Thirty minutes later, I had combed through all the surrounding areas trying to find another 27 Midstreet other than what the physical evidence presented.
There was none.
I checked the piece of paper once again. Maybe I had just seen "Midstreet" and my mind had filled in what was popular.
That, however, wasn't the case.
The advertisement was clear: present yourself to 27 Midstreet.
I sighed in disappointment. If it was this Midstreet then it was indeed a joke.
For one, in all my years in this city, I had never once seen a soul enter through those gates. Never once even seen the gates themselves open.
The closest people got was when taking pictures near that heavenly, well-trimmed fence growing in front of a ten-foot concrete wall. Even now there were several people doing just that.
Conspiracies had begun to spread that it was the headquarters of one of the world's secret groups. That it had a secret passage which patrons used to access it. Of course all that was speculative bullshit. But mystery tended to create lots of that.
So back to my problem. How was I going to get in there for a physical interview?
For all I knew, there wasn't even a guard whom I could ask.
"You could knock on the gate?" my desperate voice whispered.
"And look like an idiot?" I countered, checking the people around.
"Better than to be homeless and starving."
It had a point right there.
I took a deep breath and without looking around I hurried toward the towering, sturdy gates.
If I was going to look like an idiot, I would only be that for a few seconds, then I was flying the hell out of here.
I could hear funny gasps and giggles going around already. Yeah, people love it when someone offers themselves to be a joke.
I rasped my hands on the impervious metal. It barely made a sound. I was about to knock again when I saw a small section peel and something like a tiny camera or spy hole open up.
"Hi… sorry to bother you, I'm here for an interview?"
Silence. Not even a "which interview" from the other side.
I hesitated, not knowing how to proceed.
Was there someone watching or even listening? And if there was, had they heard me?
"I came across an advertisement for a caretaker," I went on, feeling like a shrimp. "It said I needed to present myself in person."
Still nothing.
I could hear cameras snapping behind me but I refused to turn. Not yet. I mean there was already progress. This camera or spyhole, whatever it was, meant I had got attention.
I reached for the crumpled piece of paper in my palms. The least they could do was confirm this wasn't for them.
"Here… this is the ad," I said, bringing the piece of paper towards the opening. "Can you tell me…"
I didn't finish. As soon as the paper was in front of the gap the gates immediately slid open.
This time I had actual excited screams behind me followed by more snapshots.
I stood there like I was stuck on glue. I couldn't believe Midstreet's gates had opened. And for me?
That and the fact that those speculative write-ups in hospitality magazines weren't entirely speculative. In fact it appeared they never did it justice at all.
Just a first glimpse of this place and the word "serene" felt mundane and undeserving.
The main building itself was close to 150 yards away from where I stood. Everything surrounding it, from flower beds to water features to immaculate lawns, seemed designed to complete and draw the eye to the central structure. The Midstreet Hotel.
I stepped over the gate's threshold and immediately it began to roll shut.
I heard more screams and running footsteps behind me. People were yelling for me to wait.
The fuck? Me? Wait and tell them what?
In any case, if they really wanted an interview they would have to wait for me to be thrown out soon. I would give them a candid interview then. Maybe throw in a little of their conspiracies in there.
They would love that because there was simply no way Midstreet was employing me. Maybe the only reason someone had opened the gate was to find out who was tarnishing their name. Too bad I couldn't help them on that as well.
It seemed like the breathtaking view would not stop enticing me, but I soon came back to my senses.
Looking around there was no one. No sort of security. No any kind of parking. Not even maintenance staff, which was weird seeing how well kept the place looked.
My eyes stretched towards the building looming ahead.
Seems no one was coming to me so maybe I was supposed to go to them.
I followed the nicely placed steps which in themselves felt like floating on the clouds. They seemed to draw me in and soon I became too obsessed with them to realize when they ended and I was right at the hotel's entrance.
I quickly climbed the steps heading towards the large double doors. Instead a small door at the curved edge of the wall opened.
Again I waited, unsure if it was meant for me. Then, seeing the larger one wasn't opening, I approached the open one.
For a possible trend-setting hotel these people were extremely understaffed or extremely reliant on technological automation.
The lights flickered on as I stepped through the door into the smaller room inside.
The place was almost empty except for a chair and a desk with some papers and a pen on top.
There was no one inside and looking at the wall there was no door to indicate an adjacent room.
"What the fuck," I exclaimed while rushing out. Maybe I was trespassing. Maybe the door had opened accidentally. It was never meant for me.
"Accidents… really?" that voice couldn't help but sneer. "Does this place look like anything happens by accident?"
Slowly I tiptoed back into the room. This time I moved closer to the only thing that could remotely engage a human: the sheets of paper.
If I thought the advert was messed up, I was wrong.
This one was downright spooky.
The first sheet of paper had a few paragraphs of text but what caught my eyes immediately was my name.
I checked twice just to be absolutely sure.
At this point I no longer cared whether I was trespassing or not.
Mr Erwin Owl, you have shown a close interest in applying for the advertised job position of a live-in caretaker at the Midstreet Hotel. Do you consent to proceed with the interview process?
Warning: Should you consent, you are bound to secrecy. Nothing read, seen or done within Midstreet Hotel can be revealed in speech, writing or any other forms of communication. You are bound to uphold this agreement or suffer in-house punishment for forfeiture.
Sign: