, leaving the eye blind. She had the porcupine equivalent of dimples, a big mouth and a complete set of teeth, something that she intentionally displayed.

This left the impression of talking to a predator, a ferocious and battle-hardened veteran, who'd gladly rip your head off while porcupine-smiling. It was impossible for me to guess her age. After she turned around, I could see that the tips of her quills were coloured in shades of blood-red. She instilled discomfort with her incredibly fierce bearing.

We reached what I presumed to be the living room, where she pointed me towards a comfortable-looking white blanket (that had tiny dolphins embroidered, cute!) and took a seat on a mighty armchair. The backrest was considerably damaged, but she didn't seem to care much. The seat itself gave way to her weight, making her sink slowly as if she were lying in water or oil. Then she capsized and stopped halfway, resulting in a very awkward posture. After coming to a rest and appearing to be content with her position, she motioned me to speak.

"My employer has recently come in contact with the peculiar way of business that Hedge Funding exercises. They were utterly unprepared and their venture failed spectacularly. Now they sent me to figure out where they went wrong, what to expect from the greedy bank and how to take preventive measures for future endeavours. To make this less awkward, how may I address you?"

I made sure to emphasize that my opinion of said employer wasn't too high. I also tried to be as vague as possible, without appearing dishonest. Definitely didn't want this savage-looking brawler to get upset. I think I managed to do that fairly well. I also put my notes down and placed them in a particular way, allowing her to read what I was writing. Transparency!

She didn't pay any attention to what I was doing, focussed on some picture behind me instead, almost as if she were some kind of god-empress. She then moved her right foreleg upwards and casually replied, her voice remaining in a carefree tone: "They call me Quills."

The first thought I was capable of forming after hearing that was 'Uhh', followed by '…'. I was at a loss for words. That's like calling me 'Shell', a bird 'Feathers' or a horse 'Scales'… wait.

My brain, currently under maintenance due to turmoil, spontaneously cooked up the tactful reply of:

"That's a fitting name.", something that I'm still proud of.

I had the feeling that she was rather pleased with my reaction. After allowing my mind to cool down a little, the unexpected strain coupled with the subconscious fear of misspeaking really messed me up there, I began to add words together in the hope of forming sentences that sounded professional.

Overcoming the existential fear of becoming pincushion turtle despite tank shell, I commenced with the interview.