Contos e Romances de Workplace

I lead my team to develop a new drug formula that passed its first clinical trial. It becomes the key to the company's IPO. So, the board votes unanimously to award me an additional 5% in shares. But at the celebration party, my shares turn into three hams. I assume it is a prank by my colleagues. But to my surprise, Draco Faraday looks at me with disgust and says, "Don't think I don't know. You used your position as team leader to assign all the experimentation to Avery. Then, you take the credit for the results. This reward should go to her. As for you, you should be satisfied with the ham!" Seeing Avery Blake looking both flattered and overwhelmed, I am rendered speechless. I argue, "Avery is an art major. Does she even understand chemical formulas?" Draco's expression darkens. "Cross-disciplinary expertise is her strength, not a weakness. I won't argue with you this time. If it happens again, I'll fire you!” When I try to defend myself, he snaps, "Starting today, Avery is the team leader. You should get a taste of how it feels to be exploited." I look at him in disbelief for a moment before nodding forcefully with a sneer. "Fine. From now on, I won't assist if the projects run into any issues. Don't regret it." Draco looks at Avery approvingly."The only thing I regret is not making Avery the person in charge sooner."

As I walk out of the emergency room, a woman rushes over to me. "You're a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee. Hurry up and come treat him!" I am about to explain, but she glares at me and questions indignantly, "Isn't a doctor supposed to save people? You have time to slack off, but you have no time to treat my son's wound. Is that it?" She grabs my collar and drags me toward the ward. I try to explain, "Ma'am, I’m not—" But she doesn't listen at all and slaps me across the face. "Not what? Are you blind? Can't you see my son is bleeding? Instead of helping my son, you treat those poor nobodies! If you keep delaying my son's treatment, I won't let you off! "Get on your knees and apologize to him right now! Otherwise, I'll file a complaint and have your license revoked!" I endure the sharp pain and struggle to lift my head. In my five years of practicing medicine, this is the first time I have ever been complained about by a living person. "It's not that I won't treat him. I am a forensic pathologist..."

My company hosts an appreciation gala to thank long-time clients. I go to the company's cold storage to retrieve the batch of wine just flown in from overseas when a stream of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "That was close! She almost caught Daisy covered in red wine and looking all seductive. Good thing Tristan reacted fast and hid her in the freezer." "Can Scarlett just leave already? Look how cold Daisy and Tristan are. They are shivering. What if they catch a cold?" I pause mid-step, my gaze landing on the freezer behind me. Red wine is dripping out, and a piece of fabric is caught in the door. On it, I see the motif I personally sew onto my fiancé's clothes. Just then, the comments appear again. "Tristan plays it cool, claiming he is all about platonic love and staying chaste for Daisy. What a touching romance!" I smirked coldly. The platonic act is fake. The truth is he's cheating on me. Without a word, I turn around and toss the clothes they leave on the floor into the trash. Then, I lock the cold storage door and call the boss, who is in the middle of giving a speech. I exclaim over the phone, "A thief broke into the company! I locked them in the cold storage. Please bring some men and come over quickly!"

For three years, I’d used my family’s connections to bring the company hundreds of millions in revenue. But at the quarterly meeting, the new intern stood before everyone, displaying my attendance and expense reports, and accused me of “unexcused absences” and “squandering company funds.” “These high-end clubs, these restaurants…” she declared, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. “She spends thousands of dollars every time! These are completely unnecessary expenses.” “I strongly advise the CEO to fire her immediately and save the company’s cash flow.” I glanced at Claude, the CEO. My old classmate. He knew exactly how much revenue each of those meetings generated. He also knew that when I wasn't in the office, I was at some bar, negotiating with investors, sometimes drinking until my stomach turned. But he just stared at me coldly. “Caroline, what’s your explanation for the absences and expenses Lia has presented?” I smiled. “I have nothing to explain.” They would all learn, very soon, the consequences of this little stunt.

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.

At midnight, the ER receives a pregnant patient with an extremely pale face, and she's convulsing violently at the same time. I lift her shirt on the spot so that I can diagnose her symptoms better. But my wife, Selena Carson, who also works as the head nurse, suddenly berates me angrily. "Do you have any idea that what you're doing is sexual harassment? Can't you spare the patient her pride? "Don't use your treatment as an excuse! I refuse to believe that there aren't any female doctors in the ER at all!" The patient's family members streamed the whole thing live. Soon, everyone was blasting me on the Internet. The hospital forces me to apologize to the pregnant patient. But I decide to tender my resignation the very next day. After all, the patient's disease has a frighteningly high chance of getting misdiagnosed, not to mention it's incredibly difficult to cure. In fact, no one but I can cure her once and for all.

