The applicants sitting in the waiting room were getting impatient. They kept checking their watches and tapping their feet, as the now familiar sound of shouting and shooting from the Commissar's office seemed to have stopped over time. The door stayed closed with nobody coming in or out, and even the secretary sitting next to them managed to slip out undetected somehow.
The clock kept going, and the applicants were starting to get nervous, as the only new person in the room was a whistling man in orange coveralls, lazily mopping the floor with a cigarette in his hand leaving an ash trail where he just cleaned up. He eventually got to the commissar's room, stopped whistling and moving and glanced at the applicants behind him. Then he pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and stuck it on the door, afterwards resuming his whistling and moving off to a different room.
The applicants, shocked as they were, didn't know what to make of it. One of them came closer to try to read from the bad handwriting.
"Gone fishing?! Seriously?!"
Everything else was quiet. All they could do now was wait.
