Male POV Workplace Short Stories & Novels

Joseph Zeigler, the heir of the richest man in the city, suddenly develops a rare acute illness, leaving the whole medical department completely stumped. In my past life, I pull three all-nighters buried in medical journals from around the world before finally landing on the safest conservative treatment plan. Derek Chapman, the newly hired doctor, dismisses my approach. He scans the lab sheet using an AI diagnostic app and insists that a simple minimally invasive procedure is all it takes to eradicate the problem. I publicly point out the AI app's misdiagnosis, driven by my duty as a doctor. Derek, unable to accept the humiliation, leaves the hospital in a huff, accidentally falls into a river, and drowns. Helen Walker, the head of the department, has resented me ever since then. She leads a cyberbullying crusade against me online. She breaks down crying in front of the cameras, saying, "If Dr. Lund hadn't bullied the newcomer out of sheer jealousy, he wouldn't have been distracted enough to fall into that river. Dr. Lund is supposed to be compassionate as a doctor, but all he has is just pure jealousy!" I eventually jump to my death from a building because of the relentless cyberbullying. I open my eyes again to find myself back on the day Derek holds up his phone, loudly bragging about the AI's diagnosis. I take a backseat of my own accord this time. "These youngsters nowadays are absolute medical prodigies. If the AI says it is safe to operate, I will let you take the lead surgeon position for this case."

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!

In this world, there are more ways to deal with a problem than the problem itself. That applies just as well to cheating men. Rich men, especially, will go to absurd lengths just to have more women in their lives. There's no trick too low, no scheme too shameless. Take my boss, for example. He handed over his stunning mistress to me. Honestly, I suspected he couldn't perform in bed, because she came into my bedroom night after night.

I was laid off. Having reached middle age and lacking any special skills, I could only work as a warehouse manager in a private company. On the first day of work, I saw a large, dusty object in the corner. An imported precision instrument worth four million dollars sat there as scrap metal. My new colleague scoffed. "Stop looking. The boss spent a fortune on it. Even ten experts couldn't handle it. It's just a decoration." I walked up and touched the familiar body of the machine. "I can fix this." The entire workshop fell silent. My boss came upon hearing the news. He looked at me with contempt. "If you can fix it, I'll give you half of my shares. If not, you'll pay with your life."

My colleague, Hubert Gray, is always asking me to cover his shifts. Whether he wants to attend a party, go on holiday, celebrate a friend's wedding, or pick up his son, I always agree to help. I believe that's what colleagues do for each other. That is, until Grandma falls seriously ill and I need to see her one last time. I beg Hubert to cover my shift, but he refuses without a second thought. "No. I'm playing golf this afternoon. "So what if your grandma's dying? Instead of wasting time bothering other people, why don't you get back to work and finish that proposal? Do you really have to keep inconveniencing everyone?" Two weeks later, Hubert's son is involved in a car accident. The doctors urgently need Hubert at the hospital to approve his son's emergency surgery. Desperate, he comes to me in tears, begging me to cover his shift. I look him in the eye and give him a single, cold reply. "No."

At one in the morning, the general manager posted the project assignments in the group chat and tagged everyone. I reviewed my responsibilities carefully, going through each detail to make sure I understood exactly what was expected of me. When I was done, I typed a simple "OK" and hit send. Two seconds later, my phone rang. It was him. As soon as I answered, his voice came through, icy and sharp, filled with unmistakable disgust. "Eric, I'm very disappointed in you. I must have been blind to trust you with anything important." My mind went completely blank. "What… what do you mean?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. What he said next was something I never could have imagined.

According to company policy, anyone who achieves the feat of being the top salesperson for three years in a row will receive a thousand-square-foot apartment as a bonus. To achieve this goal, I work day and night, chasing every order I can find. But once I finally meet the criteria, I'm told that the policy has been abolished. Saul Hurst, my direct superior, brushes me off with a bonus of 500 dollars instead. Smirking at me, he says, "Being good at sales is all well and good, but you still need to improve your understanding of the company's rules and values. "Young people need to stay humble and know their place. Don't keep trying to show off. It isn't good to constantly hog the spotlight." I don't lose my temper. Instead, I manage to stay unusually calm as I took the "massive bonus" I got in exchange for three years of hard work. Two days later, our company headquarters conducts its annual sales evaluation. When one of our clients offers me a sales deal worth eight million dollars, I turn it down on the spot. After all, I believe that part of what it means to be professional is to do as my superior says. Since I'm supposed to stay humble and know my place, I've chosen to keep a low profile and not do anything that puts me under the spotlight. Besides, even if our branch fails to meet the total sales target, I'm not the one who's going to be held accountable for that.

