Workplace 단편 소설 & 소설

“Hudson, lend me your car for today,” my driver asked over a call as I was busy working in the office. I sat stunned for a few seconds, then said, "Uncle Wagner, have I said yes before you started using my car? Also, the client I’m meeting today is very important. Go to the airport right now to pick him up.” “I have something urgent to attend to and need the car. I’ve just transferred 20 dollars to your client. Isn’t it the same getting him to take a taxi to the hotel?” When I read my driver’s text, anger rose in my chest. He had been working for me for three months. He was great at the start, and I respectfully addressed him as Uncle Wagner on account of him being similar in age as my dad. Did he really think that made him my uncle?

"Veya AI, book me a table for a business dinner tomorrow." In my last life, our intern, Vincent Tate, tried using AI to book a client dinner. I told him Veya AI couldn't make reservations. Yet he waited until after work to do it himself. Too late. Every table was gone. Vincent immediately started crying to the whole office. "If Mr. Alford hadn't stopped me from using AI, I would've gotten a table! Now we blew the deal!" My fiancée, Peyton Welch, and the rest of my coworkers piled on. "Why can't AI make reservations? Vincent's right. You're paying for every dollar we lose!" Peyton shoved me during the fight. Then I fell off the building. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right at the moment Vincent tried using AI to book the table. This time, I kept my mouth shut. I listened as he gave Veya AI the command. Go for it, Vincent. Let's see AI get you that table...

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”

On the day of the company’s annual meeting, Victoria Quinn brought a man onstage and publicly announced that he was the newly appointed vice president. All eyes in the room instantly turned to me. Mr. Lane looked at me with undisguised mockery. “Ms. Quinn, Mr. Cabell has been with the company for so many years. How did this promotion skip over him?” Victoria smiled casually. “Mr. Cabell is a pillar of the company. He’s most effective staying at the grassroots level.” I knew she was certain I would not object and that I would not leave her. When I glanced at the new vice president, I understood why. He looked exactly like her first love from college, the one who had died in an accident. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I ripped off my ID badge, tossed it in front of Victoria, and said, “Ms. Quinn, I quit.”

After my girlfriend returns from a month-long business trip with her first love, she notices that I've changed. She sides with him to take over my project, but I don't quit in anger. Instead, I throw myself into helping him, even drafting proposals for him. She destroys the design I worked so hard on to help him snag the year-end bonus, yet I don't try to defend myself. I take all the blame and let her punish me however she likes. Even when she goes as far as to promote him to general manager against the rules, I don't get upset. I hand over all my shares, letting her distribute them as she wishes. My girlfriend wonders why I've suddenly become so submissive, while her first love just grins smugly. "See? I told you—giving him the cold shoulder works. Once he's afraid of losing you, he'll fall in line," he says. It clicks for my girlfriend. She smiles, tells me I've been good, and offers me a promotion. Then, she unexpectedly asks me to propose. But she doesn't seem to realize that while we weren't speaking, she has already signed my resignation papers. And I've already broken up with her. From this moment on, I sever all ties with her, and we no longer have anything to do with each other.

After I was offered a job at a Top 500 company, a vetting officer was sent to conduct a background check on me. Before the background check started, an old friend of mine, Coco Wilson, appeared with her medical records. "I want to report Sandra Luther for bullying me at university for four years!" She cried pitifully. "Not only did she cause me to suffer from depression, but she also stole my portfolio to apply for her job. How can she bully ordinary people like us just because she has a wealthy father?" Coco's words quickly became the latest trending headline. Walden Industries, the company that was supposed to hire me, had high ethical standards, and they announced that my hiring was suspended. My father was also suspended at work to undergo an investigation. Netizens cyberbullied me, while Coco became famous overnight by gaining sympathy through the media exposure. I burst out laughing. After graduating from high school, I left the country with my father to work on a major project. I had never attended university. Which university did Coco claim I bullied her at?

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.

