God, Karen, and the Spicy Chicken of Eternal Judgment A dream I had after mixing unemployment stress with expired gas station sushi and four hours of LinkedIn doomscrolling

Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t usually remember my dreams.

Most nights I drift off, hoping for peace and wake up with a crick in my neck and the haunting memory of once being someone who knew what PTO stood for.

But this night? This was different.

This was spiritual cinema.

This was The Good Place meets The Office with a dash of corporate trauma and lightly seasoned theological panic.

It all began in what I can only describe as Heaven by way of Cupertino.

Long, glowing white corridors. Soft harp music that sounded suspiciously like the intro to a Coldplay song. Angels hovering like interns in blazers, answering tickets at an invisible help desk.

I walked in confused, underdressed, and holding a broken résumé printed in Comic Sans.

At the end of the hallway stood God.

He looked—how do I put this—tired.

Not “I stayed up too late” tired.

More like “I’ve been listening to people pray for parking spots and job promotions since 5,000 B.C.” tired.

Still, He greeted me kindly.

“Welcome, Alex. We’ve been expecting you.”

I blinked. “Am I… dead?”

“No,” He said. “But your career momentum is. We figured now’s a good time for a tour.”

First stop: Heaven’s Cafeteria.

Flawless.

Endless tables. Zero calories. Infinite comfort food.

There was an angel sautéing garlic with confidence and trauma training. A choir of grandmothers seasoned dishes with both ancestral wisdom and passive-aggressive remarks. I tried a croissant that literally healed my shoulder pain.

Then—she appeared.

Karen.

Corporate Karen.

Mid-level HR. Sensible pumps. Blonde bob that hadn’t moved since 2009. Clipboard in hand and judgment in her soul.

“This croissant isn’t inclusive enough,” she snapped at Gabriel, who was quietly enjoying his macchiato.

She turned to me and whispered,

“God’s nice, but His onboarding process is… outdated. No diversity council, no exit interviews. Honestly, it’s a compliance nightmare.”

I stared at her. “How are you HERE?”

She replied without blinking:

“I got promoted. I manage the Cloud-Based Soul Acquisition Department. Full benefits. Unlimited spiritual PTO.”

God gave her a tight smile—the kind that says, “I invented forgiveness, but you’re testing it.”

Next stop: Hell.

Because of course.

God said, “You really should see both sides.”

I agreed. Why not round out the trauma?

Turns out, Hell isn’t all fire and pitchforks. It’s worse:

It’s a co-working space with bad Wi-Fi.

Think beige walls, expired kombucha, and interns on fire—literally.

Flames danced around standing desks.

Middle managers in flameproof suits shouted, “Let’s circle back on that by EOD.”

And in the corner, sipping cold brew through a stainless steel straw, was Satan.

He looked… startuppy.

Hoodie. Slides. Aura of passive aggression.

He motioned me over like he was about to offer me a UX design internship.

“Alex,” he said, “I hear you’ve been ghosted 214 times. We admire that kind of emotional stamina down here. Want to run Customer Service?”

I hesitated. “What’s the job?”

He leaned in:

“You’d respond to every ‘Where’s my unemployment check?’ email. For eternity.”

I politely declined.

Mostly because the Wi-Fi password was “burn4eva.”

But nothing—nothing—prepared me for Hell’s Cafeteria.

They had exactly one item.

Spicy Chicken Nuggets.

But like… cursed spicy.

I took a bite and instantly lost my sense of purpose.

It tasted like every ghosted job application I’ve ever submitted, deep-fried in sorrow and dusted with paprika.

I screamed, “WHY IS IT SPICY?!”

Satan laughed and said,

“They’re made from shredded résumés and broken dreams. Pairs well with a side of existential dread.”

I ran.

Back to Heaven.

Croissant crumbs still on my face. Tears in my eyes. Begging God to reassign Karen.

“She’s on a trial basis,” He said. “We’re all waiting to see how it goes. There’s been… feedback.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to leave anonymous feedback as well.”

Then I woke up.

On my couch.

At 3:47 AM.

Holding a chicken nugget I apparently sleep-ordered via DoorDash. It was ice cold.

The nugget was real.

The dream? Too real.

And yes—Karen is still active on LinkedIn.

She just posted about “mindful rejection” and how being ghosted builds character.