Male POV Workplace の短編小説 & 小説

On the first day of my internship, I discover that there's another intern who has the exact same name as I do. During a trip to the toilet, I overhear some colleagues gossiping. "Did you hear? One of the interns from this batch is actually the chairman's son! I think his name is… Michael Lane." "But there are two Michael Lanes among the interns this time! Which one is it?" "Shh! I heard that he's humble and wants to keep a low profile because he wants to experience life as one of us commoners." "Then, it has to be the one from your team, the one in the white shirt and the Simple-branded canvas bag—you know, the brand that sells plain and simple-looking items that are actually super expensive. Our Michael is wearing a Rolex on his first day of work! It's as though he's afraid others won't know that he's rich. I bet it's all just an act!" "I agree. As if someone truly rich would be flaunting their wealth like that!" I wait till their voices have faded away before returning to my desk and glancing at my Simple canvas bag. At that moment, my phone vibrates with a message from my mother. "How's your first day of work going? Are you getting along well with your colleagues?" I reply, "It's okay, but there seems to be a misunderstanding going on." "What misunderstanding?" I think it over for a bit, but don't answer. After all, it's not like I can tell her, "Mom, you told me to keep a low profile, but because of that, the entire company now thinks that I'm the chairman's son." But I'm actually not!

Two months after I joined the company, I sold off every stalled real estate project it had been sitting on for three years and pulled the failing business back from the edge of bankruptcy. To keep me, the chairman sold me a thirty-million-dollar sky penthouse for one dollar. On handover day, the new colleague, Ryan Wells, snatched my contract and sneered, "Connor, buying a sky penthouse for one dollar? Keep dreaming." I told him to look at the company seal on the contract, but he burned it on the spot. "Connor, don't think a few sales achievements mean you can use the back door to buy property. "Even if the company really had a benefit like this, Lydia should be the first person to enjoy it!" My girlfriend, who was also the sales manager, looked at me coldly. "Connor, have some principles. The company is struggling, and you're still trying to take advantage?" "Since reporting misconduct deserves a reward, I've decided to give your sales commission to Ryan. "If you have a problem with that, don't come to work tomorrow!" Furious enough to laugh, I took out my phone and called my sister directly. "Victoria, cancel every purchase contract for the Eastbank project. I'm done here."

A Code Blue in the emergency department means a patient's heart has stopped and every pair of hands in the building is wanted. The president cut his own report off mid-sentence and sent me down to the resuscitation. The charge nurse was already prepping my gown at a run, saving every second she could find. And a first-year resident, three months on the job, was standing in front of the procedure-room doors with a printout from the pharmacy in his hand. He put it to me in front of everyone. "Dr. Hale, sixty ampoules of anesthetic went out of your department in March. Did you take them out and sell them? "The head of cardiothoracic surgery, doing something that filthy? Sixteen years in this hospital. Tell all of us how much you've taken in kickbacks." He said it with real conviction. And the eyes coming at me from up and down the corridor were full of doubt. But I didn't have the time to fight with him. The window on a heart attack like that one is ninety minutes. Fifteen of them were already gone.

My father started out hauling cargo on the docks. By the end, he'd carved out seven city blocks, three harbor warehouses, and two casinos along the East Coast. I was six when he died. His will was a single line: “The family belongs to Luca. Let them choose who runs it.” The Family Council appointed Isabella Conti, my father's most trusted lieutenant, to run the family in my place. Isabella was good at it. She pulled the Vitale name back from the edge of ruin and made it the most respectable crime family on the East Coast. And me? I only came back to the estate for two weeks each summer, to soak up the sun, drink red wine, and do absolutely nothing. Then Isabella married an outsider named Riccardo Falco. On their wedding day, he cut off my access to the estate. “We're turning this place into a reception hall. Find yourself somewhere else to live.” After that, he set up a holding company in my name, with Isabella running it. Last night, in front of everyone, he had the nerve to say, “Luca, you're not a kid anymore. Time to learn to stand on your own two feet.” “Your distributions are over. From now on, you get three thousand dollars a month.” “Learn to manage your money. Stop wasting it.” Isabella raised her glass and nodded. “Riccardo's only looking out for you.” I looked at them and almost laughed. Three million dollars a month in payouts, slashed to three thousand? All thirty-seven of the family's businesses ultimately belonged to me.

