I Didn't Get 'the Job'

I interviewed for a position in Mega Corp reporting to the 1st Corp Secretary to Mr. X. My military background and training, and clearance were the reason I had the interview. I turned 30, and was full of self assurance. I was being interviewed. Me. Because of who I was. A position into the inner circle, at the very heart of Mega Corp.

My last shot was with Mr. X himself. I waited, I sweated, I wanted the job. My MBA, my short but impressive military stint, I was a shoe in for the job. Mr. X was older than I thought, or maybe he looked older. Tougher than nails came to mind. Sharp, smart, in every sense all there. He asked some pointed questions. Business, all business. Then,

He asked me to stand. At attention, he was ex military himself. Head high, chest out. He made his decision known. I wasn't what he was looking for. I wasn't getting the job.

The thankyous for your time, better luck next time, rest assured it's not you, it's a selection of the very best, you aren't the very best. Go home, what next?

In time I learned who got the job. 27, patrician beautiful, daughter of a 'family' with a name. Yes she went to Stanford, she was on the fencing team. Smart I was told. So what did she have? Why was she 'the best'?

Why torture yourself? Who cares? Move on. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and rumor has it, a beautiful pussy. And you, my friend laughed. Your spoon was plastic, your pussy ordinary. Nothing special.

It is all about the pussy, I know that now. Mr. X has exemplary taste in pussy. So she, a quiet 27, no military background, no MBA, but the story goes, she has 'the' pussy and 'you don't'.
Born with it, born to it. Mr. X wants the best.