Ruthless Workplace Short Stories & Novels

Everyone in our neighborhood knew me as the meek full-time housewife. I had no income and no social life. Every hour of every day went to the kitchen, my child, and my hypercritical mother-in-law, Sofia Carter. Yet when I woke up, I had somehow swapped bodies with my insufferably smug husband, Kevin Carter. My phone lit up as he sent one mocking message after another: [Olivia, you act like having a baby entitles you to lie around at home all day, watch the kid, and throw together a couple of meals.] [For your information, this swap is permanent. I can finally get some rest.] [Don't run your mouth at my office. That management job is way beyond what a brain that never even made it through college can handle.] When I finished reading, I stared at the stubble-covered man in the bathroom mirror and burst into tearful laughter. He had no idea. My meekness and numbness had been bought with my health. From the day I married him, I never got more than five hours of sleep. At twenty-two, I suffered a severe hemorrhage during a difficult delivery. At twenty-four, I developed severe tendinitis. At twenty-six, after years of exhaustion and Sofia grinding me down, I was diagnosed with moderate depression. To him, I was never a wife. I was a live-in maid he didn't have to pay, someone he could take his temper out on whenever he pleased.

I lent the company two hundred thousand dollars' worth of camera equipment for three years, and my boss repaid me by cutting my salary. My monthly pay dropped from two thousand dollars to six hundred. I went to ask him for an explanation. But when I arrived, the newly hired photography intern was showing him a refurbished camera. "The company can use my equipment too. Six hundred dollars a month is enough for me." My boss spotted me coming in and seized the chance to put me in my place. "See, Joe? If you won't do the job, plenty of other people will." I froze for a moment, then asked the intern, "How can you live in Fairhaven on just six hundred dollars a month?" He answered with self-righteous conviction. "Why couldn't I? I've done the math. A room in a shared place farther out costs a hundred and sixty. Food is six dollars a day, so a hundred and eighty a month. If I'm still short, I'll take out a loan." "What's wrong with enduring a little hardship when we're young? We should be working hard and learning, not constantly making demands of the company. How do you not understand something so basic?" My boss beamed as he listened. I smiled too. So, you enjoyed suffering? Fine. I bought the company. It was time to show them how a real capitalist operated.

It's summer now, and I've somehow become the stinkiest person in the entire company. Everyone says that I smell terrible. The doctors say that there is nothing wrong with my body, but my colleagues still avoid me like the plague at work. Even the intern secretly puts deodorant on my desk. I can't take it anymore and hand in my resignation. But on the day I'm processing the paperwork, my manager, Joel Winters, chases me to the elevators and stops me. His voice shakes as he says, "I'll give you 50 thousand dollars to continue sitting at your desk." I don't agree to it and call the police instead. When the police cut open the huge eight-foot teddy bear next to me, the entire office falls silent.

My husband and his employees went on a camping trip, and his assistant posted on social media. [We drew lots for the tents, and guess who ended up with the handsome CEO!] The post showed a selfie she took. Behind her, my husband was taking his shirt off. Someone left a comment. [A man and a woman alone together? Sounds juicy.] The assistant quickly replied with a smirking emoji. [I like a little excitement!] After I liked the post, it was deleted right away. Soon, my husband called me on video. In front of his crying assistant and several employees, he scolded, “Why did you like the post?! It was just a game! Don’t be so close-minded!” As I watched him hold the assistant in arms and comforted her, I quietly hung up. After ten years of loving Caelan Sullivan, I decided then and there to let go.

After the school cafeteria for elementary school kids shut down, I decided to offer meals for all the kids in our building at my home. At the end of the month, when it came time to settle the bill, one of the neighbors wasn’t happy. “The new caterer downstairs only charges $2.50 per meal, but you’re charging us $5! That’s an extra $75 per kid per month. Do you have no shame?” she accused me. I calmly explained that I only used free-range meat and organic vegetables in my meals. But no matter how patiently I tried to reason with them, the parents insisted I refund the difference and demanded I charge no more than $2.50 per meal moving forward. When I lowered my costs to meet their demands, they started accusing me of mistreating their children. They went online to expose me and even reported me to the authorities. The online attacks were relentless. I was fined, and my husband lost his job because of the controversy surrounding me. The stress pushed me into depression, and in the end, I jumped off a building to end it all. When I opened my eyes again, I saw those same parents being swayed by others in the neighborhood to send their kids to the new daycare service that only charged $2.50 a day. What they didn’t know was that the lunch caterer next door did serve meat every day—but it was frozen, diseased pork that had been sitting in storage for two years.

For the past three months, I've slept only three hours every day just so my team and I can create an app. Thanks to our hard work, the app goes absolutely viral to the point we've garnered over 100 million registered users on the first week of its launch. At the afterparty, my wife, Stacie Woodward, announces that her godbrother, Tory Frost, who's the PR manager, will be the one receiving the million-dollar bonus. She then tosses me a few 50% discount coupons that can be used in shopping malls as my bonus. "You're just a code monkey—why do you need that much money anyway? You can have these discount coupons. Use them on anything you want. At least buy some nice clothes for yourself. Don't go around wearing these rags. You'll just end up humiliating me more." I plead to her in a low tone, "Have you gone crazy, Stacie? My dad needs the money for the best medication in order to save his life! Can you please stop joking around?" But Stacie clings to Toby's arm, looking high and mighty. "Your dad's dying, isn't he? He might as well stop wasting the public resources! I can always choose him a better grave and hold a nice funeral for him when his time comes!" As I look at Stacie's smug face, I just smile at her instead of getting mad at her. She must have forgotten that the app's core algorithm and the user growth model are built using my private, undisclosed technology stack. That means the copyright is mine and has nothing to do with the company. I just smile while nodding at Stacie. That night, I activate the technology stack's self-destruct and migration protocols.

