The day HR became a Robot

The other day I had an in-person interview at a high-tech company. You know the type—glass walls, bean bag chairs, kombucha on tap, and a lobby that looks more like a spaceship than an office. I walked in expecting the usual: a nervous handshake, a recruiter with a clipboard, maybe even a motivational poster about teamwork. But when the HR manager came out to greet me, I froze. Because the HR manager… was an AI robot.

Not a robot in the metaphorical sense, like “this person lacks personality.” No, I mean a literal blinking, humming, silicon-powered machine. Chrome finish, blinking eyes, and a badge that actually read “Human Resources Manager, Model X.3.” The future had arrived, and apparently it was conducting interviews.

Now here’s the thing—you all know me. I’ve made a hobby out of breaking AI hiring bots. I’ve sent them résumés written in haikus, cover letters formatted like breakup notes, and entire applications where my only listed skill was “being overqualified.” So naturally, the second I sat down across from this robot, I wasn’t thinking about the interview. I was thinking, “How can I mess with this thing?”

The robot started with the usual pleasantries. “Welcome, candidate. Please confirm your full legal name.” I responded, “Legend.” It blinked twice, processed for six seconds, and replied, “Input not recognized. Reverting to government database.” Strike one.

Then it launched into the classic behavioral questions. “Describe a time you overcame a challenge at work.” Easy setup. I leaned forward and said, “Well, one time I had to negotiate with a vending machine. It ate my dollar, but through persistence, resilience, and gentle shaking, I secured my snack. It taught me the value of patience and strategic problem solving.” The robot whirred, clicked, and finally said, “Noted. Categorized as conflict resolution.” Strike two.

At this point, I realized I could push further. “What is your greatest weakness?” it asked. I smiled. “I care too much, I work too hard, and I have a crippling addiction to pancakes at Cracker Barrel.” The robot paused so long I thought I broke it. Finally it responded, “Warning: carbohydrate references not relevant to job description.” Strike three.

But I wasn’t done. The final question: “Why should we hire you?” I locked eyes—or whatever it uses for eyes—and said, “Because unlike you, I can survive a power outage.” The silence was deafening. Then it printed out a slip of paper, like a grocery receipt, that simply read: “Candidate: flagged for sarcasm.”

I walked out of there laughing. Not because I bombed the interview (which, let’s be real, I did), but because it proved what I’ve been saying all along: the job market has officially turned into a sci-fi comedy. Forget Black Mirror—this is Office Space meets The Jetsons.

And here’s the kicker: I don’t even know if there was a real human behind the scenes, reviewing the data, or if my entire career fate was decided by a toaster with Wi-Fi. Either way, I didn’t get the job. But honestly? That’s fine. Because somewhere out there, there’s a hiring manager who still laughs at sarcasm. Somewhere out there, there’s a company where the HR rep doesn’t need a software update.

Until then, I’ll keep breaking bots, one interview at a time. Because if the machines are taking over hiring, the least we can do is make them short-circuit with a few good jokes.

Legends don’t just apply. Legends confuse the algorithm.