The Wolf Now Runs HR

Once upon a quarterly report, the Wolf traded his fangs for a lanyard.

No more forest, no more moonlit hunts — just open-plan offices, ergonomic chairs, and the soft hum of ambition.

The prey had moved indoors, after all, hiding behind cubicles and passwords.

The Wolf was nothing if not adaptable.

Résumé, condensed:

- Extensive experience in resource acquisition (translation: devouring).

- Proven track record in conflict resolution (translation: eating the competition).

- Adept at managing cross-species relations (translation: pretending to tolerate sheep).

HR welcomed him with open arms.

They needed someone “firm but fair,” a leader with “natural authority.”

No one asked about his previous involvement in the grandmother incident.

No one wanted to.

On his first day, the Wolf replaced the breakroom coffee with herbal tea “for productivity.”

On his second, he updated the employee handbook to include a clause about mandatory vulnerability.

By Friday, he’d introduced The Trust Exercise — a team-building activity where junior staff were blindfolded and asked to “let the Wolf guide them.”

They called him approachable.

They called him transparent.

They called him “Mr. W.” when they thought he couldn’t hear.

Week Two:

The Wolf hosted Feedback Fridays. Employees were encouraged to “speak openly” in a safe space.

He listened intently, nodding, taking notes… then invited them to “step into his office” for a more private conversation.

Few returned. Those who did had noticeably shorter résumés.

Week Three:

Layoffs.

He didn’t bother with euphemisms. He called it harvest season.

The sheep in marketing bleated about morale.

The rabbits in accounting suggested mindfulness workshops.

The fox in sales — ever the opportunist — sold tickets to the next all-hands meeting.

The Wolf smiled through it all.

His performance reviews were flawless — written by himself, naturally, in the absence of any surviving supervisors.

He merged HR and Security.

Then HR and Catering.

Then HR and… the morgue.

By Quarter Two, the company culture had “evolved.”

Employees were expected to arrive early, stay late, and “volunteer” for the Wolf’s leadership retreats.

These retreats took place deep in the woods, without Wi-Fi, and ended with a bonfire of redundancies.

The Wolf’s official title was now Chief People Officer.

Unofficially, they called him the Head Hunter.

Performance Review Season:

New hires arrived, bright-eyed, clutching onboarding packets.

“We’re like a family here,” the Wolf said, shaking their hands with claws politely retracted.

And it was true — if you understood that in some families, someone always ends up eaten.

The survivors learned quickly:

- Never schedule a one-on-one during lunch hour.

- Never ask what happened to your predecessor.

- And never — under any circumstances — follow the Wolf into the breakroom after dark.

He runs HR now.

And in his quarterly report to the board, the last line is always the same:

“Employee turnover has never been higher. And neither has satisfaction… mine, at least.”