Historias cortas de Feel-Good Story y novelas con Independence ambientadas en Workplace

It's my 12th year working in construction, and I have over 600 workers working for me. Every day, we head to Peter Muhl's cafeteria on-site for lunch. One day, one of my employees asks for an extra ladle of soup. Peter's wife, Veronica Grant, slams the ladle down. "You construction workers sure have big appetites, huh? I charge you 18 bucks for a meal, and now you want all of my soup too?" All my construction workers in the cafeteria stop eating. Peter steps out of the kitchen, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "There are construction projects all over town these days, Mr. Walker. We've got more than enough customers now. "Your people are always coming in here caked in mud and getting the floors filthy. And you never settle the bill until the end of the month." I stare at Peter, and memories of three years ago come flooding back. Back then, the site was still in its early stages. He could barely sell ten meals a day. I'm the one who vouches for him so he can keep his cafeteria running. I even ask all my workers to order their lunch from him. These days, he sells over 1,000 boxed lunches a day, yet he looks down on my construction workers who keep his business running. I push my untouched lunch aside. "Fine. We'll settle the entire bill today." Veronica scoffs. "You think that's going to scare me? This site is huge. Without us, your men are going to go hungry every day." I pull out my phone and make an announcement in the project managers' group chat. "Starting tomorrow morning, I want all six project crews to stop ordering from Peter's cafeteria. All meal allowances will be redirected to the No. 2 residential complex."

The company booked a lodge at Osprey Lake for the Labor Day weekend retreat. All 35 other people in the company were invited, and I was not one of them. My team lead even posted a group photo from their kayaking trip in the chat, captioned with "One less person and the boat rides lighter." I did not reply. I turned off my phone, bought some tamales and a beer, went back to my apartment, and slept for 15 hours. When I woke up, I had 203 missed calls. The latest voicemail was my team lead, practically in tears. "Please, man, I'm sorry! Just pick up the phone!" I grabbed another slice and took a bite. I took one weekend off. How was the company already falling apart?

The day before my wedding, my ex-boyfriend asked me to meet him in a hotel room. "I heard you're getting married," he said. "Could you meet me, just this once? There's something I need to tell you." I agreed, and that night I went to the address he gave me. But the person waiting for me wasn't him. It was my fiancé, his face like a storm cloud, and beside him, his self-satisfied childhood sweetheart, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "See, Julian, I told you she wasn't being honest with you," she said. "She's finally slipped up." My fiancé's jaw clenched. He grabbed my wrist hard enough to bruise. "Why?" he demanded. I lowered my eyes and answered calmly, "Because I don't want to marry you anymore. This is the eighth time you and your childhood sweetheart have tested whether my feelings for you were real. "I'm exhausted. Aren't you?"

My company had moved into the heart of the business district, where rents were sky-high. To make things easier on my employees, I paid out of my own pocket to lease a luxury apartment building near the office. I wanted everyone to have more time to rest and enjoy life instead of wearing themselves out at work. But instead of appreciating the gesture, they accused me of offering fake perks. They believed the money I'd spent on those apartments should have gone straight into their pockets as project bonuses. To pressure me into handing over the money, they anonymously filed a complaint with the state labor department, accusing me of using the apartments to control my employees, keeping them on call around the clock, and forcing them to work overtime. Someone even went online and claimed I was spying on their private lives, painting me as a voyeuristic creep. In the end, they all walked out and quit, deliberately bringing an international project to a standstill. They hoped the crushing breach-of-contract penalties would force me to cave. What they didn't know was that ten minutes earlier, I'd called my mentor, and the best team in the industry was already on a plane headed here. If they wanted to quit, fine. I'd grant their wish!

In my previous life, at the company dinner celebrating the project's success, my boss, Patrick Gibson, takes the microphone and calls my name in front of everyone. "Evangeline, you did the heavy lifting on this project. Nobody deserves that 100-thousand-dollar bonus more than you!" I take the gold-embossed envelope he hands me. Then, Patrick leans in and lowers his voice. "The finance department's process takes forever. I'm giving you a certificate for now, but I'll sort the bonus out for you later." I believe him. My dad is in the hospital, and his life depends on that money. I worked myself to the bone for three months, only to end up with a certificate of recognition. I go to the office to demand my money, but I can't even get in to see Patrick before the security guards throw me out. In a daze, I leave the office and get hit by a car. I die there on the street. Dad never gets the money, and he never sees me again. He dies not long after. It isn't until after I die that I learn Patrick has already transferred the 100 thousand dollars to a woman I've never even heard of. When I open my eyes again, I'm back three days before the company dinner. This time, I'm not waiting.

