You can find the "script" taken from the book at the bottom of the page.
Taken from the book "Mood Indigo" by Boris Vian:
Colin had to go at full speed if he wanted to stay upright. Before he knew what had happened, he was standing in front of the chairman's desk. Obediently he sat down in a restive chair that reared and pranced between his legs and only stood still when its master made an imperative gesture.
'Well?...' said the chairman.
'Well. Here I am!...' said Colin.
'What do you do?' asked the chairman.
'I've mastered the rudiments...' said Colin.
'Ahem... Hum!...' murmured the director. 'You know the kind of job we are offering?'
'No' said Colin.
'Neither do I...' said the chairman. 'I'll have to ask my managing director. But you don't look as if you would be suitable...'
'Why not?' asked Colin.
'I don't know...' said the chairman.
He seemed nervous and pushed his armchair back a little.
'Don't come any closer!...' he snapped.
'But... I didn't move...' said Colin.
'No... no...' muttered the chairman. 'That's what they all say... and then...'
He leaned forward provocatively without taking his eyes off Colin, and picked up his telephone from the desk, shaking it violently.
'Hello!' he shouted. 'Come in here immediately!'
He put back the instrument and continued contemplating Colin suspiciously.
'How old are you?' he asked.
'Twenty-one' said Colin.
'I thought as much...' said his interlocutor.
Somebody knocked at the door.
'Cone in!' shouted the chairman, and his expression relaxed again.
A man, ravaged by the continual absorption of paper dust and whose bronchia must have been overflowing with reconstituted cellulose paste, came into the room with a file under his arm.
'You've broken a chair' said the chairman.
'Yes' said the managing director.
He put the file on the table.
'It can be repaired, you know...'
He turned to Colin.
'Do you know how to mend chairs?...'
