Company Training Day 2025 (Part 3): Pastries, Humanoids, and Gustavo’s Brush with Destiny

Saturday Training Day 2025 wasn’t done with Gustavo yet. After pastries, speeches, and the awkward attempts of management to inject “fun” into corporate learning, the final act of the day pushed the boundaries of reason. Between buffet food comas, Quality Assurance lectures, and what may or may not have been an alien invasion, this part of Gustavo’s journey proved that absurdity can strike even at the heart of a corporate event.

Post-Buffet Chaos

Bellies stretched, belts loosened, and yawns echoed through the lavish hotel function hall. The coffee station became a battlefield as overstuffed employees fought for caffeine to survive the dreaded “afternoon slump.”

But there was Gustavo, a man with his own strategy: a fresh plate of roasted chicken wings and potato wedges.

“Damn, Gustavo! Really making the most of it, huh?” Gaspar said, eyeing his teammate’s fourth plate.

“I don’t plan on buying dinner tonight, man. This is paid for already,” Gustavo replied mid-bite, chicken grease shining proudly on his lips.

Before anyone could argue, Archie’s voice cut through the murmurs:

“We now welcome Sandy, our Chief of Quality Assurance, to discuss the 3 R’s of effective quality management. Please give her a round of applause.”

A slow, half-hearted clap rolled across the room. Underwriting was still outside on a smoke break. Claims was on the brink of a food coma. And Sandy… Sandy had the unenviable job of keeping an uninterested, burping crowd awake.

“Quality gets the short end again,” Gustavo muttered, scarfing down his wedges. “Nobody likes the fault-finders.”

The Humanoids Arrive

Then, everything changed.

A bright flash from the hotel’s massive windows.

BANG!

The western wall exploded inward, sending debris across the room. Lights flickered, then died. Screams erupted as terrified employees scrambled under tables.

“OH MY GOD!”

“JESUS HELP US!”

“IS THIS A TERRORIST ATTACK?!”

But it wasn’t terrorists.

Through the smoke, a saucer-like craft descended. The hatch hissed open, releasing two masked humanoids who strode toward the stage. Sandy froze mid-presentation, laser pointer trembling in her hand.

One humanoid seized her microphone. The hall’s lights blazed back on, illuminating chaos: overturned tables, bloodied but bewildered employees, and at the Claims table, Gustavo—still chewing a wing.

Nothing says corporate Training Day like free pastries, awkward speeches, and surprise humanoid invasions mid-presentation.

“Humans,” the humanoid thundered, “for so long you have baffled us. Angels watch you with confusion on the sidelines asking why would Father bless you monkeys with reason. You repugnant creatures have continuously squandered the ability to lift an eye to heaven conscious of your fleeting time here.”

The audience fell silent. Then a voice cut through.

“…Wait. Isn’t that a Tool song?”

The humanoid paused. “We… appreciate that one,” he admitted softly, before snapping back to fury. “SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR FILTHY WHORE MOUTH!”

Humanity’s Final Test

The second humanoid gestured, and world leaders stumbled out of the craft in chains—Trump, Putin, Netanyahu, Marcos—all reduced to weeping, snotty shadows of their former power.

“We have gathered your leaders. The purge begins now. But before we end you, we give your kind one chance at redemption.”

Cameras flew from the saucer, circling the crowd before locking onto one man.

Gustavo.

There he sat, mid-bite, barbecue sauce on his lips and an idiotic glaze in his eyes.

“You, Gustavo,” the humanoid declared, “embody your species. You are unremarkable by every metric. A master of the bare minimum. The personification of wasted potential. A man just waiting for death’s embrace. Ladies and gentlemen—this is humanity.”

Gasps filled the hall. Tina whimpered. Ayan clutched Gustavo’s arm.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered, hugging him tight. “You’ve always pulled through for me. You’ll pull through now.”

With a snap, Gustavo vanished from his chair and reappeared onstage.

The humanoid raised a hand. Another snap. Suddenly, Maui Taylor, Joyce Jimenez, and Diana Zubiri materialized—Philippine sex symbols of decades past.

“To secure your species’ survival, Gustavo, you must bring each of these women to climax. Fifteen times each.”

The crowd gasped. A chicken wing dropped from Gustavo’s trembling hand. His knees buckled. Tears welled.

“I can’t do this…” he mutteted.

The room went still. Then—

“You can do it!” Rob Schneider shouted.

“You’re a sexy beast!” Austin Powers added.

Celebrities poured in—from Bill Nye to Yua Mikami—cheering Gustavo on. Even Trump, shackled to the side, tried to join in: “Grab ’em by the pus—” before being drowned out by Push It to the Limit from Scarface blasting from the speakers.

The crowd roared. Employees chanted his name. “GUSTAVO! GUSTAVO! GUSTAVO!”

With a sly smile, Gustavo ripped off his clothes, revealing urine-stained underwear, and raised his hands to the thunderous ovation. Humanity’s hero was ready.

The Dream Breaks

“Gustavo! Wake the hell up!”

He jolted upright. No humanoids. No celebrities. Just Sandy still lecturing about the “3 R’s of quality management.”

“Could you at least make it seem like you care?” Ayan sighed.

“What do you mean? I care,” Gustavo muttered, rubbing drool from his cheek.

“Oh yeah? Then what were the 3 R’s Sandy mentioned?”

“…Reduce, Reuse, Recycle?”

Ayan rolled her eyes. “Come on. Let’s slip out. This is basically over.”

Cigarettes and Mint Candies

Out in the smoking area, the air was cooler. Ayan took a drag and laughed. “You made it past 3 PM. Longer than last year.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a team player,” Gustavo smirked, handing her a mint candy.

“You’re full of crap,” she said, but smiled anyway.

The two smoked in silence, the laughter and muffled speeches of the hotel fading behind them.

The Ceremony Ends

Time passed. Back inside, the final speaker wrapped up, and Zoey took the mic.

“Thank you, everyone, for joining Training Day 2025. We hope you had a fun and productive time!”

The crowd cheered politely, already dreaming of bed.

“Hey, where’s Gustavo?” Tina asked, scanning the tables.

Ayan didn’t miss a beat. “Already home. Chips on his belly, lewd anime on his phone. You know him.”

“Sounds about right,” Gaspar said with a grin.

And so, Training Day 2025 ended not with glory, but with the quiet certainty that if the world ever needed saving, Gustavo would probably be asleep.

If you enjoyed Gustavo’s chaotic finale, don’t miss the build-up—complete with pastries, speeches, and his trademark apathy. Catch up on Part 1 and Part 2 to experience the full absurdity of Training Day 2025