Mrs. Abreu used the Atazacron to transform her husband's mind. She didn't remove his entire mind, just his personality and identity. He didn't think of himself as a dominant man or a captain of industry. He saw himself as an older woman named Lydia who was on 'her' own for the first time. He didn't remember that he had been married to the woman who sat before him, Mrs. Abreu. He believed he had been a wife and a mother of three children. Mrs. Abreu would hire him eventually, but she would make him suffer. She wanted to see her husband beg to work as a maid in a house that he had once owned.

Mrs. Abreu met Lydia at the door. He was right on time. "I'm Mrs. Abreu." She extended her arm with her hand loosely hanging from her wrist. Lydia shook it.

"I'm Lydia."

"Lydia, I hope you don't mind, but this is the uniform you will be expected to wear. Would you mind putting it on for the interview?"

Lydia took the uniform and changed in the bathroom. The uniform consisted of a yellow and white dress with teal accents, white tights, and white rubber sole shoes. He put on the costume, and then Mrs. Abreu purposefully made him sit in a seat too short for him. She wanted to grind all resistance out of him.

Lydia, with a worn expression, sat across from Mrs. Abreu, his hands wrapped around his knees. The small office feels stifling as he adjusts his posture, determined to appear calm and collected despite the anxiety gnawing at his insides.

"So," Mrs. Abreu begins, her eyes scanning Lydia's skimpy resume, (a resume that Mrs. Abreu wrote herself) "I see you don't have any formal experience working as a maid. Why should I consider you for this position?"

Lydia swallowed hard but forced a smile. "That's true, ma'am. I haven't worked as a maid before, but I've spent my entire life running my household." Lydia hadn't any memory of doing anything other than being a homemaker. "I raised three children and took care of all the cleaning, cooking, and organizing. I'm familiar with every aspect of keeping a home in order---vacuuming, scrubbing floors, washing windows, doing laundry, ironing, even managing the grocery shopping."

Mrs. Abreu narrowed her eyes. She was enjoying this. "But you've never worked for someone else. This is a different environment, Lydia. You'll be handling other people's possessions, following their specific instructions. How can I be sure you'll meet those expectations?" Mrs. Abreu stressed the words, "Other People's Possessions".

Lydia's heart pounded, but he tried to keep his voice steady. "I understand that it's different. But I'm a fast learner, and I'm careful. I know how important it is to respect someone's home and their belongings. I've always been detail-oriented, and I'm willing to follow any instructions you give me exactly. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure everything is perfect."

Mrs. Abreu leaned forward, her gaze sharp. "And what happens when you're asked to handle delicate tasks, like cleaning fine china or caring for expensive fabrics? Are you confident you can manage that?"

Lydia hesitates for a brief moment, but then his voice becomes firmer. "I've never worked with anything like that before, but I'm ready to learn. I'll be very careful, I promise. If you show me what needs to be done, I'll do it properly."

Mrs. Abreu sighed, flipping through the resume again. Mrs. Abreu tried to hide her smile as she read through the made-up life that she concocted for her husband. "This is a demanding job, Lydia. What makes you think you're up for it at this stage of your life?"

The question stang, but Lydia didn't let it show. He straightens in his chair, his voice soft yet pleading. "Because I need this, ma'am. I may be older, but I'm still capable. I can still work hard. I've been through tough times, but I'm not ready to give up. I'm committed to doing the best job possible. I need this chance."

A silence hangs between them as Mrs. Abreu studies Lydia's face. Hearing her husband beg felt delicious. Lydia felt the desperation rising in his chest, and before he can stop himself, he leans forward, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, ma'am. I'll do anything. I just need a chance. I can't afford to keep looking. I know I can do this job---I won't let you down. Please give me the opportunity."

Mrs. Abreu's eyes soften, though her expression remains reserved. She leans back in her chair, exhaling deeply. "Alright, Lydia. I'll give you a trial period, two weeks. If you can manage the work and meet my standards, the job is yours. But if not..."

Mrs. Abreu had no intention of ever firing Lydia. She wanted to see him on his knees doing her menial tasks. If he needed an attitude adjustment, the atozrocron was still available.

"I'll prove myself," Lydia interrupts, his relief palpable as he fights back tears. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Mrs. Abreu nods, still a bit hesitant but resigned. "We'll see how it goes. Be here tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. sharp."

"I'll be here ma'am," Lydia promises, her voice trembling with gratitude as she stands up to leave.