Secretary Workplace Short Stories & Novels

The company held a management meeting, and my husband's secretary was standing at the door, checking everyone's identity. Every person who entered the conference room was greeted with a bright smile—until it was my turn. Then came a derisive snort. I frowned and handed over my badge from the Cybersecurity Department, but he didn't even bother to look. "Skye, Mr. Fraser only pitied you enough to make you a manager. Don't tell me you actually think you're something special?" I didn't respond. Instead, I turned around and dialed the CEO's direct line. "Someone just said this position was yours to grant out of pity. Is that true?"

My boss had a new boyfriend called Eugene Larson. The first day he came to the office, he put on a great show of exerting his dominance. He deleted my number from my boss's phone right in front of me. Eugene waved his phone in front of me while playing innocently. "You can talk to me about anything you need to communicate to Tina, Mr. Sanders. I'll help you pass the message to her. I don't have much sense of security, so please don't mind this. It's to avoid any misunderstanding between us." I was hoping my boss, Tina Kayden, would be able to say something fair on my behalf, but all she did was stare at Eugene approvingly and adoringly throughout the conversation. She turned to me and said, "This is a pretty good plan, Mr. Sanders. Do take good care of Eugene from now on." As there was no way for me to reject her, I was forced to add Eugene's contact to my phone. However, the moment he had my number, he flooded my phone with messages. [Mr. Sanders, is the client you're meeting tomorrow with the surname Charleston a man or a woman?] [Where are you having the meeting tomorrow? Wear something casual tomorrow. It would be best if you avoid washing your face and hair. Otherwise, I would think you're trying to seduce my wife.] [I believe your relationship with Tina is innocent. You're not allowed to betray me because I'm treating you like my buddy!] [By the way, you have an extra duty from now on. You need to remind Tina every 30 minutes to send me a message telling me that she loves me.] As I read these ridiculous messages, I laughed in anger. I put my phone on silent mode and flung it to the side before going to bed. The next morning, I woke up to dozens of missed calls on my phone.

Giselle Shaw, the intern, has sent a five-dollar bonus to the company's group chat that has 500 members in it. I get crowned as the luckiest person for being able to claim 20 cents from the bonus. So, Giselle tags me in the group chat immediately. "Hey Rebecca! Since you're the luckiest person in the group chat, why don't you send a bonus here? There are 500 people in this group chat altogether, so you can just send 5,000 dollars here. "5,000 dollars isn't much for you, right? It so happens to be the bonus you've received from Mr. Gallagher because of the project you've secured. You can send us the bonus so that we can get some good luck from you!" The moment I refuse, Giselle begins playing the pity card in the group chat by claiming that she can't reap good luck for everyone in the company. My boyfriend, Vincent Gallagher, rushes into my office and starts berating me angrily. "Rebecca Campbell, just how stingy are you to not want to send a five-thousand-dollar bonus to the group chat despite being a higher-up in this company? You even made a young woman cry! Is this how you do things? "You'd better send a 50-thousand-dollar bonus to the group chat right now and write a five-thousand-word apology letter by hand! I want you to sincerely apologize to Giselle as well! Otherwise, I'll break up with you! You can forget about retaining your position in this company, too!"

Marshall Locke, the assistant working for my wife, Amelia Stone, leaves out three zeroes on a contract. It leads to ten million dollars in losses for the company. The factory that has collaborated with us on the project goes bankrupt, and its owner jumps off a building as a result of the situation. All Marshall does is shed a few tears, and Amelia immediately pins all the blame on me. She claims I single-handedly managed the entire project. I get sued in court, which leaves me ten million dollars in debt. When the deceased's family posts about me online, the entire internet curses me out, saying that I should die too. My entire industry blacklists me. The career I've painstakingly built up for myself is destroyed just like that. But when I confront Amelia about this, she simply looks at her freshly manicured nails and says airily, "Marshall is young and inexperienced. You've been in the business for so many years now. It's not like this has caused any damage to you." Recalling the way she and Marshall had been wrapped up in a passionate kiss before I came in, I pull out the divorce agreement I prepared in advance and toss it at her. "Sign it."

Unable to take it anymore, I upload a photo of my husband, Johann Garner, holding hands with his secretary, Eva Ford, to the company's group chat. A long while later, Johann finally replies, "It's just something we do when we're working together. Those who are vile in nature will always view things differently from others." Messages from his colleagues begin flooding the group chat immediately. They all discuss whether or not I'm delusional. But I'm the only one who knows just how skilled Johann is at manipulating others as an expert manipulator. After muting the group chat, I look down at the ring Johann has slipped onto my finger when he first proposed to me. When exactly can I escape from the prison he has built around me?