My boss, Steven Swanson, traps me at the office by guilt-tripping me into staying loyal and makes me work my fingers to the bone. From the moment I joined, I knew that the company was on the brink of collapse. When a rival company tries to poach me with an offer of triple my salary, my first thought is that Steven even sold his own home just to ensure we always got our paychecks on time. So, with tears in my eyes, I push away the headhunter's contract, determined to help the company weather the storm. After three months of pulling all-nighters, I have a heart attack and die at my desk. As my consciousness fades, I overhear Steven chatting lightheartedly in the next room with someone else. "That fool was just so easy to exploit. All it took was a little talk about loyalty to keep him working around the clock. He'd probably never guess that I own the rival company, too."

I sat in the driver's seat as the GPS chimed, "You've arrived at Northpoint Corp. Check-in successful." I looked up. Graves. Nothing but graves. My phone buzzed. My boss tagged me in the group chat: [Zane Zander, system says you checked in ten minutes ago. Where the hell are you? The whole company's waiting. Learned how to spoof your GPS to slack off?] Cold sweat slid down my back. I stared at the fresh headstone outside my window. My photo was on it. My hands shook. I tried to send my boss a video—no signal. Just dead bars. No service. So how did I check in? Worse— In the rearview mirror, someone in my exact outfit rose slowly from behind a dirt mound. Could it be... Was I already "dead"?

My hands were completely full with a massive stack of files, so I dropped a quick message in the team group chat: [Anyone down to pick up lunch for me? I’ll cover a coffee for your trouble.] Brandon Cole, the brand-new intern, saw it and immediately chimed in to offer a hand. When he handed me the takeout container, he casually let out a heavy sigh and looked down at his phone. "Man, I was just scrolling Instagram and saw Starbucks came out with this new iced strawberry lemonade. It’s like six bucks, but I’ve never tried it." My finger froze over the ordering app on my screen. My entire lunch, including the delivery fee, was about eleven dollars. Still, looking at the eager, expectant puppy-dog look on Brandon’s face, I didn't say a word. I quietly added the six-dollar Starbucks drink to my order and checked out. Brandon’s face instantly lit up. "You're the best, man," he beamed, leaning in. "Seriously, hit me up whenever you need anything else." The next morning, I stepped into the office, my bag barely off my shoulder and my badge not even scanned yet. Brandon was already standing at my desk. He slammed a takeout container down in front of me with a proud smile. "Hey, Jay! I went ahead and got you lunch today." He patted the lid of the container like he'd done me a massive favor. "Chipotle bowl from down the street, twelve bucks. The delivery fee is the same as yesterday, though. I'll take a vanilla latte from Starbucks." He didn't even pause to let me react. "Light ice, blonde espresso, no foam, in a Venti size. It comes out to seven fifty. Thanks, man!"

Because I ate three of the company's apples, my boss fired me on the spot. "This company has no use for an employee like you, someone who abuses their position to help themselves to company property." For ten whole years, I stood by this studio as it grew from a tiny backroom operation into what it is today. The toughest orders, the most difficult clients, the projects that left everyone gasping for air. Nearly all of them were carried on my shoulders. And now, just three apples had become my boss's "proof" that I was "misappropriating company resources." Worse, they got me branded as a petty freeloader. I didn't argue. I took out my phone and dialed Matt Kilcher's number. "Mr. Kilcher, about that million-dollar photo shoot we finalized, there's no need to sign with this studio. Every order from here on out goes to my new team."

