Diversity Hire

Freddy Rodrigues had once been a rather corpulent man, but diligent exercise and a strict diet had seen to that. He woke up at five in the morning every day, had a warm glass of water mixed with a bit of neem before putting on his gym clothes and vigorously punching the air for thirty minutes, his workout music clashing violently with the azaan from the local mosque.

But today, he woke up at 4:45, sheer excitement having robbed him of a quarter-hour’s worth of sleep. He hated being early, but he hated being late even more. It felt wrong somehow, like the world’s gears weren’t turning smoothly. You see, today was the first day at his new job.

By about 6:30, the sweat-stained Under Armour was swapped for an ironed shirt, trousers, and a bright blue tie that had passed down from father to son for three generations.

He adjusted it while looking at himself in the mirror. He cut a fine figure, he thought. Dashing, irresistible. “Can’t wait to get started,” he muttered happily while fidgeting with the four watches he was wearing on his wrists, tapping one lightly when it lagged half a second behind the others.

At 7:30, he was out the door, in his little blue Hyundai, and off to his new workplace. “Must leave thirty minutes earlier tomorrow,” he ruminated while navigating the ghastly morning traffic. He was both excited and grateful in equal measure. The interviewer had seen Freddy for who he was and had wholeheartedly accepted him. Freddy found himself choking a little with emotion. He had been on the fringes of society for so long that it felt incredible just to be seen, let alone appreciated or hired.

The office was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, it was the very picture of dull, drab and traditional. But to Freddy, it may as well have been a Sheikh’s palace.

He was met with a firm handshake from his new boss, a very serious, no-nonsense fellow named Imtiaz. Mustached, wearing a slightly ill-fitting black suit and standing over six feet tall, Mr Imtiaz cut a rather intimidating figure, a fact he knew and abused with glee when ruling over his petty kingdom.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing what you can do, Freddy,” he boomed. “We strive to be a very inclusive culture, with all of us learning and growing by interacting with coworkers from different races, religions, genders and, erm… proclivities? Anyway, I think you’ll bring a lot to the table. But I guess only time will tell.” With a sly grin, he patted Freddy on the shoulder and sent him on his way.

Freddy spent the next few minutes on a self-guided tour of the office, happily greeting all of his new coworkers. They were remarkably friendly and welcoming, and his heart swelled with a warm sense of belonging. For the first time in years, nobody was looking at him funny. Nobody was whispering. Maybe, he thought, this was the place he could finally just be.

At exactly 8:55 a.m., he had to excuse himself from a rather riveting conversation about cereal soup. “It’s TIME to get to work,” he told them, and was met with titters and giggles.

At 8:59 a.m., he positioned himself against a blank white wall right in the centre of the office. And at exactly 9:00 a.m., he lifted his left arm until it pointed straight at the ceiling. He then raised his right arm until it was exactly perpendicular to his body and the other arm.

He stood perfectly still, chest rising and falling with mechanical rhythm. Slowly, his breathing steadied, his gaze went distant. The noise of the office faded. And then it came, slowly at first but gathering steam.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He could hear the tick of every clock in the entire world. He could tell which ones were perfectly calibrated, which ones needed battery replacements, and which ones needed to be retired from service.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

This ticking was different. It was emanating from his own heart, which was now perfectly aligned with the nation of clocks.

For almost fifteen years, Freddy had been addicted to becoming a piece of furniture. This curious and sometimes debilitating eccentricity had appeared to coincide with the start of his fitness journey. He had been an early adopter of a new weight-loss product called FADEAWAY, which proved remarkably effective. The wonder-drug was swiftly removed from the market, when the mice it had been tested on began developing an inexplicable desire to be sat on, but not soon enough to save Freddy.

The addiction started small. He would wear a lampshade on his head in the evenings and pester his roommates to “turn him on and off.” Then it progressed to tables and chairs, but when faced with the proposition of having to sit on Freddy or eat off him at mealtimes, his roommates decided to surreptitiously part ways with him.

It was only a few months later that the now sole tenant of apartment 405 found his true calling. Clocks, watches, even hourglasses — something about telling the time simply made him tick. And with years of practice, he had gotten very good at telling it. Now he could tell you the time at the drop of a hat, and it would be correct up to the very second.

He spent the rest of the day meticulously moving his limbs to simulate the arms of a clock. His colleagues would occasionally glance up from their paperwork at him. By 5:00 p.m., the office emptied around him. A few glanced his way, others didn’t. Freddy stayed perfectly still, ignoring the aching of his arms, an unwavering, plastic smile fixed upon his lips.

Mr Imtiaz strode up to Freddy after the last employee had left. “Simply remarkable, Freddy,” he said. “Zero missed deadlines, the meetings ran right on time. People are even checking their phones less often. Great job, man. Simply remarkable!” He clapped him on the shoulder and strode out the door.

The following week, Freddy’s name appeared in the company newsletter under Employee of the Month.

The citation beneath it read “For outstanding punctuality and setting the standard for time management.”