Without further ado or fannying around, you put on your plimsolls, and catch the trolleybus to Kyoto, city of opportunity, where Nintendo has its headquarters!
Taking a deep breath, and rehearsing your interview answers in your head, you stride confidently towards the main entrance.
"What happens if you try to say the word 'snow', for which eskimos have over 400 different words?" you ask for some reason.
There is a momentary silence, punctured only by the clicks and buzzes of Semblance's mechanical brain, as he tries to process this information. Gradually, he begins to twitch and flutter.
"Sn... sn... sn-o... 111101110101011!"
"Please accept my apologies," he weeps, with a funny bow. "I am the important Nintendo executive Super-Dude 7. I am afraid we've been having a few technical issues with our robotic receptionist. Allow me to activate our back-up robotic receptionist."
Super-Dude 7 uses his forearm to sponge the sullied pearlescent spume from the desk, pushes Semblance to the floor, smashing it into a hundred tiny pieces, before reaching beneath the reception countertop, and yanking on a polished lever.
With an electronic rasp, a new robotic receptionist rises forth to take the place of Semblance.
"Cool!" you whoop, semi-genuinely. "I notice that you don't have any hands, Pretense. Tell me, what occurs if you attempt to translate sign language, the ancient tongue of the deafs?"
"Please... no" squeaks Super-Dude 7, but his protests arrive a moment too late.
The air cracks asunder upon the arrival of a terrible noise which sounds like a couple of tectonic plates doing a high-five: "SUPER-DUDE 7!!!!!!!"
"I am so sorry, Reggie Fils-Aime-san," responds the frantically-bowing Super-Dude 7. "Please accept my resignation and trousers by way of an apology."
Super-Dude 7 unbuckles his belt, and lets his trousers fall to his knees.
"There's no need for that," insists Reggie Fils-Aime, as he struts and gambols in his trunks and cap. "Just don't do it again."
"Sure thing, boss!" chirrups Super-Dude 7, before tweaking back into his office, tripping thrice over his dropped trousers en route, and almost killing himself and four other people.
"Sheeesh!" exhales Reggie Fils-Aime. "What a doofus that guy is! So what can I do for you?"
"Job? What job?" snaps Reggie Fils-Aime. "Never mind! I'm a real busy guy, with all these heavy weights to lift. I can't be expected to know about every vacancy. Take the pneumatic space train to human resources department on the moon, and they'll be able to help you."
"The moon?" you gasp, awed. "Where do I catch this pneumatic space train?"
With a primitive grunt, and neanderthal-like jerk of his fists, Reggie Fils-Aim indicates an ordinary door, before continuing with his exercises.
But all that's on the other side is the exterior of the building. You turn back to face Reggie Fils-Aime, confused...
"I... I don't understand" you begin to say... but before you know what is happening, Reggie Fils-Aime and Super-Dude 7 have shoulder-barged you clean out of the building.
"And never come back!" they yell in your wake, before slamming shut the door. You hear them twisting a key in the lock, and blowing what you assume are raspberries.
Oh well. Maybe you'll have better luck with Sega.