I worked for a restaurant, and our boss loved making empty promises about giving us restaurant shares. The boss said we would start with zero shares, but we could earn 0.01% for every two hours of overtime, covering someone else’s work or saving the restaurant 1,000 bucks. I suggested she write this down in an official document and have someone track it properly. She just smiled and told everyone to work harder. She never actually put it in writing. The experienced staff did not believe her, but one prep cook took it seriously. At the end of the year, he went to the boss to claim his shares. The boss said, “Sorry, the head chef told me there’s no official document, so it doesn’t count. You can’t claim any shares.” The prep cook worked hard all year and got nothing for it, so he took his anger out on me. The day before I was going home for the New Year, he killed me with a knife. “If you hadn’t said it doesn’t count without an official document, this whole restaurant would’ve been mine!” I lay in a pool of blood. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the day the boss first made those empty promises.

On my first day of work, a new colleague keeps hinting that she's the chairman's daughter. Everyone sucks up to her and flatters her when they hear. That's not the worst part—they make me out to be some old man's sugar baby! I angrily call the chairman. "They called you an old man with a sugar baby, Dad!"

It was only in the eighth year of our marriage that I discovered my husband had a mistress in the neighborhood. Her place had the same layout as mine, except her furnishings were more luxurious. He was a good husband for her, meticulously caring for his young and beautiful wife. They were even expecting a baby. She sent me a message, eager to get rid of and replace me. She had forgotten I was the one who had been through hard times with him, Clyde Sherwood, and fought alongside him for more than a decade. Her pregnancy was what they both wanted, but there was no way I would allow things to work out the way they anticipated. Taking advantage of his conflicted feelings, I made sure he didn't have any more assets. Everything came with a price. Not only would I make him fall from grace, but I would also make him rot in ruins.

It is 1:00 am, and I'm still in the inspection office in the suburban power plant, compiling the equipment defect records for the week. Suddenly, there's loud kicking at my door. Brad Greer's panicked voice rings out. "Sam! Come with me right now! The pressure-regulating valve on the main steam pipe of Unit 4 is completely stuck! "The automatic pressure relief device didn't get activated! If it explodes, the three maintenance workers in the control room next door will be burned to a crisp!" Just as I grab my hard hat and am about to rush out, an anonymous encrypted email pops up on my office computer. It said, "Don't go there. The three maintenance workers have already been burned to death by the gushing steam. "He is the one who violated regulations by performing the pressurized maintenance after replacing the valve core with a substandard one, and now, it's completely stuck. He's just trying to make you take the blame. "If you touch the valve even once, you'll get your fingerprints all over it. The CCTV footage will show only you fiddling with it. You're going to take the fall for him and spend the rest of your life in jail. "You're going to have to pay tens of millions of dollars in compensation, and the victims' families will even have the right to sell off all your assets for compensation. You'll never have a peaceful life in prison either." The kicking at the door continues, and the hinges on the wooden door are about to fall off. "Samuel Williams! What are you dawdling for? You're the only one in the whole plant now who's received valve debugging training! You're the only one who can do it! "If you come out any later, those three maintenance people are going to be cooked!" I grip the computer mouse and withdraw my hand from the doorknob. I then say, "I'm sorry, but I'm only an inspector, not a maintenance technician. You need to call the plant's emergency number right away."

To ensure the launch of the company's new game, I worked overtime for a week straight. I practically lived at the company. But on the day of the celebration, I received a punishment notice from the new VP. "A certain someone has been working overtime until past midnight for over a week. This is a waste of the company's electricity. This notification is to inform him that he needs to pay this month's electricity bill for the company." The superior whom I worked with ever since this company was founded suddenly became arrogant as well. "A certain someone really needs to know their place. You're already 35. It's not like the company can't run without you. You're the one who relies on this company now." I laughed angrily. Had he forgotten what I did for a living? I submitted my resignation on that very same day. I'd like to see who would be the desperate party in the end. They could forget about ever being listed if this was how they treated their loyal employees.

