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Chapter 6: Teambuilding or Total Breakdown?
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2025-06-21 02:49:24If someone had told Katherine Brown that one day she’d be organizing a corporate teambuilding event for a bunch of number-crunching finance bros in stiff-collared shirts and suspiciously matching socks, she would’ve laughed. Loudly. Possibly while choking on a donut. Yet here she was—standing in the middle of a barely organized chaos called Fun Friday with a clipboard in one hand, a megaphone in the other, and glitter on her shoes. Actual glitter. From the budget she definitely didn’t get approved.
“Alright, team!” she shouted through the megaphone, causing one of the junior analysts to flinch so hard he dropped his smoothie. “Welcome to Mason Equity Group’s first-ever full-sensory bonding extravaganza!” A silence fell across the group. It was the kind of silence normally reserved for funerals or investor calls gone wrong. “Is this mandatory?” someone asked. “Only if you want to keep your job,” she replied sweetly, then winked. The worst part? No one was sure if she was joking. She’d pulled out all the stops: inflatable obstacle course on the rooftop (liability waiver pending), color-coded teams with ridiculous names (Team Spicy Portfolio, Team Capital Crunchers, and Team Hot Assets), and yes—matching neon sweatbands. Someone in HR had already fake-called their dentist to escape. Sitting in his office, watching the horror unfold through the one-way glass, Sebastian Mason felt his blood pressure rise by a conservative 30 points. He blinked twice, adjusted his cufflinks, and exhaled slowly. “She’s turned my company into a circus,” he muttered. “Technically,” his assistant piped in, “it’s more of a music festival. I think I heard the Macarena three times.” He stood. No words. Just the quiet intensity of a man walking into battle. He left the office like a storm in a suit. --- Meanwhile, Katherine was mid-way through explaining the “Trust Toss,” which she’d invented roughly thirty-seven minutes ago and involved juggling bean bags while shouting out stock terms. “And then,” she said, spinning on her heel, “we’ll finish with a group mural called Synergy Speaks. You’ll each use paint to express your feelings about teamwork. No rules. Except no profanity. We’re still, technically, professionals.” A low moan rippled through the crowd. At that precise moment, Sebastian arrived. “What. Is. This,” he said, voice low but lethal. Katherine turned, grinning. “Oh, hiya, boss man! Welcome to Fun Friday! Isn’t it fabulous?” His eyes scanned the mess—someone was already painting “YOLO” on the side of the office wall. A man was tangled in the inflatable slide. An intern had tears in her eyes. “Fun Friday?” he echoed, as if tasting something bitter. “Yes! You know—morale, bonding, breaking down hierarchies through the power of interpretive dance and glitter.” Sebastian closed his eyes. “Brown, how many rules of protocol have you violated in the last hour?” “Would it help if I said less than ten?” “No.” “Then definitely more than ten.” --- He pulled her aside. People gave them a wide berth, the way one might avoid wild animals mid-territorial dispute. “Do you have any idea what kind of legal nightmares this could trigger? Insurance? Safety? Public image?” Katherine crossed her arms, unfazed. “Do you have any idea how dead inside most of your employees are? Half of them didn’t know how to high-five.” “This isn’t a kindergarten, Miss Brown.” “No, but maybe it should be.” He stared. She stared back. It was a battle of sheer stubbornness—his refined, cold logic against her chaotic, flaming sunshine. And then came the moment that changed everything. The obstacle course deflated. Loudly. Mid-jump. A junior manager went down like a ragdoll, legs flailing. Someone screamed. Someone else clapped. And someone—no one knows who—played the Titanic theme on a kazoo. Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. Katherine sighed. “Okay, fine. So, maybe it’s not entirely under control.” “You think?” “…But don’t you dare tell me they’re not having fun.” They both turned and looked. And it was true: despite the chaos, people were laughing. Really laughing. Not polite chuckles or email-style “LOL”s, but genuine joy. Someone had started a conga line. There were actual smiles on faces that usually only moved during quarterly reviews. Sebastian looked conflicted. His logical brain hated every second. But some traitorous part of him—the part he buried beneath tailored suits and spreadsheets—almost... didn’t. Still, he stepped forward, grabbed the megaphone, and announced: “Everyone back inside. Team-building is over. And we are never, I repeat, never doing this again.” A collective groan. Katherine watched him. “You just killed joy, Mr. Mason.” “And prevented three lawsuits,” he replied. “Buzzkill.” “Chaos incarnate.” She smirked. He walked away. And she... might’ve smiled a little. --- Later that day, as Katherine was cleaning up neon feathers and confiscating the paint before someone spelled out “Teamwork is sexy” on the windows, she received an email. From: Sebastian Mason Subject: Debrief “Next time you want to ‘improve morale,’ please run your plans through legal first. Also, the mural is staying. Against my better judgment. S. M.” She read it three times. Then turned to the mural—splashes of color, wild lines, total nonsense—and found one phrase scrawled near the top, in unmistakably sharp black strokes: “Chaos isn’t always the enemy.” She stared. Blinked. Then grinned. “Sebastian Mason, are you flirting with morale?” she whispered to herself. ---
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