Mario was a man of ambition. Not the quiet, noble kind—but the kind that involved a Word document, a thesaurus, and a dangerously flexible relationship with the truth.
His résumé was a masterclass in fiction. According to it, he held a PhD in Quantum Blockchain Ethics from MIT (he once watched a TED Talk while microwaving noodles), spoke seven languages (including Parseltongue and “business casual”), and had “led global AI strategy” at a Fortune 500 firm (he’d once rebooted the office printer and called it a digital transformation).
He listed “cybersecurity architecture” under skills, though his most recent brush with tech was accidentally sending a cat meme to the compliance team. Still, Mario believed in the power of confidence. “It’s not lying,” he told himself. “It’s aspirational formatting.”
Miraculously, he landed a job at a prestigious fintech company as “Head of Digital Risk Strategy.” His first day was glorious. He wore a blazer. He used words like “synergy,” “blockchain-adjacent,” and “algorithmic trust.” He nodded thoughtfully during meetings, which everyone mistook for wisdom.
Then came the moment of truth.
“Mario,” said the CTO, “can you lead the AI ethics audit for our cross-border data platform?”
Mario blinked. “Absolutely,” he said, sweating through his blazer.
Three days later, the audit report was a 12-slide PowerPoint featuring stock images of robots shaking hands. One slide simply read: “Trust the Algorithm.” Another featured a pie chart labelled “Feelings.”
HR was not amused. Legal was less amused. The company’s actual AI flagged his report as “nonsensical.” Irony, it seemed, had a sense of humour.
Soon, Mario was escorted out—politely, but firmly. His exit interview was short.
“Any feedback?” they asked.
“Maybe don’t trust people who list ‘telepathic leadership’ as a skill,” he replied.
Mario now teaches résumé writing online. His first lesson? “Don’t be me.”
Legal Footnote for the Curious Reader
Lying on a résumé isn’t just a breach of trust—it can be a breach of law. If your fibs cause financial loss, reputational damage, or regulatory breaches, you could be out of a job and into a deposition. Courts don’t care if you added “Excel wizard” when you still use a calculator for pivot tables. They care about misrepresentation, reliance, and damages. So before you list “CEO of Blockchain” or “Certified Ethical Time Traveller,” remember honesty may not get you the job, but it will keep you out of jail. Mostly.
 |
| “Trust the algorithm, they said. The algorithm said: ‘Fire him.’” |
Disclaimer: Coincidence Is Not Conspiracy
All names, characters, credentials, and career catastrophes depicted in this article are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, employed or recently escorted out by HR, is purely coincidental and unintentionally hilarious.
References to degrees, job titles, or skill sets—such as "Head of Digital Risk Strategy.", “Certified Ethical Time Traveller” or “Head of Blockchain Vibes”—are used for satirical and illustrative purposes only. They do not reflect actual qualifications, unless someone out there really did major in Quantum Blockchain Ethics (in which case: wow, and also, sorry).
This piece is intended for educational and entertainment purposes. If you see yourself in it, please take it as a compliment to your imagination—not as a legal accusation. The author disclaims all liability for existential crises, résumé rewrites, or sudden urges to learn Excel.
No comments:
Post a Comment