Black Pajama Pants by Rob Lichter, inspired by a story by Chris Stabler



“Mr. Bowers, your 1:30 is here,” came the voice through the speakerphone on his desk.
“Thanks, Sheila, send him in, please,” Mr. Bowers replied and placed the paperwork he was working on into a manila envelope and stuck the envelope in a drawer in his desk.
“Mr. Bowers?” the speakerphone asked again. It was Sheila and she was whispering into her handset. “I just want to warn you that your interview is a bit…odd. Just a heads-up.”
“Thank you, Sheila,” said Mr. Bowers and he hung up the phone. He took out the applicant’s resumé and began to scan it when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Mr. Bowers.

It was then that a pair of black pajama pants entered the room and took a seat in the chair opposite Mr. Bowers’ desk. To his credit, Mr. Bowers simply followed the pajama pants with his eyes and then looked down to re-scan the resumé.
“Mr.- Bauer, is it?” he asked the pajama pants.
“No, I CAME from Eddie Bauer. Bellevue, Washington state,” the pants corrected.
“I see,” said Mr. Bowers, looking back at the resumé. “I’ll be honest, Mr., um…Mr….?” The pants did not pick up on Mr. Bowers’ questioning tone and Mr. Bowers let the words hang in the air, not knowing how to proceed. This kind of thing was not covered in his sensitivity training.
“I mean to say, I simply don’t know if you’ll fit in at this company…at this…particular…ahem…at this particular time,” he explained delicately.
“What? Oh, because I’m black??” the pants said indignantly.
“Wait, what? No!” Mr. Bowers said, quickly. He was clearly in over his head here. “He scanned the resumé again, searching for something to talk about; something familiar. He found virtually nothing.
“Um, according to your resumé, you’ve never worked in research before, is that right?” he asked tentatively.
“That’s right,” said the pants simply.
“Well, we’re really looking for someone with experience in the field of research,” said Mr. Bowers with some confidence. Dismissing potential biosystems researchers on the grounds of insufficient experience was nothing new to him. He was back in charge of the conversation.
“I see,” said the pants. “So you’re telling me that even though your company has no pajamas whatsoever on staff, you’re going to turn me away?”
“You’re unqualified!” said Mr. Bowers loudly, shaking the resumé in his hand. “You’re not even a complete pair of pajamas! Where's the top!?” Mr. Bowers had the pants dead to rights.
“You’re not allowed to ask me that!” replied the pants. “You can’t ask me about my personal life at all. You’re treading on dangerous territory, sir. I’d hate to have to contact your human resources department before I’m even hired!
“You’re not even human!” exclaimed Bowers. The pants chuckled softly.
“That’s a good one,” said the pants. “I’ll have to remember that. But seriously, Mr. Bowers, we both know that this company has had a…let’s say ‘imperfect’ history regarding discrimination.”
“If you’re referring to the harassment case last year, that was a simple case of misunderstanding. We’d hired a deaf woman in the legal department. One of her coworkers tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention and she claimed inappropriate contact. That has no bearing on the matter in front of us at this moment! If anything, I should bring charges against you for using your…position…to…to try to bully your way into this company.”
“Mr. Bowers, the plain fact is that if I go to the media with my story, my alleged inexperience in the field of biosystemic research will go unnoticed. What the public will hear will be ‘major company is biased.’ If that kind of publicity is something you think you can handle, then by all means send me packing,” the pants said evenly.
Mr. Bowers eyed the pants with loathing. They sat in a standoff for several minutes. Without taking his eyes off of the pants, Mr. Bowers reached over to his phone.
“Sheila,” he said, “would you come in here, please?” A few seconds later the office door opened and a notch collar piped jacket with matching skirt entered.
“Sheila,” said Mr. Bowers through a clenched jaw, “would you please escort this…gentleman to personnel and get him set up with an I.D. card? He’ll be joining us in the research department.”
The pants rose from the chair and joined the jacket and skirt at the doorway.
“Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. B. You won’t regret it,” said the pants and winked at Mr. Bowers before closing the door behind him.
Mr. Bowers leaned back in his chair and unbuttoned himself. He mentally counted the days until retirement and sighed softly.