I've worked with my wife, Naomi Prescott, for seven long years. Yet, she refuses to make my identity public in the company. Naomi claims that she's worried that the entire company might think of me as a man who relies on his partner. Believing her excuse, I stick to myself and keep a low profile all this time. But on the day my project team secures a ten-million-dollar business deal, Naomi is quick to make me give the credit to her childhood friend, Matthias Crowell. When faced with my questions, Naomi retorts in a matter-of-fact tone, "Matt is new to the company. Can't a veteran employee like you take care of him at work?" I'm furious, to say the least. "What if I say no?" Naomi throws a resignation letter at my face. "Well then, you can pack up and get lost, you pathetic loser!" I pack my belongings calmly and leave the company afterward. Three days later, Naomi's company is on the brink of bankruptcy. She sobs loudly as she begs me to return with her. I produce a business card and give it to her. "Sorry, but I prefer being the boss of my own company. It so happens that my company still needs a janitor. I suppose I can reserve that position for you, seeing as we used to be married and all."

My boss, Kyle Brown, had just processed payroll when Sam Jefferson, the trainee I had been mentoring, tossed me his phone. He said, "Can you hold this for me while I use the bathroom?" I took it without thinking, then froze when I saw the screen. That was because a notification had just popped up: [This month's salary has been deposited. Total: $4,692.00.] I had been with this company for eight years, and I only made one thousand dollars a month. When I was hired, Kyle had told me that we were a startup. As long as I worked hard, I would make big money eventually. But over the years, Kyle had traded in one Mercedes after another while my salary kept shrinking. At present, my savings were less than four thousand dollars. I was close to not being able to afford the medical bills for my younger sister, Eva Rivers, who was very sick and bedridden. Meanwhile, the trainee I was mentoring made close to four thousand seven hundred dollars a month. I stayed quiet for a moment, then turned and asked the employee beside me how much he made. He stammered for a long time and would not answer. I understood it then. I picked up my phone and opened the recruitment message a competitor had sent me a few days earlier.

I had been the company's top sales performer—the kind who brought in tens of millions in revenue. But just because I hadn't praised my boss' girlfriend in the company group chat, she fired me without hesitation and replaced me with her cousin. Not long after, the company's sales dropped straight to zero. That was when she had come to my door on her own to apologize. "Please, come back," she had begged. "My boyfriend said he'll break up with me if you don't return."

The mother of Mr. Burr, the hospital director, was critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My wife, wanting to help her beloved crush, Cedric Grey, take the spotlight, deliberately kept the surgery time from me. By the time I finally arrived—late, Mr. Burr stopped me from entering the operating room and scolded me harshly for being unprofessional and unethical. Once I realized what my wife was doing, I handed the lead surgeon position over to her beloved crush. “Well, since you're so eager to shine,” I said coldly, “you’d better not screw it up.” The nurses tried to talk me out of it. They said I was being impulsive, that this was a rare chance to prove myself. However, none of them knew that I was the only doctor in the entire country capable of performing this rare and complex heart valve surgery. Even if Cedric managed to buy time with some miracle drug and made it look like the patient was improving, without my diagnosis and surgical skills, the operation was doomed to fail. And when that happens, he’d be held responsible. As for my wife, her blind favoritism would come back to haunt her.

