Congratulations, You’re HR!
Congratulations, You’re HR!
— By Galuh Meysia
Monday mornings at Thompson & Co. were never normal.
Employees hurried through the corridors carrying towering stacks of paperwork. Telephones rang without mercy. Printers hummed endlessly, while keyboards clattered so rapidly that the entire office sounded as though someone were performing the Can-Can on a hundred typewriters.
And somehow, nobody seemed particularly concerned.
At the reception desk sat a woman in her late thirties. She typed with remarkable speed using one hand while laughing into her mobile phone with the other.
“Yes, sweetheart,” she giggled. “No… you hang up first.”
Just then, the office door opened cautiously.
A young man stepped inside, clutching a folder tightly against his chest. He looked around nervously before approaching the reception desk.
“Excuse me, ma’am…”
Without lifting her eyes from the computer screen, the receptionist raised one finger.
“One moment.”
She returned to her phone.
“…Yes, darling, I miss you too.”
The young man waited politely.
A few seconds passed.
He tried again.
“…Excuse me?”
Still nothing.
He cleared his throat.
“Ma’am?”
The receptionist suddenly slammed her phone onto the desk.
“YES?! HOW CAN I HELP YOU?!”
The poor man nearly jumped out of his shoes.
“I-I’m looking for the Human Resources department.”
She lazily pointed towards a corridor.
“Third door on the left.”
“Oh… thank you.”
Relieved, the young man started walking away.
He had barely taken two steps when—
BANG!
The HR office door burst open.
A furious employee stormed out carrying a computer monitor above his head.
“I’M DONE!”
With one dramatic swing, he smashed it onto the floor.
CRASH!
“I CAN’T TAKE THIS PLACE ANYMORE!”
Without looking back, he marched straight out of the building.
The entire office fell silent.
For exactly three seconds.
Then everyone calmly returned to work as though nothing unusual had happened.
The young man stared after him.
“…Should I come back tomorrow?”
Unsure of what he had just witnessed, he slowly returned to the reception desk.
“Um… excuse me again.”
The receptionist closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
“What now?”
“I’m actually here for a job interview.”
She pointed toward another office.
“Next door.”
“Mr. Thompson.”
“Oh… right.”
“Thank you.”
The young man walked toward the office and stopped outside the door.
He adjusted his tie and took a deep breath.
Easy…
Not too deep.
You’ll choke on your own saliva.
He knocked politely.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
After hesitating for a moment, he slowly pushed the door open.
The office was surprisingly tidy.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man wearing a neat suit.
Unfortunately, he was fast asleep.
His gentle snoring echoed throughout the room.
The young man stepped closer.
“Sir…?”
No response.
“Mr. Thompson?”
Still asleep.
Carefully, he reached out and gently tapped the man’s shoulder.
Mr. Thompson’s eyes flew open.
He shot upright in his chair and shouted—
“YOU’RE GAY!”
Silence.
The young man froze.
Mr. Thompson blinked several times before rubbing his face.
“…Oh.”
A beat passed.
“…Sorry.”
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Wrong dream.”
The young man forced an uneasy smile.
“That’s… quite alright, sir.”
Mr. Thompson straightened his tie as though absolutely nothing strange had happened.
“So,” he said, reaching for a pen, “what can I do for you today?”
“I’m here for a job interview.”
“Splendid.”
He picked up an application form and smiled professionally.
“Let’s begin.”
Mr. Thompson glanced at the application form.
“Right then, Mister Salmon. Let’s begin with a few simple questions.”
“I’m ready, sir.”
“Excellent.”
He looked down at the form.
“First question… what’s your greatest strength?”
Mister Salmon smiled confidently.
“I’m hardworking.”
Mr. Thompson nodded.
“I’m honest.”
Another nod.
“Good.”
Mister Salmon paused.
“And I only panic twice a day.”
Mr. Thompson stopped writing.
“…Only twice?”
“On a good day.”
Mr. Thompson quietly scribbled something onto the application form, trying not to smile.
Emotionally stable… probably.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
He flipped to the next page.
“Can you work under pressure?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Wonderful.”
Mister Salmon scratched his head.
“How much pressure?”
Mr. Thompson frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… deadlines…”
He hesitated.
“…or someone physically sitting on me?”
Mr. Thompson stared at him for a long moment.
“…Deadlines.”
“Oh.”
Mister Salmon nodded.
“Then yes.”
Mr. Thompson nodded slowly before moving on.
“Can you use Microsoft Excel?”
“Of course.”
“What can you do?”
“I can open it.”
Mr. Thompson waited.
“…And?”
“I can close it.”
Silence.
“…Anything else?”
Mister Salmon thought for a moment.
“I once accidentally deleted the company’s monthly report.”
Mr. Thompson quietly crossed something out on the application form.
“I’ll write…”
He paused.
“…basic computer skills.”
Just then—
BANG!
The office door burst open.
The furious employee from earlier rushed inside.
“MR. THOMPSON!”
Mr. Thompson looked up.
“What happened now?”
“The printer has stopped working!”
Mr. Thompson remained perfectly calm.
“Have you tried hitting it?”
“Yes.”
“Throwing it?”
“Yes.”
“Turning it off and on again?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Thompson leaned back in his chair.
“Hmm…”
The employee waited anxiously.
Nearly ten seconds of complete silence passed.
Finally, Mr. Thompson nodded.
“Well…”
He sighed.
“…that’s unfortunate.”
The employee blinked.
“…That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“…No solution?”
“No.”
The employee stared at him.
Then sighed.
“I quit.”
“You already did.”
“Oh.”
He paused.
“Right.”
He quietly walked back out of the office.
Mister Salmon watched the entire conversation without saying a word.
After a moment, he looked at Mr. Thompson.
“…Does that happen often?”
Mr. Thompson sighed.
“Every Monday.”
He looked back at the application form.
“Final question.”
Mister Salmon sat up straight.
“Why do you want to work here?”
Mister Salmon thought carefully.
“Because I need a job.”
Mr. Thompson smiled.
“Good answer.”
He stood up and extended his hand.
“Congratulations.”
Mister Salmon’s face lit up.
“I got the job?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
Relieved, Mister Salmon shook his hand enthusiastically.
“Thank you so much, sir!”
Mr. Thompson smiled warmly.
“You’re our new HR Manager.”
Silence.
Mister Salmon slowly stopped smiling.
“…Excuse me?”
“I applied to be a receptionist.”
“I know.”
Mr. Thompson picked up his coffee mug and slipped on his jacket.
“But after surviving this interview…”
He paused at the door.
“…you’re clearly the bravest person in this building.”
Before Mister Salmon could respond, Mr. Thompson walked out.
Five seconds later—
“I QUIT!”
The office door slammed shut.
Mister Salmon sat alone in complete silence.
He slowly looked out of the office window.
Outside, a long queue of nervous job applicants had already formed.
Some were fixing their ties.
Others were rehearsing interview answers.
Mister Salmon looked down at the thick folder Mr. Thompson had left behind.
On the cover was a handwritten note:
HR Manager Handbook
Volume One of Twelve
He swallowed.
“…Oh dear.”
The office telephone suddenly rang.
Mister Salmon stared at it.
It rang again.
He hesitated for a moment before finally answering.
“Human Resources…”
A cheerful voice replied,
“Hello! I’m here for a walk-in interview.”
Mister Salmon closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath.
Then, with the exhausted voice of a man who had just realized his life had taken a terrible turn, he replied—
“…Next applicant, please.”
