Chapter 4 - 1983

There it was. That blue, starry ball with a big red eyebrow. The NASA logo loomed over Gru as he stood before the HQ, looking down on him from the top of the building. He felt small again, like that 11 year old boy back in the living room. His mother's gaze was still felt. He felt exposed, embarrassed, doubtful of his place in this grandiose, state of the art establishment. He took a deep breath, shrugged off his ruminations and stepped into the building.

As soon as he stepped in the door, he was greeted by a receptionist.

"Hello sir, are you here for the interview?" she asked.

"Yes." said Gru awkwardly, caught off guard. "I'm Felonius, just call me Gru."

"Let's see…" she muttered, looking down at her clipboard. "Yes, Mr Felonius Gru. If you could please follow me to the waiting room." she said.

"Sure thing." said Gru.

Gru followed the receptionist to the waiting room. He noticed her reddish hair, glasses and white lab coat. This resurfaced thoughts Gru thought he had successfully vaulted by now. He looked around to distract his busy mind, and saw something that caught his breath. Beyond the glass windows was a tall, white castle made up of three towers. There were two thin red towers, and in between was one thick white tower with the starry ball and eyebrow printed on its walls. This mythical castle captured Gru's wonder and imagination, taking him back to that warm, itchy rug 2 meters too close to the family TV.

Seeing the rocket again reminded him of that photo in the living room, the one with his father in it. His death due to disappointment in his son the moment he was born would now be in vain, as Gru was about to make his late father proud. Now he was going to be resurrected due to pride in his son, having fulfilled the dream he never could. Not literally, of course. Gru recalled the times he and his mother visited his father's grave, which would always be on the anniversary of his death (also Gru's birthday). She would always recount how great their life was until Gru was born, before reminding Gru of his part in his father's death. Needless to say, Gru didn't like birthday parties.

On that morbid thought, Gru turned his attention back to the receptionist, following her all the way to the waiting room. Soon enough, they arrived.

"Please take a seat. The interviewer will be with you shortly, should be around 15 minutes." said the receptionist.

"Thanks," replied Gru. "See you later." Gru muttered under his breath. As soon as she left, his awkwardness faded.

The room was nothing special. Four white sanitary corners sandwiched between two layers of boring. It was anticlimactic to say the least. Gru looked around the room for a seat. Everyone there wore classy suits, like it was the inauguration or something. Charcoal Grays, Dark Browns and lots of Navy Blues. Gru looked down at his own Navy Blue suit and smelt the stink of being an imposter among them. He did up his glossy horn buttons, straightening his slouched back and striking a gentlemanly pose as he walked towards his seat. He picked a seat right in the corner of the room, where he could be as far from the others as possible.

He sat down on the rough, fabric chair. The itchy texture only added to his unease. His restless mind looked around the room, assessing his rivals. The room was filled with a variety of young people. There were geeks, nerds and even dweebs. Successful dweebs, all who had accomplished the same, if not more than Gru in their lifetimes. All sitting in the same chairs, waiting their turn same as Gru. A long row of brainiacs stood in his path, an army of Einsteins keeping the gates. Gru was a one man army, and was more than ready for battle, only he didn't feel ready at that moment. All the preparation of the previous weeks was feeling like it wasn't enough. Should've been months, Gru thought.

Gru glanced at the applicant next to him. He wore a Harvard tie, and had a tailored suit made by the same outfit Gru rented his suit from. He was in the process of consuming a hot dog, and had left a yellow-red stain on this suit. His tie was loose, hanging down from his neck. He laid into his seat like it was a comfy beanbag, and seemed unphased by the seriousness of the situation. Either this was the most confident applicant in the room, or this was a complete imbecile. Gru suspected the latter. He stank of nepotism, with a stench of entitlement. Seeing this man trying for the same position as him made him rethink his life.

Gru had planned out his life at 11 years old, worked every day since to ensure his plan would succeed, graduating high school at 14, getting a phd in areospace engineering at 19, then joining the US Air Force for 2 years of dedicated sevice, and then spending the next 3 years designing laser-navigation systems for missiles in the US Military before being abruply fired. Firing aside, Gru had an incredible track record, especially considering the lack of support from his family. Einstein graduated when he was 16 after all, Gru had done it when he was 2 years younger. All things considered, this preppy slob stood no chance. That stain alone should cost him the interview.

"Carlton Jones, please make your way to the door." said the receptionist

The applicant, having finished his hot dog, stood up and straightened his tie before leisurely strolling through the door. Gru could only imagine how this was going to go. Seeing this man's existence made him laugh off his worries. The tension from before had released. His mind cleared, and was back to logic mode. He was going to use his last 15 minutes productively. He brought out his list of potential questions and answers, and recited them all word for word for the hundredth time. He could be heard muttering under his breath, as if he were summoning demons from Mar. Suddenly, Gru heard the words:

"Felonious Gru, please make your way to the door."

The chills returned. Glaciers drifted down his spine, pulling him out of his trance. Gru put his paper back in his suit pocket, got up, and confidently marched towards the door. On his way he noticed a green exit sign. The wording on the sign didn't matter. He saw it the way he wanted to. Green for go. He walked past the exit, and straight through the door.

On the other side of the door was the interviewer's office.