Outside the police tape surrounding a fancy hotel, a police officer can be seen blocking my way. "There seems to be a bomb hidden in the hotel! Unauthorized personnel are not allowed to get any closer!" I'm just about to dig out my work badge when the intern next to me, Christine Wyatt, covers her mouth in a pretentiously shocked manner. "Officer, there's a detonator and a timer in his bag! Those things look so scary!" The entire scene goes eerily silent. Almost immediately, I see a few guns getting aimed at my forehead. Anxiety begins overwhelming me. "I'm a bomb disposal expert from the Headquarters Explosive Ordnance Disposal Unit! My bag contains all the tools necessary to dispose of a bomb!" "Throw your bag over to me and keep your hands where I can see them!" Captain Scott Hunter roars at me. My bag is opened afterward. Things like an insulated cutter, a bomb suppression blanket, and a liquid nitrogen cooling tank are scattered across the ground. Before I can explain myself, Christine suddenly points at me while screaming, "Why are you still playing dumb? You just told me that you wanted to set off an explosion in that hotel! "What, now that the police are here, you dare not admit what you just said, huh? You're a terrorist through and through!" Scott reacts quickly by pinning me on the hood of the police cruiser with my hands folded behind my back. "We're taking you back for a thorough interrogation!" My heart almost stops at those words. The bomb that's packed with enough firepower to take out half a street has already gone on a countdown in the hotel lobby. But I, the only bomb disposal expert who can get rid of the bomb, have handcuffs put on me because of Christine's nonsensical accusations. Right now, there are only 29 minutes left before the bomb goes off.

All because I ran one minute over in the bathroom, the company took away my $200,000 project bonus. My own boss criticized me in front of everyone, saying I was loafing on company time. Saying I had no respect for the new rule. So he docked my $200,000 project bonus to make an example of me. And in the same stroke, he wiped out my shot at the promotion entirely. I handed in my resignation on the spot. The next day, the CEO of the whole group came to me himself and begged me not to go.

Vera Quinn and I spent seven years tearing each other apart in the corporate world. When we first started, she sabotaged my presentation slides, hoping to watch me humiliate myself in front of the board. I retaliated by flagging her fraudulent expense reports to HR, making sure her name was dragged through every department in the company. When we were both up for the director position, she locked me in a supply closet to make me miss the final interview. The moment I got out, I poached a major client she had been pursuing for six months, leaving her at the very bottom of the year-end performance rankings. In our industry, we were fire and water—completely incompatible. Then three years ago, the endless scheming finally felt hollow. I handed in my resignation and walked away from the industry for good. The day I packed my desk and left, Vera was leaning against the elevator door, her eyes full of mockery. "Giving up already? Mylo, a cowardly deserter like you deserves to starve on the streets". I hit the "close" button, swearing I never wanted to see her face again as long as I lived. Three years later, we crossed paths again at the industry’s annual gala. Vera was now the youngest partner in the industry. She looked at me as I stood there, humbling myself to pour drinks for an executive, and let out a sharp laugh. "It’s been a few years, and you’ve fallen this far? Working as a glorified escort to scrounge up some investments? What happened to that pride you used to fight me with?" But I wasn't there to secure any investment. I was there to beg that executive for a few more days to pay off the predatory loans my father had left behind. I just needed enough time to sign the consent form for my stomach cancer surgery with a clear conscience.

The Fullerton family, which has dominated the business world for a century, abides by the rule that the strong prevail and the weak are eliminated. Thus, as the adopted son, I've spent 26 years clawing my way to the top. But during the succession ceremony, Dad takes Simon Fullerton, his biological son, by the hand. He declares, "Simon will become the rightful heir of the Fullerton family!" In that instant, every high-society guest in the banquet hall turns to look at me. After all, it is no secret that I gave my all to prove I could inherit the family business. I adhere to a brutal, cutthroat education regime from the very beginning. Simon gets suspended for getting into fights and acting out, while I skip grades and breeze straight through a bachelor's, master's, and doctorate at a top university. Having been given 50,000 dollars to start a business, Simon gambles his way into one million dollars of debt, while I exceed my business targets. He ends up going bankrupt and liquidating his company, while I expand mine into overseas markets, driving its market value well past ten million dollars. I believe I have earned the title of being the strongest between the two and become the one to inherit the family business. I even look at Simon—a hopeless piece of work—and shake my head. Dad, however, stands firm in picking Simon over me. I bite my tongue lightly as I look at Simon's taunting grin, the metallic taste of blood snapping me right out of it. I suddenly realize that I have spent 26 years proving myself for nothing. Dad will still choose Simon to inherit the family business, no matter how impressive my achievement is. I sneer inwardly, thinking that since they want to play dirty, they'd better not blame me for not showing them any mercy.