To meet the project's launch deadline, I spend an entire month living at the office and only sleep three hours a day. After the successful launch, I take my request for three thousand dollars in overtime pay to the project director, Hank Zucker. He tosses the form into the trash, pats me on the shoulder, and says, "Come on, young man. Why bring money into this and ruin our relationship? You should feel honored that the company entrusted such a major project to you!" Hearing that, I smile. Fine. If that's how he wants to play it, then he can't blame me for not showing him any mercy. On Monday, the company's core user data worth hundreds of millions mysteriously vanishes from its servers.

At the company's annual gala, the CEO announced that this year's top sales performer would receive a two-million-dollar year-end bonus. I was the top performer. However, my manager called me into his office the very next day and explained that the company was cutting costs and improving efficiency. As a result, my bonus had to be reduced. I initially assumed everyone's bonus was being cut. Then, I found out I was the only one getting shortchanged. Even worse, they handed my position to a useless coworker who could barely do the job. I understood everything immediately. 'So this is how it is. You're tossing me aside after you got what you wanted from me.' Fine. I stopped putting in any effort from that day forward. I clocked in, did the bare minimum, and watched the company slowly fall apart. Sales began to drop month after month. Even the major clients I had already secured began withdrawing their investments. That was when the CEO finally panicked. He showed up at my front door, begging me to fix things. I kicked the door open and looked down at him. "You think a garbage company like yours deserves my help?"

For our company's annual party, my manager handed me a hundred-dollar bill. His assignment? Go out and buy the latest, top-of-the-line iPhone as the grand raffle prize. I stared at the cash, my brow furrowed. “An iPhone 17 costs nearly a thousand dollars. A hundred is hardly enough.” A smug smile tugged at his lips. “That’s your problem to figure out. When your superior hands down an order, you find a way to make it happen, not sit there questioning me.” So he was trying to make me pay out of my own pocket! When I flatly refused, he didn't hesitate to use my full-time promotion to threaten me. Looking at his arrogant face, I pretended to back down. “Fine. Leave it to me.” The second I turned around, I stuffed a brick into an empty phone box, sealed it up, and handed it right over.

An overpass in Winfeld that's still under construction ends up collapsing, leading to the deaths of many. Family members of the victims are up in arms, demanding that the person in charge pay the price for the incident. As the quality assurance inspector, I'm brought to court. However, I am just an intern. The real perpetrators are out clinking glasses, celebrating a clean getaway and the fact that they have a new scapegoat. Out of nowhere, the court introduces a new trial system that involves the extraction of memories directly from one's mind. In the middle of this major incident, a terrifying truth emerges. Everything goes all the way back to my university days…

The company's newest intern had clearly been watching too many workplace dramas. He insisted that the lunches I ordered for the staff were nothing but cheap, disgusting slop. "Thirty bucks for a lunch like this? Who'd eat this crap? Who knows what kind of cheap meat they use or how filthy their kitchen is? If we get sick from eating this stuff every day, who is going to take responsibility?" He immediately proposed switching the entire company to premium steak lunches. Then, in front of everyone, he accused me of taking kickbacks from the catering company and deliberately cutting corners at the staff's expense. Even my girlfriend of three years took his side, staring at me with open disgust. "Why are you so cheap, Griffin Smith? You would rather save a few bucks than care about your coworkers' health?" The moment my coworkers heard they could have premium steak for lunch, their eyes lit up. While waiting for the new meals to arrive, they took turns making snide remarks about me. "It isn't like we're paying for it out of our own pockets. At least the intern knows how to look out for everyone. Unlike certain people who spend all day trying to save the company money, as if every last cent of the company's budget belongs in his pocket." As soon as the lunches arrived, they eagerly grabbed the steak meals the intern had ordered and dug in. Meanwhile, the affordable lunches I had painstakingly sourced after comparing prices from several caterers were tossed straight into the trash without so much as a second glance. I glanced at the prices I had just looked up on my phone and let out an icy laugh. The company's meal allowance was capped at 30 bucks per person per day. Any amount exceeding that limit would be deducted directly from the employee's paycheck. I could not help wondering just how many meals costing 300 bucks each their monthly salaries of 8,000 dollars would cover.

