Workplace Short Stories & Novels

On my very first day at work, I received an unexpected "Carpool Request": "I am currently 3 weeks pregnant. Since I don't know how to drive and for the safety of my baby, I require my colleagues to take turns picking me up and dropping me off." "After some research, I found that your car is worth a lot of money, and it’s less than a year old, meeting my standards for a suitable ride. You will be responsible for driving me home today after work." "I don’t work overtime, so please pack up your things before clock-out time and leave the office on schedule." I frowned and immediately replied: "If you have no shame, I’m happy to donate it to someone who truly needs it!"

Six months later, Carlo, who once terrorized Port San Vito and forced us to pay protection money, knelt in the muddy water and blocked my path. Red-eyed, he begged me to bring the Moretti convoys back. "Ms. Moretti, if you come back, there'll be no protection money and no parking fees... I'll even pay you." I regarded him coldly and remembered how, six months earlier, he had flicked ash onto my financial statements and looked down at me as he said, "Pay, or get out of Port San Vito."

As New Year's Day approaches, a new hire who has only been with the company for six months, who is a mama's girl, calls the police and tries to have me arrested. She suspects our company is some kind of a scam. But the truth is, the company exceeded its performance targets this year. That is why I prepared a million-dollar year-end bonus, a ten-day premium trip to Graceland, and equity grants for my employees. Yet, she waves around a video her mother sends her, claiming that high-paying jobs like the one I offered are all traps. Not only that, she slanders my company all over the internet. Netizens become outraged and call me a scammer disguised as an entrepreneur. Having become the target of public criticism, I simply issue a notice, saying, "The company will immediately begin transfer procedures, and all perks are canceled." As soon as the announcement comes out, my employees, who have just taken out loans to buy homes and just gotten their visas for the trip, are completely stunned.

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 day the company is exposed for accounting fraud, my wife, Megan Grant, immediately holds a press conference to protect Liam Johnson. She shifts all the blame onto me, publicly declaring that I will be punished by the law. Liam puts on an act of heartbreak, saying, "Flynn, I warned you a long time ago that you can't just take the company's money. Why didn't you listen?" My coworkers stare at me in disbelief, expecting me to defend myself. Instead, I smile, take responsibility for everything, and resign. Megan thinks I've finally come to my senses and quietly promises me, "Once this blows over, I'll find a way to get your position back. I'll also tell everyone about our marriage. Consider it my way of making it up to you." However, there's one thing she doesn't know. In order to protect the company's interests, the chairman ordered me to install monitoring software on all the company's computers on the day we opened our doors. Once he retrieves those system logs, their lies will fall apart! When the truth comes to light, they won't just be facing massive financial fines; they'll be facing prison time too!

During the annual awards gala, I stepped out to use the restroom. When I came back, my year-end bonus was gone, canceled for allegedly assaulting a new coworker, Elan Crowe. In my first life, I desperately tried to prove my innocence by showing my fitness tracker’s movement data, proving I had been in the bathroom. Calder Roane, the department head, flew into a rage. "Everyone in the department saw you hit him. And you still want to deny it?" I struggled and explained frantically, but in the chaos, I accidentally fell down the stairs and died on the spot. In my second life, I took medical leave and skipped the gala entirely. I never expected that just past noon, the police would surround my home. "Lyra Vale, you’re suspected of intentional homicide. You need to come with us." Elan’s enraged family had then rushed forward and stabbed me repeatedly. I died again. In my third life, I ran to the city plaza, started a livestream, and rapped on camera, turning every viewer into my alibi. That night, the police still came. "The evidence is conclusive. Please come with us." At the station, they pulled up surveillance footage. It clearly showed me sneaking into the gala hall, arguing with Elan, then picking up a knife and stabbing him straight in the back. I was completely stunned. Three days later, I took a bullet. After endless rebirths, I finally laughed in anger. This time, I stormed straight into the gala hall, pressed a knife across Elan's throat, and said, "This is a kidnapping."

