My Pick Up Artist System
chapter-156

People called New York City the media capital of the world, and for good reason. It housed some of the planet's largest newspapers, publishing houses, record companies, television studios, and selfie spots...

It was the largest media market in North America that wasn't the online p.o.r.n industry…

However, since the media immorally blacklisted p.o.r.n...like it was a clean politician who didn't take lobbyist money…New York was number one, "officially."

...

On a bright morning, in the middle of this metallic metropolis, Ben stood still in the center of a busy sidewalk. Various business people and pedestrians passed around him in both directions, but he was frozen in awe, gazing upwards at an unbelievable magical building. At this colossal presence, his eyes shined like a country hick entering the city for the first time. 'This is my future. Incredible…'

It was a two-floor Chipotle.

…

His eyes refused to blink, as if afraid it would disappear...

Sighing, he understood how little he'd seen of the world. 'I've only seen them with one floor…'

***

After a delightful breakfast, Ben walked across the street to the building he'd be interviewing in—the Hearth Tower—a feat of architecture and human ingenuity.

The outside was a blend of classical and modern; The first four stories were an early 20th-century design of yellow bricks, which extended upward into a much taller glass tower of unusual triangular framing. It looked like a glass house of cards--a perfect summary for Kevin Spacey's career.

...

Once again, Ben gazed upwards at an unbelievable magical building. 'This one's alright.'

…

Walking inside, he observed the multi-story ceilings, making the space feel like a cathedral. As he reached the escalators, he noticed the one going up was out of service, and read a sign posted to its side: "Escalator not working—temporarily stairs."

…

Ben shook his head. 'Even on vacation, the escalator's still forced to work.'

…

Providing support by patting it on its black shoulder-railing…Ben walked upstairs.

After going through security, he approached the elevator, and made sure there was no similar sign reading, "Not working elevator—temporarily coffin."

…

As he took the packed elevator up to the designated floor, Ben's heartbeat sped up. This was an incredible opportunity that the talisman created for him, beyond merely making money to pay off his credit cards. In any other situation, it would be almost impossible for a freshman like him to get a chance at such a prestigious company. Yet, here he was.

Knowing he needed to put on an incredible performance to get hired, he focused his mind. At his floor, Ben paced out of the elevator with powerful confident steps. 'Walk with boldness, never look back…'

Behind him, half a dozen people were cringing, wondering who farted.

…

Meanwhile, Ben beefwalked into the distance… 'Don't look back. Let them consume each other…'

Like a game of Clue, the elevator's passengers all eyed each other with suspicion.

…

No matter what though, when those elevator doors closed, no one was spared from their dark destiny of the gas chamber.

…

As the smoke stacks rose behind him…Ben reached the reception desk. He spoke with the secretary, indicating his arrival, and sat down in the waiting area among many other applicants.

Looking around, he frowned. Everyone else wore expensive-looking business attire. Meanwhile, he looked down at his clothes: an off-brand white dress shirt, dark slacks, and dress shoes he borrowed from his dad.

Ben didn't have time to go shopping and didn't even own a tie. 'Am I underdressed?' More nervous now, he wiped his sweaty palms on his lap, and kept his head down.

After staring at his legs a while, he found some confidence. 'It's okay. Even if the clothes don't make the man, the hose can make the man…'

In the darkness, Ben found faith…in the phallus.

…

"Benjamin Romero?" When a cold female voice announced his name, he looked up, and saw a beautiful woman at the door of the interview room.

She wore a s.e.xy professional ensemble of a dark woman's suit and skirt with black stockings and heels. Her brown shoulder-length hair, glasses, and indifferent expression also generated a unique aura. It was purple.

...

As she gazed around the interviewees for a response, she adjusted her glasses, giving the impression of an intelligent career-oriented woman, who needed better-fitting glasses.

...

"Benjamin Romero?"

Hearing her call his name again, Ben snapped out of his trance, which in reality, was a staring contest with her n.i.p.p.l.es...

"It's me." He stood up.

Looking him up and down, the woman narrowed her eyes a bit, as if disapproving of his appearance. "Come with me."

She led him into an interview room, where after handing out copies of his resume, he sat down at one end of a large white oval conference table, opposite three older gentlemen, who soon introduced themselves as the managers conducting the interview. As for the cold woman, she grabbed a seat at the far end of the table, and turned silent.

The first manager was an elderly man with curly gray hair and square black-rimmed glasses. He held Ben's resume in his hand, reading it over.

The second was a balding overweight middle-aged man with brown hair at his temples. He wore a pleasant smile and nodded to Ben, introducing himself as Bob. Ben knew him to be the friend of Professor Harisson who called asking for recommendations.

The third man was middle-aged with parted short black hair and a stern face. When he glanced at the resume, and then at Ben, he showed a deep frown, and spoke his reservations without a care. "Isn't he too young? 18 year old freshman? I didn't know we were recruiting useless applicants like this...and how about this appearance? Short, average looks, he'll never be suitable for on-camera. Why is he here? Isn't this a waste of time?" He looked at Ben with pure disdain…

When Ben heard such open contempt, his heart descended to the lobby. He was already nervous when he entered, and now, for the interviewer to ridicule him in the open…

Ben couldn't help clenching his fists… 'Did I come here just to be humiliated?'

His chest became overloaded with disappointment, painful memories, and also—a rising anger!