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.

On Christmas, the company handed out bonus envelopes, and I drew a 24-hour overtime voucher. Meanwhile, the boss took the female workers and my wife to a yacht party to celebrate. So, I calmly lit the Christmas tree and burned the company down. In my previous life, I worked overtime until I was completely exhausted. With a sharp pain in my chest, I called the boss to ask for leave. His tone was cold. “Everyone accepted their Christmas gift. Only you didn’t. “Get lost, then. You’re fired. Just a nobody at the bottom of society, anyway!” Through the phone, I heard my wife’s heavy breathing, one wave after another. “Thomas, ever since I got married, I’ve never had a good life. Today is truly amazing!” “Hahaha, Samantha, you’re really pitiful, married to such a poor loser.” Mocking laughter filled my ears. Rage consumed me, and I died at my desk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on Christmas Day.

At the company's celebration dinner, the new HR guy slapped a bill on the table—$860 for A/C and venue costs from our last all-nighter. I shot a look at Sherry—my girlfriend, my boss—thinking she'd have my back. Nope. She latched onto HR's arm and said, "Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading." And just like that, nine years of busting my ass for this company, and turns out—I was the discount item on the menu.

I'm a Gen Z rookie at work. When my boss is being poured a drink, I intercept the bottle. When he gives a speech, I strike up a chat. He opens the car door, and I hop right in. I don't do overtime, and I never take the fall. My manager wants to steal my credit and pocket my bonuses? Hilarious. The company belongs to my family. Your boss is my dad!

When I returned to the corporate research and development press conference, I knew Tyler Zach would step forward to accuse our team of plagiarism, yet I chose to turn a blind eye. In my previous life, Tyler’s accusation had caused Nelson Corporation to instantly lose ten percent of its core interests. Back then, I stepped up and single-handedly saved the day. Not only did I ensure the press conference ended smoothly, but I also used the opportunity to elevate the company’s reputation to new heights. However, I was eventually betrayed. My first love, Rosie Nelson, fabricated evidence against me and sent me to prison. Even the results of my project were falsely credited to Tyler. I refused to believe it. I bombarded her with questions and demanded answers. Rosie’s eyes were filled with guilt, but she only replied, “Evan, Tyler came from humble beginnings. He can’t afford to lose this once-in-a-lifetime chance to make a name for himself! “Don’t worry. We’ll get married once you’re out.” I fought desperately to appeal, but I was beaten to death in prison. I wondered if Rosie could handle the company’s losses without me fighting tooth and nail to turn things around this time. I did not expect Rosie to turn to me at the most critical moment of the conference with panicked eyes and urge me desperately, “Evan! Why aren’t you on stage explaining everything yet?!”

After my beautiful boss, Violet York, starts a new relationship, I somehow end up becoming the other man. Her brand-new boyfriend, Cody Moore, shows up in a sweatshirt and a trendy layered haircut. He kneels in front of me and cries, "You're Vi's secretary, right? Please give her back to me. We're the ones who are destined for each other." I jump back in shock. Yes, I am Violet's secretary. But more importantly, I'm a national award-winning top scholar with both looks and brains. I have the company's core tech in my hands! And most importantly of all, there is absolutely nothing going on between Violet and me. I can swear with my life!

To save 15,000 dollars in year-end bonus, the company decided to lay me off before New Year's. The HR director held my attendance record, pointed at the record of leaving work on time, and called me a lazy and self-indulgent employee. The boss even made a statement at the year-end party. "We need to eliminate employees who lack competitiveness to make the company more efficient." I did not make a fuss, signing the document and leaving quickly. They had no idea that this office building had just been transferred to my name last week. Out of consideration for being colleagues, I originally wanted to offer the company a six-month rent waiver as a New Year gift. Now, weeding out those who were less ambitious seemed to be what they wanted. Fine, I didn't have to send this grand gift.