I was an emergency physician. After finishing a night shift, I had just walked out of the hospital entrance when a colleague from the hospital called me. "Dr. Doherty, hurry back. A critically injured patient was just brought in. The chief wants you to return immediately and help with the resuscitation." I turned around without thinking. But then a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [Do not enter the operating room! Do not take part in this resuscitation!] [The patient is already dead. If you go in, you will be taking the fall for the hospital director's daughter!] [This patient's family is powerful. You will not only be sentenced to death, your parents will also be forced to jump to their deaths as well!] My steps stopped cold. A few seconds later, my heart tightened. I decided to believe the comments. I would gamble on it. My eyes swept quickly across the ground. I immediately locked onto an uncovered deep shaft on the road. I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes, and threw myself straight into the opening.

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."

I have just secured a massive ten-million-dollar deal during the Black Friday Sales. I have endured several days of hectic work, yet I still find myself unable to turn down my girlfriend, Charlotte Ward. We spend the night in passionate abandon and finally fall into a heavy, restful sleep. The next morning, a loud thud jolts me awake. When I open my eyes, I realize that it's my luggage. Charlotte suddenly says, "This is the end for us, Robert. It's time for you to move out. I've already wired the money for your past services, along with your salary. So get going." I find myself caught in a daze and about to move to question her, but she stops me dead, jabbing her fingers into my chest. "Know your place, Robert. You're nothing but a gigolo to me. I might, maybe, let you keep your job in Ward Group if you beg." I almost reach out to grab her wrist but stop myself. Instead, I smile broadly and say, "You've got it all wrong. Your company wouldn't survive without me, Charlotte."

Just after the New Year, as I was about to return to work, my phone suddenly rang. "Charlie." With just one word, I immediately guessed who it was. Franklin Wood, my former colleague and superior, who had my ex-company and the entire industry blacklist me. We had not been in contact for three years. I did not understand why he was calling me out of the blue. "Is there something you need?" Hearing my response, the man on the other end of the line suddenly took a deep breath, his voice becoming a bit urgent. "Charlie, do you have a job now? What happened back then was my fault. The company needs you now. Can you come back?" 'Needs me?' I thought and laughed. Three years ago, he was the one who told me, "The company's success depends on the connections of its employees, not on their personal merits." 'Now, he's asking me to go back?' I thought, hanging up without replying. After all, the company I was working for now, Apex Systems, was their biggest rival.

During our company's Black Friday sale, an intern took it upon herself to change "Spend $300, save $50" to "Spend $300, save $350." In my previous life, I was the Director of E-commerce Operations. I shut down the servers immediately and stopped the company from bleeding nearly ten million dollars. At the year-end party, the intern stood in front of everyone with tears in her eyes, playing the victim. "Erin, all I wanted to do was drive user acquisition through a loss-leader growth hack!" "Customers would have come back to repurchase after getting the discount. Who gave you the right to cut off the company's revenue by killing the servers?" She posted a viral thread on Instagram: Gen Z Takes on the Workplace: How My Outdated Boss Sabotaged My Brilliant Idea. Strangers doxxed me and came after me in waves. I left the company due to depression. Eventually, her mob of rabid followers drove me off the edge of a roof. Now I've been given a second chance. When the intern points to the promo page that's about to go live and asks me: "Erin, does my Black Friday campaign look good to you?" "It doesn't just look good. This is the textbook definition of a viral growth hack!" I turn around, grab the documents, and announce over the company-wide PA system. "Cassie has personally guaranteed this campaign with her own and her boyfriend's credit history, signing a full liability agreement to cover any losses. Let's give her a hand, everyone!"

A torrential downpour hits the city, but our boss, Emmett Price, forces all employees to stay at the company to work overtime. He even deducts 100 dollars per person per day from our wages for utilities. Discontent fills the office. My team members come to me with a petition and plead with me, as their team leader, to sign it, telling me everyone will feel emboldened if I take the lead. I'm about to leave on a business trip, and I could've stayed out of it, but I can't bring myself to watch everyone get exploited. So, I readily sign my name. However, when Mr. Price calls me into his office, I realize with a start that my name's the only one left on the petition. He publicly berates me for instigating a revolt and fires me on the spot. Meanwhile, my teammates who throw me under the bus instantly swarm Mr. Price to suck up to him and effortlessly get out of the mandatory overtime. Even the project I've spent half a year securing gets divided among them. After losing my job, I search everywhere for another one. However, I accidentally come into contact with a live wire on the street and die on the spot from electrocution. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Mr. Price announces the mandatory stay-at-work notice. My team members walk up to me with the petition once again, but I simply shake my head. "I'm sorry, but I'm busy right now."