The Uber drops you at the end of the long driveway. Across the big, well-kept yard, the Teckleville home of Charles Sneed doesn’t look like a billionaire’s mansion. It’s more like a medium-sized farmhouse. There’s a classic Mustang parked in the driveway, its black paint shiny and flawless.
You climb three steps onto the front porch, and knock on the door. After a few moments, Sneed answers it himself. He’s tall and muscular, wearing khakis, a polo shirt, and a wide grin that reminds you of a shark, somehow.
“Mr. Sneed? I’m ${character.name}.” You say. “I’m here about the maid’s position?”
“Of course.” Sneed says. “Come on in. We can talk in my study. And you can call me Chuck. Everyone does.”
The interior of the house is much like the outside. Pleasant and well maintained, but not obviously expensive or luxurious. It looks lived in. A home. Chuck leads you down the hallway into a room with a heavy wooden desk. He offers you a chair, and sits in another.
“Your references sound good.” Chuck says. “I’m ready to offer you the job, but I think we ought to go over a few things, first.”
He leans forward in his chair. “Normally the work shouldn’t be too hard. The house isn’t huge, and I mostly pick up after myself. Once in a while, there may be…unusual situations that need cleaning up.”
Chuck picks up what looks like a contract from his desk. “You’re probably wondering why the job pays about twenty times the average salary for a housekeeper. First of all, don’t worry, it’s nothing depraved, or illegal. But in the course of working here, you may see things. Unusual things. I need someone who can keep a clear head, and not go running to the supermarket tabloids to tell stories.”
Chuck looks directly into your eyes, as though trying to read your thoughts. “Can I count on your discretion?”
“Uh, yes.”
The grin returns. “Great. Sign here. You can start right away. Your room’s upstairs, and there are uniforms in the closet. Come on, I’ll show you around.”