HOW A SIMPLE JOB INTERVIEW IN JOHANNESBURG TURNED INTO A RITUAL

I thought it was just another interview. A normal opportunity. A chance to get my foot in the door at a company that could finally give me stability, a paycheck I didn’t have to stress over, and the dignity of knowing I could provide for myself. I had no idea how wrong I was.

The office looked ordinary at first. Clean, professional, quiet. I walked in, dressed in my best, my CV clutched tightly in my hands. The receptionist smiled politely and asked me to wait. Nothing seemed out of place.

Then the manager appeared — calm, confident, with a presence that filled the room. He asked me standard questions at first: my experience, my education, my skills. I answered honestly. But then his tone shifted. The questions became strange, personal, invasive.

“Do you believe in power beyond what people see?” he asked.

“Would you follow instructions without question if it meant success?”

“Are you willing to… give a part of yourself for opportunity?”

I laughed nervously. I thought it was a test, some psychological tactic to see if I was brave enough for the job. I nodded. I said yes.

Then he led me to a smaller room. Dim lights. Candles. Symbols drawn on the floor. I froze. Suddenly, I realized this was not just a normal job. This was something else — something dangerous.

He explained that the position came with benefits beyond ordinary understanding: wealth, influence, connections that could make me untouchable. But there was a price. A ritual. Tasks that went beyond ethics, beyond comfort, beyond what I could have imagined. Each step was necessary to secure the position, and each step tested not only my obedience but my soul.

At first, the tasks seemed small: sign this, deliver this, follow this procedure exactly. But every instruction pulled me deeper. The more I followed, the more I realized I was being woven into something I didn’t understand, something I couldn’t control. The office, the manager, even the other employees — they were all part of it. Observing, judging, waiting.

Fear grew. Shadows felt alive. Whispers followed me outside the building. The rituals were never violent, but they were suffocating, consuming my choices, my sense of self. I began to see patterns: missteps had consequences I hadn’t anticipated, and small errors could cost everything.

I wanted to leave. But the promise of success was intoxicating. Every day, I wrestled with myself: continue and risk losing my soul, or walk away and lose the opportunity of a lifetime.

In the end, I chose to step back. I walked out, heart pounding, terrified of what I had narrowly avoided. I had seen the price of ambition, the cost of shortcuts, the dangers hidden behind ordinary doors.

That day taught me something I will never forget: not all opportunities are what they seem. Some jobs are more than employment — they are tests, traps, and rituals that demand more than you are ready to give. And sometimes, survival means knowing when to say no, even when everything in you screams yes.