Taking the elevated train at midnight to the outskirts of town with my winter coat and canvas satchel on my back. The job interview is to be held in the brass-and-teak-lined public library. My coworkers and I greet a frail Hindu boy in pull-up socks and his own leather satchel and ask about his schooling. He is meek and deliberate but not dull. When my boss enters, he explains immediately that more than one position may be open, beacuse he'd be glad to fire any one of us if he could find someone else who could give him more help, he always needs more help. Then, without warning, he begins to ask a series of questions, the first of which is to calculate the square root of a small number. The Hindu boy, meanwhile, is wiping the glass bookcase with a look of delight on his face. When he discovers that our attention is on him, he slowly returns to the desk and begins to slowly prod a calculator. Our boss starts slapping him like a girl, trembling with fury, until the little Hindu boy flees to the corner. "That one's not going to work out," a coworker says as my boss cradles his head, gasping.