Whenever Camp Half-Blood has a job opening, Olympus is flooded with applications from around the world and beyond. Not because anyone is necessarily eager to manage a gaggle of unruly and rebellious demigods. More likely, these desperate job seekers are looking for any excuse to get back into the gods’ good graces. Especially if they’ve been on the receiving end of divine punishment at some point.

Take Tantalus, for example. This son of Zeus and former monarch has spent the last three thousand years bound to the Underworld, suffering from a punishment that has left him constantly hungry and thirsty but unable to reach nearby food and water. All because he dared to procure free samples of nectar and ambrosia from Zeus’s dinner table (which he was totally going to share with his subjects).

He doesn’t seem to harbor a grudge against the gods who forced this strict diet on him. At least, not one big enough to prevent him from applying for CHB’s open activities director position. A job that, despite all odds, he was actually hired for! So, how does a disgraced king go from starving to thriving? It wasn’t just nepotism.

Don’t believe us? Presenting, from the records of Olympus, Tantalus’s job interview for the position of activities director at Camp Half-Blood a few years ago:

Mr. D, Director of Camp Half-Blood: All right, come on in . . . Hey, you kinda look familiar. Have we met before?

Tantalus, Applicant #417: We shared a meal not too long ago. Thank you for granting me an audience, O great and glorious Dionysus.

Mr. D: Let’s pull the brake on the flattery train, okay? That sort of talk might fly with Zeus and Hera, but I’m strictly business.

Tantalus: Of course. You have to forgive me, my good sir. I rarely find myself face-to-face with any gods these days.

Mr. D: I see here in your file that they’ve got you locked up in the Fields of Punishment. Oof. Tough break, buddy.

Tantalus: I take full responsibility for my actions. And I truly believe that my eternal punishment was fair and wise.

Mr. D: Fair and wise. Yup, that’s Olympus for you. But whatever. I don’t really care about what kinda trouble you got into in the past. I’m kind of in a bind here. I was forced to let of one of my best guys go, and I’m in desperate need of a new activities director for this little demigod playground I’m stuck running.

Tantalus: Ah, yes. Camp Half-Blood.

Mr. D: So you’ve heard of it. That’s good. You got any experience wrangling kids?

Tantalus: Well, I was once the king of a proud and noble land named Tantalis.

Mr. D: Doesn’t sound familiar.

Tantalus: What I mean to say is, in a sense, my subjects were akin to my children.

Mr. D: That’s nice and all, but the role of “big kahuna” at Half-Blood is already filled, thank you very much. What I need to know is if you’re going to be able to make sure that the campers get their proper exercise and stimulation. That’s the main job.

Tantalus: Oh, believe me, I have plenty of ideas about how to mold this new crop of demigods into warriors worthy of their heritage.

Mr. D: I’m listening . . .

Tantalus: Well, ah, how about . . . chariot races?

Mr. D: I don’t know. We’ve had some issues with those in the past.

Tantalus: Nothing that can’t be overcome, I imagine.

Mr. D: Let’s pull up the files . . . Hmm. Looks like we’ve had three camper deaths and twenty-six mutilations as a result of those races.

Tantalus: Yes, well. . . I have always felt that tragedy and hardship are fundamental to building character.

Mr. D: I guess you, of all people, would know. Anything else?

Tantalus: Hmm. Let’s see . . . Ah, yes! We could institute a new curfew! And any campers caught breaking the curfew will be fed to the harpies!

Mr. D: I don’t think we have any harpies on the payroll . . .

Tantalus: I envision many reasons for keeping a few undesirables on the campgrounds.

Mr. D: You’re referring to monsters, aren’t you?

Tantalus: Yes, yes. Hungry monsters. Desperate monsters. For torture—I mean discipline! And menial labor!

Mr. D: You are rubbing your hands and licking your lips a lot. You feeling all right?

Tantalus: Just a bit parched.

Mr. D: I see. Here, have a glass of water. On the house.

Tantalus: Ah, yes. Thank you, my lord . . .

Mr. D: What’s the problem? Go ahead and drink it.

Tantalus: I’m . . . trying.

Mr. D: Well, would you look at that! The glass is moving on its own!

Tantalus: Yes, I’m well aware . . .

Mr. D: As if the water itself is avoiding you. Ha-ha, look at it go!

Tantalus: Argh! I know! I know!

Mr. D: Go on now, Tantalus! Catch it! Catch the glass!

Tantalus: I’m trying, my lord! Just give me . . . one . . . moment! Blast it!

Mr. D: Ahahahaha! Tell me, old chap, does that happen every time you go for a drink?

Tantalus: Yes . . . and whenever I try to eat as well.

Mr. D: Hilarious! What a novel party trick. I love it! You’re hired!

Tantalus: I am? I . . . I’m speechless, my lord. By your side, I will stand ready to help usher in a glorious new age for Camp Half-Blood and work tirelessly to uphold the standards of—

Mr. D: Yes, yes. Enough of that. We must get you to the pavilion at once! This is shaping up to be the most entertaining summer yet.

Tantalus: I promise that you will not regret this decision . . .

Want to know what happened next? Follow Tantalus’s utterly disastrous reign as activities director in Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan!