Story 105: Reza Shadey Is Hiring
It was a Monday morning — a time usually reserved for snoozing — but Reza Shadey was wide awake, his magnificent whiskers twitching with grumpiness. He had lined up his three best friends by the garden fence. In his paw, he held a large, soggy leaf, which he was using as a clipboard in the way only a very serious (and slightly dramatic) cat can.
"Attention!" Reza barked, pacing up and down like a fluffy general who had read one too many leadership books. "I have called this emergency meeting to discuss your... Performance Reviews."
Ginger Tom yawned so widely you could see his tonsils. "My performance? I performed an excellent nap this morning. Truly world-class. Ten out of ten."
"Zero out of ten!" Reza shouted, scribbling nonsense on the soggy leaf. "I have been monitoring your KPIs — that means 'Kittens Providing Inspiration' — and you are all failing! If we were a team on CatLinkedIn, we would need one of those 'We're Hiring!' banners."
He pointed a claw at Tiger. "You bounce too much. It disturbs my thinking time. Grade: F for Fidgety."
He pointed at Penelope. "You wash your paws more than you tell me how handsome I am. Your priorities are all wrong. Grade: D for Distracted."
Then he glared at Ginger Tom. "And YOU! You ate the last chicken bite yesterday. That was a capital offence. Grade: Z for Zero Snacks For You."
"This team", Reza declared dramatically, throwing his leaf into the air, "is BROKEN. I am firing you as my minions! I am opening a recruitment campaign for a top-notch professional. Someone who understands greatness. Someone who worships... ME."
Penelope rolled her eyes. "Good luck with that, Rezzi. We're going to play tag."
As the others scampered away, Reza grabbed a crayon Mrs Higgins had dropped and scrawled a sign on the garden gate in enormous, wobbly letters:
WANTED: PERFECT MINION
Must enjoy fetching snacks, fanning me with leaves, and listening to my stories without yawning.
Must laugh at ALL my jokes (even the rubbish ones).
No bouncers. No excessive washers. No snack thieves.
Apply Within.
Ten minutes later, a shadow crossed the lawn. Reza looked up. A sleek Russian Blue stood before him — fur neat, posture perfect, expression calm and corporate. He looked as though he had been ironed.
"Greetings", said the stranger. His voice was crisp, like a fresh lettuce leaf. "I am Sterling. I saw your advertisement. I am a Grade A Executive Assistant Cat. Globally recognised. Award-winning. I specialise in efficiency, scheduling, and clutter management."
Reza's eyes sparkled. "Executive? Sounds fancy! Can you open a fridge?"
"I can organise a fridge", Sterling replied smoothly. "And I colour-code snacks."
"You're hired!" Reza cheered. "Go fetch me a delicious lunch! Something fishy! The biggest, gooiest lunch in history!"
Sterling nodded once. "Acknowledged. Making an impact begins with good nutrition." He trotted into the house.
Reza lay back on his sun-lounger, feeling smug. "Finally! A servant worthy of me!"
Two minutes later, Sterling returned carrying... a bowl of water and three dry biscuits arranged in a perfect triangle.
Reza sat bolt upright. "Where is the salmon? Where is the gravy waterfall?"
"I analysed your dietary requirements", Sterling said, tapping an imaginary clipboard. "Gravy causes lethargy. To optimise your napping efficiency, you require hydration and light carbs."
"OPTIMISE MY WHAT?!" Reza squeaked.
"Eat up", Sterling continued. "We have a tight schedule. At 2:00 we have Grooming. At 2:15 we have Structured Staring at Birds. At 2:30 we have a Power Nap — seven minutes exactly."
"But I nap until four!" Reza protested.
"Inefficient", Sterling replied, producing a comb the size of a rake. "Also, your tail fluff deviates in four unacceptable directions. Hold still."
For the rest of the hour, Reza suffered through a nightmare of tidiness. Sterling made him sit in straight lines. He moved Reza's favourite toy mouse into the bin because it was "clutter in the workspace." When Reza tried to chase a butterfly, Sterling stopped him.
"No sprinting. It creates dust."
By 3:00 PM, Reza was rigid on a mat, perfectly groomed, utterly miserable, and very hungry. Sterling inspected the biscuit bowl.
"Excuse me", Sterling said. "I've colour-coded your biscuits. Brown first, then red. Mixing them is chaotic."
That was the final straw.
"CHAOS IS MY MIDDLE NAME!" Reza roared, leaping up and deliberately knocking the bowl over. Biscuits flew everywhere — a glorious, riotous, un-optimised explosion of crumbs.
Sterling gasped. "The disorder! The toxicity! This environment is not aligned with my strategic values."
"YOU'RE the toxic one!" Reza yowled. "You threw away my toy! You made me drink plain water! You are the worst minion EVER!"
Sterling lifted his chin, brushed a speck of dust from his shoulder, and sniffed. "I am resigning immediately. I have accepted an offer from the poodle at number 42. She appreciates structure." With a dignified swish of his perfect grey tail, he marched away.
Reza slumped onto the grass, exhausted. Across the fence, Tiger was gloriously muddy. Penelope had a leaf stuck to her ear. Ginger Tom was eating snacks in a manner that could only be described as "catastrophically messy".
"FRIENDS!" Reza cried, racing to them. "I missed you! You're noisy! You're cluttered! You're all completely un-colour-coded!"
Ginger Tom paused mid-chew. "Is this another performance review, Reza?"
"No!" Reza purred, rubbing against Tiger's muddy shoulder. "It means you're perfect. Being perfect is boring. Being messy is fun. Please re-join my team — I offer excellent culture, zero schedules, and unlimited chaos."
Penelope grinned. "Do we get a pay rise?"
"Yes", Reza sighed happily. "You may watch me eat the colour-coded biscuits... in the wrong order."
Mrs Higgins says: It's good to be tidy sometimes, but even better to let your friends be themselves. Nobody likes a bossy-boots who takes all the fun out of playing!
Night night. Sleep tight.