A Galactic Job Interview: A Funny Short Story
Follow Dave’s laugh-out-loud journey through an intergalactic job interview, personal statement chaos, and the adventure of becoming a logistics officer for aliens!
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Chapter 1: The Interview From Another Planet
Dave Johnson was ready. After all, how hard could applying for a job at GalactiCorp be? He’d brushed up on his résumé skills, practiced the art of analyzing data, and even attended a weekend seminar on delegating tasks to imaginary employees (as he currently had none). He was prepared for this moment—until he realized the job description included the phrase “experience with intergalactic negotiations highly preferred.”
But Dave wasn’t one to back down. With a coffee in one hand and his freshly updated CV in the other, he walked into the interview room. The panel waiting for him wasn’t human. At least, not all of them. One of the interviewers was an alien with six eyes, another resembled a giant, floating jellyfish, and the third was a humanoid, but with an unsettling number of tentacles emerging from his suit jacket.
“Welcome, Dave,” the humanoid said, extending a tentacle. “We’re excited to hear about how you can facilitate smooth operations at our intergalactic headquarters. Could you tell us more about your expertise in broad range interspecies collaborations?”
Dave’s brain froze, but his mouth didn’t. “Oh, absolutely. I once overhauled my kitchen facilitating a very tricky collaboration between myself and IKEA furniture. And let me tell you, it’s practically a personal statement on meeting tight deadlines when you only have one Allen wrench.”
The jellyfish made a squishy sound that might have been laughter. Encouraged, Dave continued, “I also have excellent skills in allocating resources—like that one time I had to make a sandwich with nothing but mustard and a slice of cucumber. Talk about streamlining.”
The six-eyed alien blinked in unison. “Fascinating. And what would you say is your greatest analytical strength when it comes to handling compliance regulations across the broad range of planets in our jurisdiction?”
Dave’s eyes darted. “Well, I’m very adaptable. I’ve got the analytical skills to handle anything from proposed changes in Earth’s gravity laws to recruiting the best talent for a mission to Mars. I even participated in a webinar on… on space trash disposal! You know, it’s the little things that count.”
The tentacled humanoid nodded thoughtfully. “We appreciate your versatile experience. Tell us, Dave, how do you feel about streamlining operations for a mission to retrieve lost socks from black holes?”
Dave smiled. “I once chaired a task force to find a missing pair of socks in my laundry. I supervised the operation personally. So, consider me facilitated and ready!”
The panel exchanged glances. Maybe, just maybe, Dave was exactly what GalactiCorp needed.
Chapter 2: Personal Statement of Doom
Dave left the interview room feeling surprisingly confident. After all, who else could boast about recovering lost socks from black holes? But before he could get too comfortable, his phone buzzed. It was an email from GalactiCorp:
“Congratulations! You’re one of our final candidates. The next step is submitting a personal statement about why you’re the perfect fit for managing intergalactic logistics. Please submit your statement within 24 Earth hours.”
“Perfect!” Dave thought. “How hard could it be?” He opened up his laptop, cracked his knuckles, and began typing.
Personal Statement:
Dear GalactiCorp Hiring Team,
I am thrilled to participate in this exciting facilitation of intergalactic synergy. I have streamlined operations in high-pressure environments, such as IKEA assembly and solo microwave dinners. My expertise in time management has been honed by years of surviving Earth’s public transportation system. As someone who regularly meets tight deadlines—like the time I successfully retrieved a burrito from the oven before it exploded—I believe I am well-equipped to handle the demands of interplanetary logistics.
With analytical skills sharpened by years of figuring out how to avoid spam emails, I am confident in my ability to delegate tasks—even to alien species. I can ensure compliance with any regulations, be they from Earth, Mars, or a gas giant inhabited by intelligent clouds.
To sum up: I am the perfect candidate because I’m versatile, fearless, and can even analyze data from my fridge to determine when the milk is about to expire.
Yours intergalactically,
Dave Johnson
Candidate for Galactic Logistics Officer
Satisfied with his masterpiece, Dave hit “send” and leaned back, imagining what it would be like to work with aliens on a daily basis. He pictured himself supervising a fleet of spaceships, each one packed with important cargo—like interstellar pizza deliveries or alien pets.
But just as he started daydreaming about his new office on Saturn, his phone buzzed again. Another email from GalactiCorp. Only this time, it was not what he expected.
“Subject: URGENT: A small error in your submission.”
Dave’s heart dropped. He quickly opened the email.
“Dear Mr. Johnson,
Thank you for your submission. However, there seems to be an issue with the last line of your personal statement. Unfortunately, ‘Yours intergalactically’ is considered highly inappropriate in 7 out of 10 galaxies. We recommend that you revise your closing and resubmit. You have 12 Earth hours remaining.”
Dave’s eyes widened. “Who knew galaxies had such strict email etiquette?” he muttered to himself. Now, it was a race against time—and space—if he wanted to keep his shot at the job.
Chapter 3: The Final Frontier
Dave stared at the email, heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon—except, of course, this was much more intense. Forget physical exertion; GalactiCorp was clearly testing his intergalactic diplomacy skills. He had 12 Earth hours to correct his personal statement and avoid offending 70% of the galaxy. But what could he say that would please all 10 galaxies?
Suddenly, Dave remembered something from his research on galactic etiquette. On page 47 of “The Galactic Etiquette Handbook: Volume 2,” he’d skimmed over a section about greetings and closings. The proper closing in such scenarios was “Yours compliance-orientedly.”
He slapped his forehead. Of course! Every galaxy loves compliance. He quickly made the correction, double-checked his grammar, and hit send for the second time.
Satisfied, Dave sat back, waiting for the results. He passed the time analyzing data on whether his plant had been watered this week and facilitating a much-needed nap. After a couple of hours, his phone buzzed once again.
“Subject: Welcome to GalactiCorp!”
His eyes widened as he opened the message.
“Congratulations, Dave! Your revisions were well-received across all 10 galaxies. You are now officially hired as our Intergalactic Logistics Officer. We expect you to start on Mars Base Alpha in two days. Please bring snacks.”
Two days later, Dave found himself standing in the middle of Mars Base Alpha, surrounded by alien coworkers of all shapes and sizes. He proudly wore his new uniform (complete with a small jetpack for when gravity decided to take a break). His first task? Overseeing the allocation of resources for a mission to a black hole that had recently swallowed an important cargo of socks.
As he floated through the corridors of the base, clipboard in hand, he couldn’t help but smile. Sure, the path had been weird—he’d delegated tasks to IKEA furniture, bragged about microwaving burritos, and even avoided a galactic faux pas—but somehow, he’d made it. He was officially the best sock-finding, compliance-ensuring logistics officer in the galaxy.
And as the six-eyed alien from his interview floated by and gave him a nod of approval, Dave realized something: if he could handle this, he could handle anything the universe threw his way.
After all, there were plenty more black holes—and missing socks—out there waiting for him.
The End
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