After our company's IPO approval is granted, my boyfriend, Derek Calloway, finally agrees to publicize our relationship at the celebratory banquet. Derek and I have been in a relationship for seven years. For so long, he refuses to make our relationship official. He always cites the fact that office romance is forbidden in the company, and that he, as the CEO, should follow through as a prime example. On the night of the banquet, I wait for the news to be broken with bated breath and unadulterated delight. But when Derek stands on the stage, he chooses to utter the name of the new recruit who has just joined the company for two months—Jocelyn Grant. "It's all thanks to Jocelyn's contributions to the project that our company gets to go public. She's the MVP of our company." I just stand beneath the stage, completely stunned. For a moment, I don't know how to react. I'm the main person in charge of that project, and I'm the one who's contributed the most to that project. Not only have I stayed up countless nights working hard on it, but I also got hospitalized a few times because of it. Soon, I receive Derek's text message. "Jocelyn has just joined this line of work. She needs a project to help spruce her resume up. Just let her receive the credits this once. "We'll discuss more on publicizing our relationship in the future." I can only grip my phone so tightly that my fingertips go white. Finally, I key in one word. "Okay." Jocelyn can have the project. She can also have my position as the director. Heck, she's free to have Derek, my now ex-boyfriend. I'd like to see how these assholes can pass the subsequent trials without me.

During a weekly meeting, a new intern suddenly swapped the projection. The screen lit up with my attendance records, and all my colleagues’ eyes turned to me. The girl lifted her chin, a mix of arrogance and ignorance in her gaze, then slammed a stack of photos onto the conference table. “Mr. Anderson, I’d like to report her! She’s been using the company car to shuttle her family around, treating company resources like her personal vehicle. This must be dealt with immediately!” The room fell into an eerie silence. I looked at the eager intern, feeling a trace of sympathy. The “company car” she was complaining about was my luxury car. Three years ago, I had lent it to the company for appearances in business settings. Yet, I never charged a cent.

Carina Lewis, the head of the department, has been a friend of mine since college. While she successfully climbs up the corporate ladder, I'm stuck being the workhorse at the bottom of the totem pole. When she's late for work, I sign in for her. When she messes up, I clean up for her. I'm happy to play along with her, of course. It's not easy to find someone dumb enough to be the scapegoat. One day, a billionaire investor shows up at the company's doorstep, and the senior executives instruct me to take care of him during his visit. This evening, when the rest of the office is empty, Carina takes my hand and tells me earnestly, "Bailey, investors like him are ruthless. You won't even know what's coming for you. An innocent woman like you won't be able to handle him. Let me, your best friend, test the waters with him first. Once everything is settled, I'll make you a manager." I nod sweetly in response. Hours later, I scurry over to the presidential suite at the hotel, where the billionaire investor is staying, and kick down the door. "Open up, Dal!" It's one thing for Carina to constantly take advantage of me, but how dare she dream of becoming my sister-in-law to steal half of my family's assets? That deluded pipe dream of hers will even make the marble statues in my family's garden roll their eyes.

I was a retired mercenary. A middle-aged man like me, without any ‘proper’ skills, could only work as a stockkeeper at a private company. On my first day at work, the warehouse lost an important item, and I was accused of stealing it. My new colleagues scoffed. "Hand over what you stole, you penniless loser! This warehouse hasn't lost anything for eight years. If you hand over the stolen item, we'll submit an appeal letter on your behalf when you get arrested by the police." I stepped forward to look at a mark left behind in the corner. "I can find what was stolen." The entire warehouse fell silent. When my boss arrived after hearing the news, he scrutinized me condescendingly. "If you can find the stolen item, I'll give you half of the company shares. If you fail, you'll have to pay with your life!"

At the annual company meeting, my wife, Rosalie Smith, claims that I've never made any contributions to the company, so she demands that I give up my position as the chief engineer and transfer all of my research findings to her first love, Harry West. Enraged by Rosalie's shamelessness, I quit my job on the spot before throwing the divorce agreement at Harry's face. "Working in this day and time is very difficult, you know! How about I just be more generous and let you take over my position as the CEO's husband instead?" For a moment, everyone swaps looks with each other, thinking that I'm merely jealous of Harry. But no one knows that I'm the one with the core technology of the company. No one can replicate it nor steal it from me. Without my core tech, the company's products are reduced to a bunch of useless codes. As for Rosalie, she will face massive debts and the crisis of her company going into bankruptcy.

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.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

My boss, Walton Frazier, loves tricking me into wearing tight shirts and having the top three buttons undone before forcing me to entertain the female clients. Then, he drops hints to said that I'm young and have a great physique, only to wait with bated breath for the clients to start touching me. His excuse is that he wants to test the clients' characters to see if they really are worthy to work with. As soon as the clients fall for the trap hook, line, and sinker, Walton will rush out toward them in a righteous manner and slam his wine glass onto the table. After that, he'll start lecturing me as though I've done something awfully wrong. "Is there not a prideful bone in your body? Do you want to hit your sales target that badly that you're willing to forsake your pride as a man?" Walton chooses to trample all over me just so he can build his manly and righteous persona. This time, he specifically prepares a suit with a deep V-line that's made of light material. Then, he forces me to toast to a client with an extremely rich and powerful background in that suit. He even threatens to dock off three months' worth of perfect attendance pay if I don't do this. When I notice the familiar cold-looking yet striking face at the main seat, I can't help but smile. If my older sister, Mable Cobb, were to see me toasting to her in this kind of outfit, I have a feeling she'll clean out the trash for me and make me the boss of this company by tomorrow.