My cousin, John Anderson, always paid me in tens rather than in thousands. He owned a renovation company, and my team and I always worked hard for his projects. However, he only transferred me thirty dollars for sand and concrete that were worth three thousand dollars. Besides that, he only transferred me one thousand five hundred dollars to finance customized doors and windows worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I did not harp on that. Instead, I bore the cost in full, as he was my cousin. That was until his wife, Rory Anderson, scolded me in front of all the workers. “Peter’s a bloodsucker. He never informs us whenever he buys new materials. He must have scammed a lot of money from us! I saw that he got himself a new house and a new car. I bet these are all bought with money he took from us!” John smoked next to us and sighed, “Never mind. He’s family after all.” I was furious when I heard that. I paid more than six hundred thousand dollars’ worth of material fees for him, and he was accusing me of stealing his money? The next client had a mansion and wanted natural marbles worth hundreds of thousands of dollars for his living room floor. John approved the request but only transferred me a thousand dollars to get it sorted out. So, I went to the brick factory located in the countryside and got a truckload of used red bricks from pigpens. Then, I used them for the client’s flooring.

I spent eight years at the company, working my way up from a green rookie to the most expensive expert on the entire East Coast. Then the company gave me an AI assistant. I thought it was a perk. It wrote my weekly reports, answered my emails, and organized my data. I loved using it. Three months later, HR called me in with a termination agreement. "The AI assistant has already distilled you into an AI clone. The company doesn't need you anymore." So that assistant hadn't been helping me. It had been replacing me. I signed and left. Eight years of my life, traded for a cardboard box and two words: "Not needed." Then my old boss called, his voice shaking as he begged. "Meridian's system crashed! The AI gave us seventeen fixes, and every one was wrong. They'll pull the contract if it's not fixed tonight. That's $450 million! Please come back. I'm begging you!" I gripped the phone and heard myself laugh. "It learned every document, every log, every action I ever took. But it'll never learn the one thing that's mine alone: my brain. "When all the data points to A, I have the nerve to pick B. "As for you? Go ahead and keep picking A."

Before the holidays, I visit an authorized car dealership to conduct an inspection. Having noticed that the flowers at the entrance aren't arranged properly, I decide to move them. Suddenly, a man clad in a suit and wears a manager's lapel tosses me a broom haughtily. "You must be the new intern, yeah? Today, the CEO will be conducting an inspection here. You'd better clean every inch of this place meticulously. Even the washrooms must be spick and span!" I don't bother moving an inch. My brows are tangled in a frown as I sink in deep thought. I never told anyone about my arrival today. How did this manager find out about my schedule, to begin with? Upon realizing that I'm not moving, the man hurls a piece of dirty rag at my face immediately. "I'll have you know that I'm your superior here! You can forget about using the Gen-Z workplace techniques on me! "If you slack off one more time, I'll fire you right away!" After graduating from college, I've just started learning the ropes in my family's company for half a year before my dad decides to assign me to a branch company. He even issues me an ultimatum. I'll only get to go home whenever I produce some actual results. Here I am, worried about how I'm going to exert my authority and prove myself to my dad, when the perfect catalyst just comes knocking on my door.

When the kiss cam swept across the stands at the baseball stadium Warren Doyle, a married investor in the league, had his arms around his PR director and was kissing her. The two of them went up on the jumbotron, and the crowd erupted in hoots and cheers. Warren stormed into the camera bay and demanded I hand over my camera. I told him the camera pointed wherever the control room told it to. He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly let go and let me leave. I thought that was the end of it. The next day, audio from the crew channel shot to the top of the news feeds, with nothing left in it but two ambiguous lines from me. "Camera locked on row seven. Keep rolling. Don't cut." Overnight I became the shameless camera operator who'd filmed them on purpose. I was suspended from my job, my father's food cart was trashed, and Warren sued me for a million dollars. But he didn't know that the recording he was using to convict me could only ever convict him.

My girlfriend, Eleanor Reed, tells me that her ex's father and grandfather have sadly passed away, so out of concern for her ex's mental health, she wants to be there for him. Meanwhile, her father, who's still bedridden at the hospital, becomes my responsibility. She tells me to take this opportunity to get on his good side so that I can win his approval sooner. After hearing that, I find myself admiring her relationship with her ex. Therefore, I decide to be her ex as well.