Conundrum
“The personality test portion of your evaluation, uh, well, it displayed an error.”
The man—Dixon Powell, Head of Actuarial Employment for the Gorman Group, a company that prided itself on integrating technology with empathy—stood over her, his wavy dark hair covering his ears as his shadow covered the surface of the table.
At four-foot-eleven, Ellys was used to being the shortest in any room, but the way he engulfed the office, she felt like she was sitting at kindergarten-level height. The lack of windows in the room underscored the claustrophobic setup.
“An error?” she asked, sitting up as straight in the chair as she could.
“Affirmative. The program said your evaluation could not be completed with the information you provided. A code 327.4xFQ* or, well, anyway, there isn’t a precise explanation for the error, but I have seen it occur when there are too many contradictions.”
“Contradictions,” Ellys repeated.
“Indeed,” said Dixon Powell. “Perhaps you chose answers that don’t coincide. You’re not a match for any of the options or you selected your answers randomly, which led to the result of inconclusive or, uh, an error.”
“I could try taking it again,” Ellys offered, running her hand through her shoulder-length auburn hair.
Dixon Powell paused, adjusting the glasses on his nose. “Regardless of the cause, you don’t belong here with us.”
“Even though I’ve put in the work? Proven that I can do the job? I’ve been here for three years and have been promoted twice.”
“Computers don’t lie. It’s all right here. Black and white.”
“But you don’t even know the error,” said Ellys. “Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with my answers. Maybe it wasn’t psychological. Maybe it was electrical or mechanical. Maybe it malfunctioned.”
“There’s no malfunction,” he scoffed. “The computer is intended to remove all human bias. What it says goes.”
“But it was inconclusive. You said so yourself.”
“Ah, but in its inconclusion, the answer is clear. If it’s not a yes, it’s a no.” Dixon Powell was practically smiling at the statement he seemed to think was profound.
“And we must now ask you to pack up your things. You have five minutes to do so before you are escorted out of the building.”
The Gorman Group. No soft skills needed.
She had just been fired over a computer error. An error no one could explain, yet an inconclusion was considered a solid conclusion.
As she walked back to her desk to pack up her things—her sweater, some mints, her lunch, and her purse—she was a mix of confused and relieved. Who would want to work for a company that handled people in such a haphazard way? Without logic or empathy.
Although, as she thought about it more, the company hired people similarly. Their resume system hacked people into pieces and put them back together into a short summary that left out their humanity, which often led to the Gorman Group never interviewing the best candidates. They were tossed out on one technicality or another, and Ellys had pointed that out on a few occasions.
She thought she had been lucky to make it past the system. But maybe that had been an error too.
Unclear about her next career move, but not entirely sad to leave the Gorman Group, she waved goodbye to her coworkers. A few ventured quick waves back but most kept their heads down, staring at their computers.
Following the security guard to the glass elevator with the beautiful view of the city, Ellys recalled Dixon Powell’s tiny windowless office and chuckled to herself about the conflicting architecture of the building as the guard pressed the button for the lobby.
327.4xFQ*… She could put it on a T-shirt. And she would wear it proudly.