An emergency has just occurred at the hotel. William Davis, the mayor's son, suffers from cardiac arrest in the hotel. Unfortunately, there's nothing the doctor in his team can do about it. I happen to be vacationing nearby, so I quickly rush toward the scene. As soon as I rush into the lobby, the security guards quickly stop me. "A life is being saved at the moment. Unauthorized personnel aren't allowed to enter." I'm about to dig out my work badge when Lydia Sharpe, the intern tagging along, suddenly covers her mouth and shouts daintily, "Don't let her in! There's a scalpel and a syringe of anesthetics in her bag!" Everyone is shocked by Lydia's revelation. The security guards instantly have me surrounded while wearing vigilant looks. Sweat starts rolling down my face out of anxiety. "I'm the head of the cardiothoracic surgery department of Central City Hospital! I've heard about the patient's condition! He must undergo a thoracotomy right away!" The next thing I know, Lydia has snatched my bag out of my hands. Things such as the sterilized gloves, defibrillator, as well as life-saving medication are scattered all over the floor. Lydia steps on the one and only life-saving pill instantly. "I just heard you claiming that it's best if the mayor's son dies right away! Why are you still pretending to be a savior? "Hurry up and arrest her! I suspect she has something to do with the ongoing case! She's definitely a murderer!" The person in charge's expression shifts drastically. Soon, he pins me on the wall. "Detain her and inform the security department right away! This woman is suspected of being involved in a murder!" As I stare at Lydia, I can't help but tremble violently. Right now, I'm the only one in the entire city who can perform the surgery on William. Unfortunately, he can only last for another half an hour in his current condition.

My coworker, Tyra Robb, stood beside my desk with one hand on her belly, her voice low. "Stella, there are some boxes in storage. Come help me move them." Last time, I gave in and went with her. Half an hour later, she collapsed in the fire stairwell, blood all over the floor. When she woke up, she pointed at me through tears. "Stella made me move those boxes. She even pushed me." I got fired, sued, and lost everything. My dad died. My mom lost her mind. And I ended up on the roof of the office building. Only after I died did I learn she'd been stringing along eight guys at once. Given Tyra's history of multiple miscarriages, the baby never stood a chance anyway. This time, I didn't move. "You're pregnant. You shouldn't be lifting anything heavy." I pulled out my phone and opened our department group chat. "I'll get someone to help." I typed: [Tyra's pregnant and needs documents from storage. A male coworker should go with her, and they should take the elevator both ways.] I hit send. The office went dead quiet. Tyra's face froze. Our admin supervisor replied: [Got it.] HR followed: [I'll confirm the workplace safety procedures for pregnant employees.] Tyra opened her mouth. "You don't need to involve this many people..." I looked at her. "You're pregnant. It's not safe to go alone." Last time, she'd lured me into that camera-free stairwell. This time, she'd be surrounded by witnesses.

My contract with the company is about to come to an end, and I'm already planning to renew it. But a few days before that, my boss, Dustin Kline, requested that I lower the percentage of my bonus in the project. The reason he gave is that I'm still young. Even if I were to take over other projects, I'd also do a good job. Dustin even made empty promises to me just so he could get me to give the projects I'm in charge of to Sandy Richmond, the new department manager in the company. When I refused to do so, he threatened to not give me my salary in order to get me to comply. The next day, the company is reduced to a laughing stock at the product launch event. Our client thinks the company's technological skills are too weak to back up the big talk, so they refuse to pay the remainder of the contracted sum. When Dustin begs me for help, I just look at him in amusement. "I refuse to get manipulated by anyone in this workplace. You're more than capable of dealing with your own problems. I believe in you, Mr. Kline."

After I shared my five-million-dollar commission with my department colleagues, they drag me to a hotel and celebrate with me for three days straight. But when I walk past the bathroom, I overhear a conversation between two of my colleagues that stops me cold. "Have the results of the vote come out yet?" What vote? Confused, I check my phone and find that I've been removed from the Project Department's group chat. "Who else could it be? Our hero, Zane Carter, received eleven votes. It was unanimous, and the motion was passed." "Serves him right. I've never liked him anyway." I freeze. I can't believe that my colleagues would betray me after what I've done for them. After taking a moment to calm down, I immediately decide to resign. The next thing I know, I receive a call from the company chairman, Wilson Smith. "Have you made up your mind? Quitting now would breach your contract. As a result, your five-million-dollar commission would be revoked. "You're also a key technical staff member. If you leave, your entire department would most likely be dismissed. Once that happens, your colleagues will end up unemployed. Are you sure about this?" I lower my gaze and let out a cold laugh. "Absolutely."

