Q&A (alternatively titled Q& Not U)

I was interviewed by a community newspaper today. Not to be in the news, but for a job.
After listening to the old white dude who was “interviewing” me talk about himself for 20 minutes, I was subjected to a “reporter’s test”.
“Do you have a pen and paper son?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I am ready when you are”, said Mark A. Pike, with total disregard for AP style guide (MAP style guide, my initials and my rules).
This is how it worked. I had three hours to write a story. The dude interviewing me would provide me with information when I asked questions. If I asked the right questions, he gave me answers. He pretended to be every character in the story and provided me with all the quotes I needed. It was like the worst imaginable game of Carmen Sandiego, or an 800 page Nancy Drew novel.
This was the story: A JC Penny’s caught on fire. Arson was suspected.
The old stuffy white dude pretended to be a shopper, manager, salesperson, fireman, police officer, FBI agent, union organizer of varying ethnicities and ages.
I uncovered a story about union tension. I asked a lot of great questions and got great answers.
I spent 3 hours typing the story.
I knocked on the dude’s door and said, “I’m done. Should I print it out and bring it to you sir?”
“I don’t think that is necessary. Come have a seat. Would you like to know where you messed up?”
He hadn’t even read the story yet, and he knew where I messed up? “Okay.”
“I don’t think this is going to work out. You failed to establish how extensive the structural damage was. You didn’t pinpoint the location of the fire and you didn’t ask any questions about the suspicious Italian man with the Italian sounding name.”
Is this happening? It’s like getting a girl’s number at a bar, calling her ten minutes later and saying “Hey. I’m just not that in to you… sorry. Don’t call back.”…. So I said to him…
“Wow. I thought when you were pretending to be the African-American 56 year old fire chief you said that the fire was still raging and it was contained to the JC Penny’s. Also, the FBI agent said there were no formal suspects that I could put in the paper.”
“Well, either way. I don’t think this is going to work out. You should have asked very specific questions, and you failed. I guess one of my flaws is my bluntness.”
“Honesty is a good characteristic in this industry, sir. I appreciate it. I guess I should go then. My article, if you’d like to read it is still open on the computer.”
“Thanks. Before you leave…”
“Yes sir?”
“Is that your pen?”
“Yes, it’s mine. I brought it with me.”
“Oh, okay. I guess we both have good taste in pens. I didn’t want you to walk out with one of ours.”
“Thanks for your time, sir.”
I walked out the office and onto the street. Tired of asking all of the “wrong” questions, I neglected to ask anybody on the street for directions. I arrived home, an hour later, drenched. The raindrops had fallen, like decisions.