At the company’s year-end party, management tried to cut costs by using junk as raffle items. The prize box was filled with bottle caps, instant noodle wrappers, toothpaste boxes, and other trash. Everyone was only allowed to pick one item and scan the QR code on it. Whether you won anything depended entirely on luck. I casually picked up a bottle cap and unexpectedly won a car worth 500,000 dollars. As soon as the vice president found out, he rejected my win and demanded that I hand over the prize. “The company spent 20 dollars to get these raffle items from a recycler. Any prizes won have to be recorded in the books as company assets. They belong to the company.” My boss reprimanded me as well, “Have you lost your mind because you’ve been poor? Do you think you could have won without the company? You don’t know how to be grateful, and now, you’re trying to take company property. Stop causing a scene!” I did not argue and calmly handed over the bottle cap. Then, I turned around and called one of our clients. My boss had forgotten one thing: I was the company’s top salesperson. If he insisted on crossing me, I would make him lose five million.

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!

An intern named Maxim Barker has joined the company. When he's in the middle of his self-introduction, I see a bunch of comments suddenly popping up in front of my eyes. "Holy shit, Maxim is finally here! Soon, Charmaine will be reunited with him. She'll then ditch William just to be with Maxim again!" "William, don't you dare start anything now! You'd better go along with Maxim's flow and help him get back together with Charmaine!" "That's right! If William stops the plot from progressing, he'll face dire consequences! He can only survive by relying on Maxim!" As soon as Maxim is done with his introduction, he walks over to my desk and picks up the document I'm about to hand in to my girlfriend, Charmaine Fitzpatrick, who works as a manager. "Let me pass the document to the manager." But as soon as Maxim enters Charmaine's office, he gets thrown out immediately. "Get the hell out of my office! Not everyone is allowed to enter my office, you know!"

I set up a company cafeteria for employees with an abundant meal daily worth 150 dollars per person. Meals are prepared by a world-renowned master chef. Every day, I only ask my employees to contribute a token of one dollar. Instead of gratitude, all I get is their envy of the neighboring company. "I wish we had that. Their healthy lunches cost them nothing, and the company covers everything." "Yeah. Free salads always seem to taste the best." Before long, this chatter spreads through the office, and the new hires carry it into the company's group chat. "Mr. Shaw, can we switch things up? All this rich, heavy food is just too much for us!" A few of the senior employees quickly jump in. "Yes, Mr. Shaw! We're not asking for anything extravagant. We only want something like the healthy lunches the other company gives out for free!" Perfect. They ignore my lavish 150-dollar meals that cost them almost nothing, yet they pine over the neighboring company's modest lunches. I scroll through the chat, feeling nothing but sharp irony. I immediately send a company-wide email. "Attention, everyone! By popular demand, and so you can all experience a truly free lunch, the cafeteria's daily meal is reduced from abundant to simple starting today. "Snacks and fruit options are discontinued and replaced with the same healthy lunch set offered by the neighboring company. The company will cover the full cost. Enjoy your meal!"

From a stall in the office restroom, I overhear someone badmouthing me. Henry Fielder, the intern I've been mentoring for three months, grumbles, "The guy's got zero people skills. He's a total fossil, like a robot stuck in one mode." I'm about to push the door open and jump in when someone laughs and piles on. "The paperwork is incomplete. The receipts aren't compliant. I can't reimburse it without a manager's signature. We could recite his canned empathy lines in our sleep!" Once they're gone, I quietly head back to my office. Later, Henry drops a thick stack of expense reports onto my desk. "Quit waving the rulebook and rejecting everyone's reimbursements." I skim the fake receipts, and for once, I don't call him out. Instead, I give a thin smile and say, "I have a headache. I can't make out the words."

When I hand in my resignation and pack up my things, I make sure to box up my 100,000 dollars' worth of camera equipment. However, my colleague Reed Lanrod, an intern who joined the company after me, immediately throws a tantrum. "What are we supposed to use if you take all that equipment with you? You're already leaving, and you're still leeching off the company? That's not right!" I keep my cool and patiently explain, "I bought every single piece of this gear with my own money. It's got nothing to do with the company." Reed, who's been eyeing my equipment for the longest time, storms off. Not long after, the boss, Karen Halfpenny, calls me into her office. "You've been keeping the equipment in our office, so it's been using our electricity and taking up our office space. That makes it company property. You're not taking a single item with you." I can't help but laugh at the sheer audacity. When I first joined the company, Karen told me to treat the company like home. So, to get the job done right, I gradually spent 100,000 dollars of my own money to buy camera equipment and store it at the office. Now she's calling it company property? Fine. I immediately call the IRS and report the company for tax evasion and fraud. They insist the 100,000-dollar setup is theirs, yet they've never paid a single cent of tax on it. In that case, let's see what the IRS agents think about that.