My superior loved tricking me into wearing tight-fitting pencil skirts to serve wine to sleazy clients while sticking close to them. Then, she would hint that I was single and a valid target while she excitedly waited for the clients to make a move on me. It was all in the name of checking the integrity of the clients and whether they were worthy business partners or not. The moment a client fell for it, she would rush over with righteous anger and throw wine in their faces. Then, she would lecture me with a voice heavy with anguish. “Do you lack money so much that you’d throw your dignity away just for better results?” She would trample all over my dignity to set up her image as a refined, noble woman. This time, she even prepared a gown with a super low neckline and pushed me to serve a client with a rich and powerful background. She threatened me by saying that if I did not go, she would deduct my bonus for three whole months of full attendance. But when I saw the familiar, cold man sitting in the seat of honor, it was my turn to laugh. If my brother saw me serving wine in this kind of dress, I did not doubt that by tomorrow, the company would be under my name.

My boss, Patrick Hoffman, has made a bad investment that fails. When the board wants someone to be held accountable for the loss, he makes me the fall guy. Now that I've been fired from the company, I can no longer make my mortgage payments. My wife, Georgia Lowe, ends up falling seriously ill as well. In dire need of money, I ask Patrick for my severance pay. Sitting in his luxury car, he simply tosses me a few hundred dollars, saying, "You expect me to give you severance pay? I lost over a billion dollars because of you, Heath! How dare you ask me for money? "Here. Take these hundred-dollar bills and buy your wife a decent coffin!" My fists clench as I watch him drive off. Later that night, I drop a bombshell in a group chat filled with investors and business owners. "Seeking employment—bringing years of professional experience in cooking the books to the table. My former boss has nothing but praise for my abilities!"

An emergency has just occurred at the hotel. William Davis, the mayor's son, suffers from cardiac arrest in the hotel. Unfortunately, there's nothing the doctor in his team can do about it. I happen to be vacationing nearby, so I quickly rush toward the scene. As soon as I rush into the lobby, the security guards quickly stop me. "A life is being saved at the moment. Unauthorized personnel aren't allowed to enter." I'm about to dig out my work badge when Lydia Sharpe, the intern tagging along, suddenly covers her mouth and shouts daintily, "Don't let her in! There's a scalpel and a syringe of anesthetics in her bag!" Everyone is shocked by Lydia's revelation. The security guards instantly have me surrounded while wearing vigilant looks. Sweat starts rolling down my face out of anxiety. "I'm the head of the cardiothoracic surgery department of Central City Hospital! I've heard about the patient's condition! He must undergo a thoracotomy right away!" The next thing I know, Lydia has snatched my bag out of my hands. Things such as the sterilized gloves, defibrillator, as well as life-saving medication are scattered all over the floor. Lydia steps on the one and only life-saving pill instantly. "I just heard you claiming that it's best if the mayor's son dies right away! Why are you still pretending to be a savior? "Hurry up and arrest her! I suspect she has something to do with the ongoing case! She's definitely a murderer!" The person in charge's expression shifts drastically. Soon, he pins me on the wall. "Detain her and inform the security department right away! This woman is suspected of being involved in a murder!" As I stare at Lydia, I can't help but tremble violently. Right now, I'm the only one in the entire city who can perform the surgery on William. Unfortunately, he can only last for another half an hour in his current condition.

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.

To celebrate Halloween, our company booked an immersive “rural horror” escape room. My boss said whoever could make it to the end without screaming would get a ten-thousand-dollar reward. As a seasoned horror movie fan, I was instantly tempted. The core character in the escape room was a scarecrow wearing an oversized pumpkin head. I admired how well the props were made, but the chainsaw noise was too loud, so I slipped into a hidden compartment, put on my headphones, and scrolled through reels. The next day, I woke up to a strong metallic stench mixed with the sickly-sweet smell of rotting pumpkin. The police told me our boss had canceled the booking at the last minute, and the actor originally assigned to play the character had gotten food poisoning. That pumpkin-headed figure wasn’t one of their staff.

At the annual company banquet, the boss had the tables and chairs from the logistics department removed, leaving only a stainless steel dog bowl in the center of the stage. "Logistics is just the company's watchdog," he said coldly. "Since when do watchdogs sit at the table and eat?" The top sales champion laughed as he dumped leftovers into the bowl. The boss casually slipped a black garbage bag over my shoulders. "From now on, you're the company's living trash can. Catch it properly." Laughter erupted across the room. Amid the jeers, I silently tightened my grip on the universal access card in my hand. What they didn't know was that the building's special approvals for water and electricity—and all its property management connections—were maintained by this very "dog face" of mine. I tossed my ID badge into the dog bowl and turned to leave. Let's see how long you last once the new year passes—without logistics there to hold everything together.