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

Alistair Kingsley's secretary, Nerina Larson, calls herself a lucky charm with a dream that she wants to achieve. Apparently, she has used the 500 thousand dollars in the company's account, which is set aside for the employees' year-end bonuses, on lottery tickets. Excitedly, she sends a voice message on the company's group chat. "This lucky charm shall win prizes for everyone! Call me the lucky charm who knows how to manage finances the best!" Alistair claims that Nerina is a very high-spirited and interesting young woman. He even criticizes me for being a stick in the mud. During the final compulsory meeting before the New Year holidays, thousands of employees are waiting for their bonuses so that they can celebrate the holidays happily. But Nerina has the nerve to tear the back-up check I've prepared into pieces in front of everyone. She claims that she has never lost when it comes to luck, so she wants to live stream the process of her scratching the lottery tickets. In my previous life, I called the security guards and had her removed from the stage. Then, I quickly used my authority to send everyone their salaries. That was how I managed to calm everyone down and helped the company avoid going into bankruptcy. With tears streaming down her eyes, Nerina rushed out of the company. "All of my fans call me the lucky queen, and that I'll definitely score the grand prize today! But now, my live streaming gig is all ruined!" On the same night, Nerina dies from hypothermia after drinking herself to a stupor on the streets. With bloodshot eyes, Alistair ran over me with his car repeatedly. "Why can't you just believe her just this once? What if she can strike the jackpot and lead everyone down the path of wealth?" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Nerina carries a few sacks of lottery tickets onto the stage. This time, I'm the first one to applaud for her. I want Alistair to witness how his beloved lucky charm can bring ruination upon the entire company!

I was in the middle of signing a contract when my phone rang. It was my younger sister, Lily Carter. Her voice was cautious, almost hesitant. “Hey… did you get divorced?” The question caught me off guard. I was about to answer when another voice suddenly cut in on her end of the line, a woman I didn’t recognize. She called out Lily’s name sharply. “Did you forget all the rules I set for you? During work hours, your only job is to serve me. Who said you could hide in the restroom?” A crisp slap echoed through the phone. “Now tell me,” the woman demanded. “What are the rules?” A second later, Lily spoke, her voice small and trembling. “First, during work hours, I have to lower myself when I speak to you. “Second, everything I earn has to be handed over to you. “Third, my phone has to stay on at all times. Whatever you say, I have to do it immediately.” The woman let out a mocking laugh. “At least you remember. One more. When we’re outside, you call me Mrs. Shaw, the boss’s wife. Make sure everyone in the company knows exactly who I am.” Hearing my sister’s quiet sobs, something inside me snapped. I immediately switched to a video call and dialed my husband, Daniel Shaw. “So,” I said coldly when he picked up, “you’ve been using your position at my company to keep a ‘wannabe Mrs.’ on the side, haven’t you?”

I accidentally used the shared bank card linked to my husband, Ryan Newman. Before I could even leave the store, two officers pinned me to the ground and accused me of embezzling company funds. Right then, Ryan’s new secretary, Georgia Hawkins, called me. "Mrs. Newman, I was the one who reported you! Do you have any idea how hard Mr. Newman works for his money? "He works himself to the bone every day. You can’t keep spending so recklessly anymore! Starting today, I’ll be managing all your expenses. Every purchase needs my approval first! "Oh, and your monthly spending limit is now $500. You already spent $499 today, so don’t even think about spending another cent this month." Listening to her smug little lecture, I laughed. Georgia had only been at the company for a month. Just because Ryan treated her politely at work, she’d started acting like she ran his entire life. Little did she know, the company belonged to me. Every dollar in Ryan's bank account came from me, including her paycheck. As for the Mr. Newman she worshiped so much? He was just the man who married into my family. So what gave her the right to manage my money?

My husband, Keaton Smyth, CEO of Orion Corp, ran the company under strict rules. I brought in a $10 million investment. But I clocked in one second late, so bye-bye VP promotion. I got accused of disrespecting company policy, demoted, and slapped with a pay cut. Then there was Evie Larsen, his shiny new assistant. She ditched work on the day of a huge contract signing and trashed Orion's only shot with a public company. Keaton's response? No punishment. No write-up. He called it "personality," promoted her right there, gave her a raise, and tossed her a river-view apartment as company housing. Evie still wanted more. She pushed to take over Orion's core project, all so she could "prove herself." I shut her down. That same day, she marched into Keaton's office and accused me of power-tripping, insulting her, and refusing to train her. I thought Keaton would see through it. The next morning, my name was gone from the project team. My file access was revoked, too. "Since you're too senior to mentor new hires, you're starting over. Entry-level sales rep. Same level as them." Everyone waited for me to snap. I just smiled and handed over the flash drive with the project data. Keaton nodded, pleased. "Don't let it happen again." What he didn't know? That data wasn't complete. The second they uploaded it, the errors would tank the project—and trigger a breach-of-contract penalty big enough to bury them.

