When I Took My Dog to a Job Interview

When I Took My Dog to a Job Interview

It all started with an email from Human Resources.

“Congratulations,” it read. “You have been shortlisted for an in-person interview. Please bring anything you feel will help demonstrate your skills.”

I stared at that line for far too long. Bring anything? That seemed a little reckless on their part. And that’s when Monty, my golden retriever, trotted into the room carrying his squeaky toy like it was a trophy. He wagged his tail as if to say, Take me, human. I’m your best skill.

The thought was ridiculous. But the more I imagined it, the more it made sense. Monty had charisma. He had presence. He could charm a burglar out of their mask. Surely he could charm an interview panel.

So, on the morning of the big day, I clipped on Monty’s leash, grabbed my résumé, and prayed the HR email counted as legal permission.

The first sign of trouble was the receptionist.

“Good morning,” she said brightly. Then she looked down. “Is… is that a dog?”

“Yes,” I replied with the confidence of a man who had already lost his mind. “This is Monty. He’s here to support my candidacy.”

Monty barked once, proudly. The receptionist raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop me. Perhaps she assumed I was applying for a dog-related role—vet assistant, pet groomer, canine life coach.

We sat in the waiting area, Monty panting happily beside me. Other candidates fidgeted with their notes, shot nervous glances at my companion, and tried to pretend it was normal for someone to bring a dog to a corporate interview. One man whispered, “Do we… all need dogs? Was that in the email?”

Before I could answer, the hiring manager appeared. “Mr. Daniels? We’re ready for you.”

I stood. Monty stood. Together, we marched in like a two-person army.

The interview panel consisted of three people in smart suits. They looked up as Monty trotted in, tongue out, tail wagging like a metronome.

“I see you’ve brought… a guest,” one of them said cautiously.

“This is Monty,” I explained. “He’s very committed to teamwork.”

Monty walked directly to the sternest-looking interviewer and plopped his head onto her lap. To my astonishment, she melted instantly, scratching behind his ears. “Well, aren’t you handsome?” she cooed.

Confidence surged through me. If Monty could win her over in thirty seconds, I might just get this job.

The first question was about problem-solving.

“Tell us about a time you faced a difficult challenge,” the manager said.

I launched into a story about managing tight deadlines, but halfway through, Monty decided it was the perfect moment to shake his entire body. Fur and drool scattered like confetti across the boardroom table. The panel blinked in surprise.

“Um,” I stammered, “as you can see, challenges can be… messy.”

They chuckled politely. Monty wagged harder.

Next came teamwork.

“How do you approach collaboration?” another panelist asked.

I gestured to Monty, who at that exact moment dropped his slobbery squeaky toy at the manager’s feet. “Like this,” I said. “Shared resources, open communication.”

The manager squeezed the toy. It squeaked. Monty barked joyfully. Laughter broke out around the table.

Things were going well until Monty spotted the refreshment table. In a flash, he bounded over, helped himself to a muffin, and returned proudly with crumbs all over his snout.

“I apologize,” I said quickly. “He believes in taking initiative.”

The panel roared with laughter. One of them scribbled something on their notepad—I could only hope it wasn’t candidate is insane.

Then came the final question: “Why should we hire you?”

Monty chose that exact moment to place a paw gently on my lap, gaze up with the soulful eyes of a dog who believes in you unconditionally.

I took a deep breath. “Because I have loyalty, commitment, and the ability to bring out the best in a team. Monty here is living proof of that.”

Silence. Then, unexpectedly, applause.

A week later, the email arrived:

“Dear Mr. Daniels, we are delighted to offer you the position. While we cannot officially hire Monty, we look forward to seeing him at company events.”

I grinned. Monty wagged as though he already knew. Maybe bringing a dog to a job interview wasn’t so crazy after all.