The Mall of Truth
I stepped into the mall, my heart soaring with gratitude for my new job. This was my chance to prove myself as a super salesman, to climb the career ladder with both hands. The gleaming lights and polished floors promised opportunity, but an eerie chill lingered, one I pushed aside, determined to seize the moment. My supervisor guided me through the bustling aisles, where shelves displayed “character and virtue gifts.” The phrase puzzled me—what could it mean? I was ready to sell anything, even oxygen to someone breathing freely, but this place felt strange. In Section A, the air buzzed with urgency. Shoppers swarmed, snatching vials labeled “lies,” “deception,” and “backstabbing” off the shelves. The products, marked with short expiration dates, flew out faster than we could restock. No sales pitch was needed—these items sold themselves. I watched, baffled, as customers rushed to pay and dashed out, as if chasing something or being chased in return. “Why am I here?” I asked my supervi...