I was the only daughter of the Sheffield family, and I had three older brothers. Life was going well until a memo app appeared on my phone. [June 15th: My eldest brother, Ian Sheffield, signed a bet agreement with his female secretary, and Sheffield Group's market value plummeted by 80 billion dollars.] [September 3rd: My second brother, Hayes Sheffield, was tricked by his dream girl and left the shareholders' meeting with nothing to his name.] [December 1st: My third brother, Liam Sheffield, gave up his inheritance rights for his dream girl, and the Sheffield family was completely ruined.] Just like that, I, Trina Sheffield, lost all three of my guaranteed providers? From that day on, I began the 'Save My Providers' plan. I swiped Ian's black card for 30 million dollars a day, causing him to become busy handling returns and customer complaints all day. I flew Hayes' private jet to Prosia and casually dismantled the entire interior, saying I was going to redo it. He was so mad that he kept me under surveillance through an eight-hour international video call. I turned Liam's temperature-controlled wine cellar into a karaoke room and sang all night, even using all eight million dollars' worth of wine for foot baths. Dark eye circles constantly plagued my three brothers from all this fuss; they did not even have time to look at their phones. As long as I was around, they could only revolve around me. This went on until a female secretary, Erin Langley, suddenly appeared in Ian's office. She glanced at me, her tone gentle but her eyes icy. "Little girl, the CEO's office isn't a playground. You can get lost and go play now." The corridor fell silent. My most fiercely protective brother, Ian, was about to push open the door and walk in.

At the party celebrating the multimillion-dollar deal I've landed, my husband, Nick Ferguson, is about to announce my promotion and raise, but Ruby Holm, his secretary, deliberately interrupts him by feeding him her drink. My germaphobic husband doesn't even flinch. Without thinking, he puts the straw she has just used into his mouth. The employees immediately start teasing them, asking when they're getting married. Instead of denying it, Nick promotes Ruby to department manager. A coworker nudges my elbow. "Chloe, you've been with Mr. Ferguson for ten years. You're really not going to say anything?" I let out a cold laugh and toss my equity transfer agreement to Ruby. "Mr. Ferguson, don't be so stingy. A promotion isn't enough. Take these shares too. Consider them my wedding gift to the two of you!"

Right before Memorial Day weekend, I finally land a rush order from an overseas client, but they insist on delivery on the first day after the holiday. The factory has been sitting idle for two weeks, and the profit from this single order is enough to keep the entire company running for the next six months. I immediately post a notice in the company group chat. "Anyone willing to work over the holiday weekend gets paid five times their base rate, but it's completely voluntary." Nobody takes the offer. Instead, the new intern, Howard Chase, screenshots my message and posts it online. "Heartless boss treats us like machines and forces us to give up Memorial Day weekend." To make matters worse, a few veteran workers chime in with skepticism. "I've never seen anyone actually get paid five times the base rate. I'll believe it when I see it." That very night, the post goes viral, and the onslaught of online criticism forces me to turn off my phone. What's even more absurd is that Howard secretly creates another group chat to rally the workers and pressure me into increasing the pay even more. The next day, I hold a meeting and lay out the cost sheet right in front of everyone. "Paying you five times your base rate already eats up 80% of the profit from this order. The rest has to cover our rent for the second half of the year. I'm not keeping a single dime for myself." I figure laying all my cards on the table like this will make them understand. But Howard immediately goes back to the group chat and stirs everyone up. "Don't back down, everyone! He can definitely pay more. Hold the line until he gives us ten times the base rate!" That's when I lose faith in them completely. I spend the whole night thinking it over, and by morning I know exactly what to do. At the meeting the next day, I announce with a smile, "Management accepts everyone's criticism and will make major changes. Everyone gets the entire Memorial Day weekend off. Not a single day of overtime." Everyone freezes. Someone quietly asks what I am going to do about the order. "I outsourced it. At five times the normal rate, plenty of people are happy to jump at the chance," I reply. By that afternoon, the outsourcing contract is signed, and the client has signed off on the arrangement. Once that sinks in, every single worker starts to panic.