[ WP ] In a world where people can buy and sell skills , you work at a skill pawn shop and someone is trying to pawn a skill that you ca n't value or appraise .

As I sat perched on the end of the sill, watching the ant-sized police cars cordon off the street, I thought back to how it all started. The negotiator on the phone was rambling something about the country and the wars in the East. I told him to shut up and listen. 
 
 I said that it would be up to him to explain it to people, to make them understand. He promised he would try his best. 
 
 `` Well,'' I began, `` I'm sure you know that I once owned a Skill Shop... 
 
 As everyone knows, every skill has a price. Most are well established based on supply and demand, all you need is internet access to see what the current value of a particular skill is. All the general skills ( which is 95 % of all skills ) fall into this category. Want to see how much it will cost you to become a decent guitar player? Well, that one generally hovers between $ 750 and $ 800. 
 
 Want to become a Rock God? That will cost you considerably more. My point is they all have well established value that's tracked on the TalentMarket. 
 
 Then there are those skills which are a bit harder to evaluate. These are the types of skills that I deal with most often. 
 
 Some guy who just came out of prison is n't exactly going to sell `` Shivving'' on the open market. Sure, being skilled with a blade is useful, you just ca n't sell it on TalentMarket. That's where I came in. 
 
 People who have certain skills to sell come to me and I evaluate and sell them. In my business you learn to tell right away when a man is lying about what he can and can not do. 
 
 I ca n't even tell you the amount of times I've had guys walk into the shop and try to sell me real `` Ninja'' skills or `` Perfect shot with a 9mm.'' Half the kids who try this barely know a katana from a cantina. Seriously, about the only useful skill they have is imagination, and the markets way over-saturated with that. 
 
 After twenty plus years on the job I thought I'd seen it all. But I was wrong. 
 
 Small guy, thick glasses and thin, ratty hair. I noticed him right away because he did n't look like my usual class of clientele. His fine suit and expensive looking shoes made him an instant anomaly. Being well groomed was n't a normal occurrence for a patron of mine. 
 
 He had walked furtively through the front door, as if embarrassed to be seen entering my fine establishment. That, on the other hand, was normal. 
 
 After a moments hesitation when the door closed, he walked up to where I stood behind the counter. 
 
 I continued polishing the Skill I was holding, pretending like I had not seen him. He cleared his throat. I looked at him, feigning surprise. 
 
 `` Hello there,'' I said with a bright, fake smile. 
 
 `` Hi,'' he said, avoiding my eyes and shifting nervously from foot to foot. 
 
 `` What'll it be, you buying or selling?'' I said, dropping the niceties. I needed to hurry this guy along, lunch was in ten minutes. I did n't have time for the usual embarrassment and guilt. 
 
 `` Umm...I'm selling.'' 
 
 I nodded, waiting for him to take the dive. This was the tipping point. This was when my customers either chickened out or made a life altering decision. 
 
 He paused for a moment, and I thought he'd for sure back down. 
 
 `` Yes. I'm here to sell.'' His voice was considerably stronger and more firm. Interesting. 
 
 `` So, what are you here to sell? What do you think you can do that people will actually pay for?'' Probably some white collar crime type of thing, I thought. I got those from time to time. Worth good money. 
 
 `` I win,'' he said, and looked at me expectantly. 
 
 `` Excuse me?'' I must have misheard him. 
 
 `` I win,'' he said again. `` I always win.'' 
 
 `` Win at what?'' I said. `` Blackjack? Poker? Win at what specifically.'' 
 
 He frowned. `` I win at everything. Always.'' 
 
 I laughed. This was a new one. 
 
 `` I'm serious,'' he insisted. `` I ca n't stand it!'' Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes and trickling down under his thickly rimmed glasses. 
 
 `` Nothing I do has excitement! Nothing is a challenge! Do you have any idea what it's like to constantly succeed in everything all the time, no matter what you do? It's like I have no effect on my own life!'' He started sobbing uncontrollably. 
 
 After twenty years on the job I could always tell when someone was lying, and my gut told me he was telling the truth. 
 
 `` What the hell am I supposed to give you for that? Nothing's worth a skill like that. Is that even a skill? Skill ca n't effect outcomes outside of....'' I realized I was babbling and shut my mouth. 
 
 `` The'hell can I give you for that?'' I repeated. 
 
 `` Just take it. Please just take it. I ca n't stand it anymore!'' 
 
 Well, what what was I supposed to do? What would anyone have done? 
 
 For the next several years I thought I was the luckiest man alive. Politics was the logical path, and my rise was meteoric. 
 
 Everyone knows what happened next. 
 
 I balanced the budget and lowered taxes by 30 %. I eradicated communism and world hunger in the same year. I was the most popular president in history with an almost perfect approval rating. 
 
 Blah blah blah it was so boring! 
 
 No one knows what it's like to live and not live. Nothing I do makes any difference! I'll always succeed no matter how much I try not to. 
 
 I looked down on the street far below. The wind pulled at me, shrieking against the sharp edges of the shattered window. The police had finally gotten the street cordoned off. 
 
 `` No one will ever know what it's like'' I whispered into the phone. `` No one will have to go through this again. I promise.'' 
 
 The last sound I heard as I leaned out into the sky's open embrace, was the negotiator screaming from the phone. 
 
 `` Mr. President! Mr. President!'' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