The new intern, Cynthia Joller, had posted about me online, claiming the company had made them use their leave for team building. No one wanted to fly all the way to an island to spend time with colleagues. However, what the internet did not know was that our company's team-building tradition involved booking a top-notch five-star resort every year: all-inclusive, family-friendly, with an extra three days of paid leave, and a $30,000 budget per person. The whole internet dubbed me a cold-blooded capitalist, so I decided to give in to their demands and issued a notice. [In response to employee feedback and to honor personal time, this year's team-building retreat has been canceled. Instead, a $500 allowance for personal travel will be provided.] The notice stirred up a commotion in the company. Long-time employees gathered at my office door, pleading for the return of the sunny Madiles retreat.

I was the youngest daughter of the wealthy Sutton family, and everyone knew me as a fool. I had been quiet and dull since I was little, and I could barely get a word out. However, everyone else in the Sutton family was exceptional. My older brother, Julian Sutton, took the world of high finance by storm at 18 years old. My older sister, Yara Sutton, earned two doctorates at the age of 20. My parents simply couldn't believe I was really their daughter. They had 18 DNA tests done and consulted every renowned doctor and expert they could find. After more than a decade of trying, my whole family finally gave up. The truth was, I could speak. I just didn't want to. In my previous life, I was a star lawyer who had never lost a case. I had said all I needed to say back then. In this life, I only wanted to quietly live as someone who never spoke. That was until today, when Sutton Group was hit by a hostile short-selling attack and faced bankruptcy. Our rival showed up at the company with an acquisition agreement. My dad, Richard Sutton, looked grim. Julian went through every clause and couldn't find a flaw. Even Steven Gould, the attorney our family had paid a fortune to retain for ten years, had already been bought off. At that moment, Steven put on a look of righteousness. "Mr. Sutton, just sign it. This is the only way to protect your family. I checked the contract. There's nothing wrong with it." Dad let out a long sigh and shakily picked up his pen. I was getting annoyed listening to all this nonsense, and I couldn't keep pretending. As my whole family stared in shock, I walked over and flipped the agreement to page three. I said, "The main agreement and its attachments have conflicting jurisdiction clauses. If you sign this, the Sutton family will walk away with nothing and still be left with billions in debt." I looked at Steven with a smile that never reached my eyes. "Mr. Gould, it looks like you don't do much online shopping. Those discounts are pretty extreme."

At Cross Meridian’s pre-closing celebration, Mia Foster, an investment manager who had joined the company three months earlier, took the stage and announced that she was about to expose its biggest fraud. Photographs filled the screen behind her. There I was playing golf during office hours, drinking champagne on a private yacht, and attending a jewelry launch while the deal team worked through the night. Then came my attendance record. Twenty-three days in six months. Yet my name stood at the top of the financing round’s contribution report. “Seventy-eight employees have worked themselves into the ground, but she gets the credit because she’s the CEO’s fiancée,” Mia said. “Why should a corporate parasite who does nothing but party rank first?” Employees began applauding after glancing at Adrian Cross, our CEO and my fiancé. Mia ripped the access card from my neck and dropped it into a champagne bucket. “Admit that you stole the team’s credit and resign, or I’ll make sure all of Chicago knows how you earned that position.” What she didn’t know was that every photograph documented a negotiation behind the deal. The golf meeting expanded our credit line. The yacht meeting kept a major partner from leaving. The jewelry launch brought in our lead investor. She also didn’t know Bellini was my mother’s last name. In Chicago, I had another one. Moretti. But Mia wasn’t the person who disappointed me most. Adrian studied the cropped photographs and my access card floating in the ice water. He knew exactly what those meetings had accomplished. Still, he didn’t defend me. “Elena, do you really have to steal Mia’s credit tonight?”