I helped build our company from a cramped basement all the way up to an office tower. Then winter hit. It was fourteen degrees outside, my hands were raw from the cold, and all I asked was for our boss to turn on the office heat. "Are you here to work or to be comfortable?" Darlene Kessler snapped in front of everyone. "We're still growing. We can't afford heating bills. Declan, you're our top salesman. You should be setting an example instead of demanding special treatment!" Before I could respond, her assistant strolled in wearing a designer coat and carrying two first-class tickets to Santa Lucera. I laughed and pointed at the tickets. "So the rest of us have to freeze while we make you money, but you can afford to take him to Santa Lucera?" Darlene slammed her palm onto my desk. "You don't understand business! We're about to go public. Tristan has the looks and the image to represent us overseas. This is an international expansion trip!" International expansion? I was the company's top salesman. Since when did we have business in Santa Lucera? And what kind of major deal required a pretty boy who couldn't even speak the language instead of me? "Don't think a few good numbers give you the right to tell me how to run things!" she warned. "One more word, and you can forget about receiving a cent of this month's commission." I looked at her, blinded by her infatuation, and said nothing. Five days later, while she was sunbathing in Santa Lucera, a single phone call left her slumped in her lounge chair.

After screenshots from our company chat leaked, I ended up trending. The whole internet was cursing my name, all because my employees claimed our flexible scheduling policy was exploitation in disguise. They said it turned quitting time into a competition, wrecked their sleep and their health, and never raised their pay by a cent. What nobody online knew was that my policy let anyone go home the moment they'd hit their hours for the week. Plenty of my people worked four days and took three off. Some worked three and took four. So when the internet demanded I pay for labor performed, I graciously took their advice and scrapped flex time. I replaced it with fixed hours: nine to nine, six days a week. And I split a five-figure monthly salary into a $2,500 base plus uncapped performance pay. More work, more money. The moment the notice went out, the whole company exploded. Now the leads from half a dozen project teams are crowded outside my office door, begging me to bring flex time back.

I have always been fair to my sons, but Tim, the eldest, always complains that I'm never fair to him. It's unfair for him that I stopped him from eating seafood because of his allergies. It's unfair for him when my husband and I refused to take him to the amusement park, when his brother was bleeding profusely after a bad fall. It's unfair for him that we didn't buy the exact same shirt as Joe's because he wasn't the same size. As long as I don't do what he wants, he will keep calling me unfair. Later, he brought home a delinquent, saying she's his fiancee. When I refused to give them my blessing, he took to the internet, complaining that I was a control freak and I had been unfair for years. The internet canceled us. Joe lost his job, while my husband and I were killed as a crazed netizen crashed his car into us. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day when Tim first brought Nana home. This time, I decided to give him everything wanted. So why did he regret everything?

To help my wife secure a director position, I spent an entire month working on a single deal, negotiating back and forth until I locked in the sale of a multimillion-dollar luxury apartment. On the day we were supposed to sign, Stella Frost handed the main contract to Tanner Davis, a new hire who had barely been with the company. When I asked Stella about it, she hesitated, her eyes shifting away before she answered. "Tanner studied overseas. His background is stronger than yours, and his Waldreich is better. The client has a foreign partner. It'll go more smoothly if he takes the lead." As she spoke, she slipped her arm through mine, like she always did when she expected me to back down. This time, I didn't smile. I just looked at her. That afternoon, I submitted my resignation and finished handing over every major client under my name. Stella tore the letter apart in front of me, her frustration turning quickly into something sharper. "When I married you, I didn't even care that you only had a high school education. And now you're making an issue out of a new hire?" I let out a quiet laugh. She was right. My education wasn't impressive. But she had forgotten one thing. I hadn't become the top closer in the city because of a degree.

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

Right after the authorities issue the red flood alert, my boss, Bianca Larson, sends a message to our office group chat and tags everyone. "Kindly remain in the office instead of heading home this evening, so you won't have any issues coming in to work tomorrow morning. There'll be an overnight stay charge of 100 dollars, which will be deducted from your salary." All of my colleagues grumble about it, but no one dares to defy the boss. But in the middle of the night, the river embankment gives way. The nasty floodwater fills up the first-floor office, and not a single one of the 100-plus employees survives. Suddenly, my eyes open again. I've returned to the exact moment Bianca sends that message. Anna Wheeler, whose desk is next to mine, sighs and asks me how I intend to spend the night. I firmly declare, "I'm resigning!"