Why Did The Intern Named Maxim Leave The Show?

For three years, I’d used my family’s connections to bring the company hundreds of millions in revenue. But at the quarterly meeting, the new intern stood before everyone, displaying my attendance and expense reports, and accused me of “unexcused absences” and “squandering company funds.” “These high-end clubs, these restaurants…” she declared, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. “She spends thousands of dollars every time! These are completely unnecessary expenses.” “I strongly advise the CEO to fire her immediately and save the company’s cash flow.” I glanced at Claude, the CEO. My old classmate. He knew exactly how much revenue each of those meetings generated. He also knew that when I wasn't in the office, I was at some bar, negotiating with investors, sometimes drinking until my stomach turned. But he just stared at me coldly. “Caroline, what’s your explanation for the absences and expenses Lia has presented?” I smiled. “I have nothing to explain.” They would all learn, very soon, the consequences of this little stunt.

My CEO wife has a habit of rewarding top-performing employees with a private dinner. After seven years of being secretly married to her, I finally pushed myself to the limit—working around the clock for an entire month, nearly coughing up blood—just to land the number-one spot and finally earn that public dinner date with my own wife. But Alexia gave the spot to an intern instead. "Caleb just joined the team. He needs some motivation and encouragement. As my husband, you need to be understanding. Next time, if you close over ten million in sales, I'll definitely give you the spot—and I'll even throw in a diamond wedding ring worth a million." For the sake of the company and our marriage, I let it slide. Then I closed a ten-million-dollar deal and showed up at the restaurant we'd agreed on. She never came. No calls, no texts. I was about to head back to the office to find her when I saw Caleb's post on social media: a candlelit dinner with my wife, and on his ring finger—the very ring she'd promised me. His caption read: [Family keeps asking when I'm getting married? Don't worry—my girlfriend, the CEO, showed up with a ring to save the day.] Coworkers flooded the comments with excitement. I calmly left a comment of my own. My wife, who had been MIA for six hours, immediately called me in a panic. "Don't get the wrong idea! It was just a dare—he lost a game, that's all. You're still my husband. I just loaned him the ring for a minute. Once the game's over, I'll get it right back to you." But I don't want the ring or her anymore. "Don't bother. Let's get a divorce."

During the holidays, my boss wants us to choose between a holiday bonus and tarts. I don't like tarts at all, so I'm the first one to vote for a bonus. But the intern, Davin Holt, who's in charge of gathering everyone's votes and opinions, is quick to pin me on the hall of shame in the company's group chat. "Fabian, we mainly celebrate the holidays just to experience the atmosphere, you know? Isn't it too materialistic of you to vote for a bonus instead?" The department head tags me in the group chat as well. "Fabian, our company prioritizes the team spirit even more." In the end, everyone except me chooses the tarts. On the day of our holiday team bonding event, Davin bought everyone nut tarts. He knows that I'm allergic to nuts, and yet he still forces me to eat the tart in front of my boss just to show that I have team spirit. "Fabian, I bought the tarts with everyone's bonus. You can't just rain on our parade by rejecting them, right?" The next thing I know, I begin having difficulties breathing. At the same time, patches of red rashes break out on my skin. But Davin shoots me a look of disgust. "Dude, must you really spoil the mood while everyone else is having fun?" Desperately, I rummage through my bag for my allergy medication, only to see more tarts in its place. The sight of me looking so wretched makes Davin roar in laughter. "Medicine can be harmful to you, you know! You should have more desserts instead! That's why I've changed all of your medication to tarts!" Already, I find it more and more difficult to breathe. So, I text the CEO of this company on the spot. "Mom, my allergy is acting up! I'm at…"

The new intern always claimed to have the company’s best interests at heart, but her actions told a different story. To cut costs, she secretly swapped the two-thousand-dollar gift basket I had prepared for a client with a knockoff version she bought online for just two dollars, shipping included. During a critical overtime session, she turned off the power to save on electricity. Then, she boldly suggested canceling the company’s annual holiday leave. With a self-righteous expression, she declared, “The company doesn’t support freeloaders. I believe the holiday season is the perfect time to boost sales. I propose everyone work unpaid overtime and dedicate themselves selflessly to the company!” While the employees grumbled in frustration, I stepped up to refute her absurd suggestion and spoke out on behalf of the team. But instead of backing down, she accused me of embezzlement in front of everyone and recommended to the boss that I be fired. The shocking part? The boss agreed. Fine. If that was how they wanted it, I couldn’t wait to see how the company would function without me.

The authorities called me in, and the hospital slapped me with a formal reprimand. All because an intern posted a security shot outside the OR at two in the morning and accused me of using young doctors as unpaid labor. I'd set up a flexible scheduling system so doctors could juggle family life and night shifts. After getting buried in nonstop hate, I made a statement right there. "I hear the criticism. Changes start now." The next day, I pulled every intern off the clinical floor and told them to focus on coursework. The notice went out, and the interns completely lost it.

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.