After I, Wynn Jaffe, the Chief Forensic Pathologist, submitted my request to transfer into a clerical position, everyone in the department lit up with joy and approved it unanimously. Everyone except my boyfriend’s childhood friend, Yvette Hans, the rookie forensic doctor who called herself the ‘corpse whisperer,’ completely broke down. She burst into my office, grabbed onto my white coat with both hands with reddened eyes. “Senior, your skills may be outdated, but I truly hope you’ll stay and keep speaking up for the victims!” I coldly shrugged off her hand, packed my things, and walked away. In my previous life, she claimed herself as the ‘corpse whisperer,’ someone who could commune with the dead, hear their murmurs, and know what happened to them before they died. I worked tirelessly on every autopsy, dissecting, analyzing, and revising my reports. She only needed a single glance at the body to recite my entire report word-for-word. The victims’ families treated her like a saint, while they sneered at me, accusing me of disrespecting the dead. I could not accept it. I poured everything I had into every examination, but she always beat me to it, revealing the truth before I could. In the end, an extreme group of grieving family members, convinced I desecrated a corpse, kidnapped me, dismembered me, and dumped my remains in the wilderness. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn back to the very day Yvette first claimed she was a corpse whisperer.

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!

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.

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.

Five days after I saved my girlfriend from an unhinged, violent patient, the wound on my arm tore open and got infected again. I wanted her to drive me to the hospital, but she spared me a glance before refusing, citing the need to avoid her being seen treating family. Left with no choice, I took a cab to the hospital by myself. Dizzy and weak from a burning fever, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs, injuring my foot in the fall. At that exact moment, my supposedly busy girlfriend, Stella Sloan, was gently supporting her young male intern and passing right by me to cut in line for emergency treatment. A nearby nurse quickly tried to smooth things over for her. “Dr. Sloan takes great care of all the new hires. Don’t worry, she’ll come and get you as soon as she’s done.” A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. She had registered me as a patient thirty-three times, yet my own girlfriend had never once picked up my medical chart. “Forget it. Don’t bother.” I stared up at the blinding glare of the fluorescent lights above. My ticket home was booked for two days from now, and my resignation letter had been approved. Stella, you and I are officially over.

At the contract-signing meeting, a major client casually asks our new technician if she can handle her alcohol. She immediately pours a glass of red wine over his head and says coolly, "This sort of socializing is a bad habit. I'm putting an end to it." Leon Langley, a top client who brings the company 300 million dollars in annual revenue, flies into a rage and tears up the contract on the spot. As the project lead, I bend over backward to apologize and drink with Mr. Langley until I'm hospitalized with gastric bleeding—just to salvage the deal. When I report the incident to my boss, he scolds me instead. "As the person in charge, you nearly ruined the project. Forget the three-million-dollar commission we planned to give you. Consider this a warning." After that, I put Hannah Storrie's name on the department's downsizing review list. She sneers. "I'm a top talent the boss poached at great expense. I'm not some cheap hostess who survives by smiling and drinking like you. "Firing me would be throwing the company down the drain. When that happens, you'll be begging me to come back." I ignore her. However, when the review period ends, the name on the layoff list turns out to be mine. My boss seizes the opportunity to announce that Hannah will replace me as the new sales director. "Clients are extremely important to us. You don't seriously think you're capable of landing them, do you? "Hannah's is more qualified, more tech-savvy, and prettier than you. She's clearly the better choice." I simply smile, turn around, and dial a number.

The meeting was nearly over when the company's newest programmer projected a screenshot of a document bearing my name. "Mr. Stark, I'm reporting Lina for misappropriating company assets. She put her personal name on the company's core algorithm." Every head in the room turned toward me. I almost smiled. I had built that algorithm on my own years earlier and later lent it to the company. Misappropriation? The accusation was almost laughable. I expected it to collapse under its own weight. I did not expect my boyfriend, the CEO, to nod in agreement. "Lina, this was a collective effort in the end. Update the credit to the company's name after the meeting." I struggled to process what I was hearing. He had come to me in tears, begging to use that algorithm. He had built the entire company on it. I had trusted him completely, so I had never put a single word in writing. Now that trust had become the very thing he used against me. A chill settled in my chest. I picked up the USB drive and set it down hard on the table. "Fine. Change it yourselves." None of them knew I had filed for a patent the moment I finished the algorithm. Unauthorized use of someone else's patent was a serious offense. People went to prison for it.

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."

The authorities called me in, and the hospital slapped me with a formal reprimand. All because an intern posted a security shot outside the OR at two in the morning and accused me of using young doctors as unpaid labor. I'd set up a flexible scheduling system so doctors could juggle family life and night shifts. After getting buried in nonstop hate, I made a statement right there. "I hear the criticism. Changes start now." The next day, I pulled every intern off the clinical floor and told them to focus on coursework. The notice went out, and the interns completely lost it.

