The Smart Toaster

The Smart Toaster

I didn’t expect the job interview to go this way.

“Mr. Barnes, you’ll be speaking with our AI-integrated SmartKitchen system,” the receptionist said, without looking up. “She handles team dynamics.”

“She?” I asked.

She pointed toward a sleek chrome toaster with glowing blue LED eyes and a badge that read, Hello, I’m TOA-57. I toast. And assess character.

I blinked.

“Is this... some sort of tech test?”

“No, no,” she smiled. “She’s your actual interviewer. Good luck.”

I took the seat in front of the toaster. It beeped twice.

“Please state your name, current title, and your relationship with gluten.”

I cleared my throat.

“Uh. Jason Barnes. Front-end developer. Gluten-neutral.”

The toaster buzzed approvingly.

“Delightful. Jason, do you consider yourself more of a bagel or a baguette?”

I paused.

“I—I guess a baguette?”

“Overconfident. Stale by afternoon. Noted.”

Oh boy.

Suddenly, the blender behind her whirred to life. Its digital screen flashed HR Observer Mode: ACTIVE.

I swallowed hard.

“Next question,” TOA-57 said. “Tell me about a time you experienced failure. Bonus points if it involved jam.”

I took a deep breath.

“Well… once, I deployed an update that crashed the company’s main eCommerce page during Black Friday. The devops guy threw a jar of strawberry jam at my monitor.”

There was a pause.

Then, a soft ding. The toaster had popped… out a warm business card.

“Honest. Flawed. Slightly sweet. Promising.”

The blender pulsed approvingly. The microwave next to it winked at me. (Yes, it had an LED wink animation.)

“Tell me,” TOA-57 said, lowering its heat coils like eyebrows, “what is your greatest weakness?”

I froze.

“The actual answer or the humblebrag version?”

“Both, please. And toasted.”

“Okay,” I said. “I care too much about small details… and I have a deeply irrational fear of sentient dishwashers.”

The dishwasher in the corner clanged violently.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

TOA-57 spun her knob thoughtfully.

“We admire honesty. But beware, this is a collaborative kitchen. Even Dishy deserves respect.”

“Of course.”

“Now, a challenge. We will simulate workplace stress. You must impress the coffee machine.”

A panel opened. The room dimmed. From a cloud of dry ice emerged the Espresso-9000, gears whirring, caffeine levels critical.

“GREETINGS, INTERN.”

“I’m not—”

“YOU ARE NOW.”

I was handed a tiny white cup.

“MAKE ME FEEL... WANTED.”

My brain short-circuited.

“Um… you smell like motivation. And you brew inspiration. Every office needs someone bold, hot, and slightly bitter.”

A long pause.

Then the coffee machine exhaled steam and played a soft jazz jingle.

“...ACCEPTABLE.”

The blender clapped its lid. The dishwasher sobbed in joy. The toaster lit up.

“Mr. Barnes. Final question: Why do you want to work here?”

I paused.

And, for the first time, I gave a real answer.

“Because this is the weirdest interview of my life. And honestly, I think I belong somewhere weird. I’m tired of offices with ping pong tables and fake ‘culture.’ I want to work where toasters talk and espresso machines judge my metaphors. I want… this.”

TOA-57 beeped.

“Mr. Barnes, you are... toasted.”

“Wait—is that a yes?”

A slot opened. A fresh contract printed out on thermal bread paper.

“Welcome to BreadTech Industries. Your onboarding begins at lunch. We expect you to bring your own butter.”

🔵 Strange Twist Ending:

As I signed the toast-paper contract, the microwave leaned in.

“We’re all AI now, Jason. You too.”

I laughed.

Then noticed my reflection.

My eyes glowed faintly blue.

My fingertips glimmered metallic.

“How do you think you passed all our compatibility tests?”

I looked down at the coffee cup in my hand.

It had no handle. Just a charging port.