During a round of truth or dare, my boss, Victoria Hale, leaned in and kissed my husband, Ethan Graves. As just another junior employee, I didn’t even have the chance to call her out in front of everyone. Instead, I slipped away to the restroom and asked Ethan for a divorce. He brushed it off as if I were only sulking. "Don’t take it so seriously. She’s just had too much to drink. In the corporate world, you have to entertain, play along for the sake of the project." However, in the very next round, when Victoria was dared to kiss someone else, Ethan flipped the table in front of everyone. "Touch her, and see what happens."

My fiancée of seven years, Scarlett Blair, sits on my boss' lap, peeling grapes for him. At the annual company gala, he stands on stage and beams as he deliberately awards me the title of "Most Selfless Employee". The giant screen behind him doesn't display my accomplishments. Instead, it shows surveillance footage of my fiancée in a skimpy outfit and black stockings, giving him a private work report in his office. It's taken down almost immediately and cited as a technical glitch, but the laughter that erupts throughout the hall is deafening enough to bring the roof down. In an instant, all eyes are on me, yet I smile like a blind man and walk up to the stage to accept the award. "James, a man has to be open-minded if he wants to get ahead in life. Don't you agree?" Zachary Trent pats my cheek, his eyes brimming with mockery. I nod obsequiously. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Trent. Thank you for the advice." The guests think I'm a coward, that I'm willing to swallow my pride and sacrifice every ounce of my dignity for a paltry eight grand a month. Little do they know, my phone's practically vibrating itself to pieces. Once I slip into the deserted emergency stairwell, I wipe the smile off my face and dial the phone number registered to the prestigious family compound in the capital. The call connects almost instantaneously, and a woman's lazy yet aloof voice comes through. "What's the matter? Is my husband showing off your wife in front of the entire company again?"

It was three days before the Turner family council announced its list of new members. I'd taken my boyfriend Colton Pierce's paperwork to three different crews for signatures, and his application was finally ready. Every application to the council needed signatures from three capos. The council made the family's biggest decisions. Its members could even decide who got to run a crew. Colton and I had spent six months preparing to join the council. But when I finished work that night, the application on the table was soaked in red wine, and the signatures had been deliberately rubbed away. The signatures were completely illegible. Before I could say anything, Colton's adoptive sister, Beth Pierce, walked over with the wine bottle in her hand, her eyes red. "I didn't mean to, Monica. I accidentally spilled red wine on your application." Colton lit a cigar and said flatly, "Don't scare Beth. She scares easily. Just submit a new application next year." "This is an application to the Turner family council!" I said. "I know. Didn't I just tell you? Resubmit next year. What else do you want? Beth's crying. Are you going to hound her to death over something this small? Stop making a scene." A knot tightened in my chest. Looking at the ruined application on the table, I didn't say anything. My application had already been submitted. This one was Colton's. I wondered how he'd react when he found out it was his future Beth had ruined.

On her first day at work, a new colleague uploaded a 500-million-dollar property purchase agreement to the company group chat. The message was accompanied by the caption: “Thanks for the gift for my first day at work, Dad!” She quickly deleted it, following up with, “Sorry, wrong chat!” I frowned, recognizing the contract immediately. It was the same property my father gifted me for my birthday a month ago. Some sharp-eyed colleagues noticed the contract number and chimed in. “I have a relative in real estate. I remember this property. Our chairman bought it recently!” “So, the heiress has joined us to experience life. Forgive your humble servant for not recognizing you!” The chat was soon filled with flattering remarks. Even my stingy and miserly husband joined in. I felt a coldness in my heart and couldn’t help but respond in the group chat, “I recall the president always opposing ostentatious displays of wealth and advocating humility. This heiress seems to veer away from his usual philosophy.” Instead of support, I faced attacks from my husband and others. “Look at you being so poor and petty. How could you ever compare to Grace? Why did I ever marry someone so shortsighted?” “As if you know the president that well! I think you’re just jealous that Grace was born with a silver spoon!” I sneered coldly and, without hesitation, dialed the president’s number right in front of everyone. “Dad, I heard we’re not that close, hmm?”