At our company's tenth-anniversary party, my four childhood friends, who were also my business partners, slid a contract in front of me. "There's a serious PR crisis in Dayaka, and we need the whole team out there. "Pull this off, and we'll own this industry. "Cora, you've always been decisive. You're not going to back out just because there might be fighting, right?" Jared Blake wore his usual confident smile. Standing behind him was Faye Sterling, the illegitimate daughter the Sterling family had only recently brought home. I signed it right in front of them. As everyone cheered, Jared made me a promise. "Cora, once this is over and we're back, we'll get married." Later, I pushed open the conference room door. The projector was still hooked up to Jared's laptop, and on the screen was a group chat they'd forgotten to close. "Dayaka's settled?" "Done. One empty promise was all it took to get her to that hellhole. Now Faye can stay in Nova City and take over as senior partner, fair and square." "Jared's taking the biggest hit, though. He has to keep playing fiancé to that control freak." I stood in front of the screen, holding my files. Behind me, the door opened, and I heard the four of them laughing and talking as they crowded around their little princess. I turned around. The moment our eyes met, every smile in the room froze.

Andrea Reeves, the new hire in finance, is all looks and no brains. On payday, she mistypes my wages in the payroll system, sending only one cent to my account. Because of that, my payment fails when I try to buy Mom's life-saving medication, and she dies full of regret. Before I can confront Andrea, she bursts into tears, smudging her mascara and makeup. "Ms. Walton, I'm so sorry. I accidentally sent your pay to the janitor you fired. The one who's a single mom. Can't you just think of her as your other mom?" Norman Halt, the finance director—and my husband—immediately shields her behind him. "Don't blame Andrea. If you didn't have enough money saved up, why are you pretending to be the dutiful daughter now?" I nearly faint from crying so hard. Wracked with guilt, Andrea shows up at the funeral with an entire marching band in tow. The mourning hall turns festive and lively, leaving my family and friends stunned. I lose it and yell at her to leave, but she looks completely hurt. "It's already so tragic that she dies from an illness. I just want to give her a joyful send-off!" Furious, the asthma I've managed for years flares so abruptly that my hands shake as I take out my inhaler. She slaps it away and screams, "How could you use such illegal substances? That's against the law!" Blue-lipped and gasping, I crumple to the ground. In my final moments, I hear Andrea's tearful voice. "This is all my fault. I'm an idiot… I didn't realize it's just medicine…" Norman covers for her. "It's not your fault. Spread the word that Ms. Walton died of grief over her mother's passing." That night, my body is cremated. My death goes silent and unnoticed. When I open my eyes again, it's payday all over again.

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.

I've kicked my 28-thousand-dollar high-tech drone into the lake. In my previous life, when my company held a team-bonding session by camping out in the mountains, my colleague, Melissa Schubert's beloved pet dog—that she views as her own son—has gotten lost in the woods. With tears trickling down her cheeks, she tugs at my sleeve. "I can't live without Max! Please use your drone to look for him!" Eager to help Melissa out, I immediately power on my drone and start scouring the woods for Max. But Melissa thinks I'm being far too slow on the controller, so she snatches it from me and starts messing around with the controls. As a result, the drone spirals out of control and crashes into the woods. As soon as its battery explodes, it starts a forest fire immediately. But when faced against the police, Melissa doesn't hesitate to throw me under the bus. "Lauren was the one who kept flaunting her stupid drone! Not only did she set fire to the mountain, but she also killed my dog!" On top of having to pay a huge fire insurance claim, I also get sentenced by the court, leaving me with a criminal record. My dad is forced to work at a construction site just to help me gather the funds needed for the compensation. That's when he accidentally falls off the scaffolding, resulting in him getting paralyzed permanently. All of my relatives have also cut ties with us. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the cliffside on the day of the camping trip. This time, I don't hesitate to kick my drone into the lake. A second later, Melissa rushes to me while bawling at the top of her lungs. "My dog has gone missing! Quick, help me look for him with your drone!" I turn around to look at her. "You should be calling the police and asking a professional search-and-rescue team for help if you want to look for your dog. Why are you looking for me instead?"

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."