Satan looked down his angular nose at the demon sitting in front of him. The portly creature squirmed in his seat. Good, Satan thought, don't want them getting comfortable. "Name?"He asked.

"Gluttony, Sir, it's right there on my app--"

Satan held up a hand. "I can see that. I wanted to know if you knew your name."

The demon cowered. "Yes Sir. Right Sir."

Satan smiled. "Tell me, where do you see yourself in four or five millenniums?"

The demon's face brightened. He'd prepared for this question. "In your job, Sir. Of course, that's after you've moved up to --"

"NEXT!"

The portly demon was stunned. "W-What? Wasn't that the right answer? All the books on interviewing said to be: confident, ambitious, and to --"
Satan waved his explanation off. "The last thing I need is an ambitious assistant. This is Hell, not some tech company."Satan paused. "Actually, they're rather the same thing, aren't they? In any case, no, thank you, bye bye, have a nice day."He pressed a button on his desk.

A rather burly Succubus entered the office, picked the demon up by his ears, and removed him from the room. Satan was left to ponder the cruelties of the universe. A good assistant would need watching but any assistant who didn't need watching wouldn't be good. He needed someone with just the right balance of initiative and fear.

Reaching for the next resume Satan heard the applicant enter the room. He looked up and caught his breath. There, standing in his office was that ruddy-cheeked, white-bearded, bastion of Heaven -- St. Peter. He was even wearing a nicely tailored gray suit with a red power tie. "What are you doing here?"

St. Peter beamed. "Applying for a job."

"What job?"

"This job."

"This job?"

"That's the one."

Satan hesitated. "You're pulling my leg."

"Nope. That's my resume."He pointed at the paper in Satan's hand.

Satan glanced down and saw that it was St. Peter's resume. "What game are you playing?"

"No game. I want to be your assistant."

Satan frowned. He'd dealt with St. Peter before and each time the crafty do-gooder had tricked him. And they called Satan the Lord of Liars.

"I never lie,"St. Peter offered.

"Stay out of my head,"Satan snarled, "and when did you become a mind reader?"

"I'm not, but it doesn't take a mind reader to know what you're thinking."

Satan wasn't about to let him win. "Fine. You want to do this? We'll do it. Name?"

"Simon Peter, Son of Jona."

Satan checked the resume. That was correct. But he felt confident the next question would trip up the old missionary. "In four or five millenniums, where do you see yourself?"

"Right here, by your side."

Satan paused. "You don't see yourself advancing in the organization?"

Peter frowned. "No. You're devoted to the destruction of the universe and the downfall of Heaven. I'd never want your job."

"Hah!"Satan cried triumphantly. "So you're saying you'd be a disloyal employee and attempt to undermine me at every turn?"

Peter shook his head. "Hardly. I'm honest, loyal, and supportive. My devotion is my biggest strength."

"And what would you say is your biggest weakness?"Satan had gotten that gem out of article he'd read in "Manager's Weekly."

"Hmmmm,"Peter said while stroking his beard, "I guess I'd have to say: not being evil."

"Then why in,"he pointed upward, "his name, do you want THIS job?"

Peter smiled. It was such a caring expression that it made Satan's stomach flip. "Cause you need me. You can't trust any of your minions but you can trust me. Also, since you know that I'd refuse to do anything evil. You can be confident that if I refuse to do it, it's something you'll want to do."

There was a certain inescapable logic to what he was saying but a saint as his assistant? That was insane. Better to end this now. "Well, you seem to have all the right qualifications. I'll have to think it over. Thank you for your interest and we'll be in touch."He rose to indicate that the interview was over.

Peter stood up and extended his hand. "Thank you for the chance to speak with you regarding this very exciting opportunity."

Satan gingerly shook St. Peter's hand before retaking his seat. Watching the saint depart, Satan couldn't help but think he was being had. But he couldn't figure out how. Reaching into a drawer he got out his bottle of antacids. The interviewing process was going to be worse, much worse, than he thought.

Outside the gates of Hell, St. Peter removed his jacket and loosened his tie. It had been hot in there. "So,"God's voice called out to him. "How did it go?"

St. Peter smiled. "Better than I'd hoped. He doesn't know what to think."

"But, he believes you?"

"If he didn't, he wouldn't be so confused right now."

God paused for a second. "Don't you think this might be a bit cruel?"

St. Peter shook his head. "No. We're offering him a qualified applicant. Finding good people is the toughest part of running any organization."

God concurred. "But that's the thing, we're offering him GOOD people. He won't know what to do."

"Exactly. If he doesn't know what to do, he won't do anything. And the longer he does nothing, the more market share he'll lose. That's more souls saved and fewer lost. I think we should send John in next. He's so perky you can bottle it. Should drive Old Scratch there nuts."

"And then?"

"Paul, tomorrow morning, Mathew in the afternoon. We'll run through all the apostles, then the saints, archangels, angels, martyrs, right down the line. We'll keep him busy interviewing for an assistant for centuries."

God chuckled. "You know Peter, there are days I'm glad you're on MY side."

Peter smiled with satisfaction. "Always, Lord, always."