Funny Work Stories Novels & Stories

The next day, I didn't go back to work. Instead, I hired the pack's legal counsel and had them send a formal demand letter. Less than thirty minutes after it was delivered, Evander called. "Mirabel, what is this supposed to mean? "The company was simply trying to let a coworker share in your family's joy, and now you're turning around and biting the hand that fed you?" I snorted. "Share in our joy? "You call breaking into Ronan's bedroom through a window, drugging him, and staging a fake assault good intentions?"

I slipped on my panties hastily, shaking my shoulders as though shaking off that depressing day. In a bid to break the terse silence, I asked him, “What do you do for work?” He hummed, now sitting with his back against the headboard while using his toes to poke my bum. I swatted them away several times but he kept doing it, so I just gave them a rest. It was a turn-on as well. “Uh…I work at a Macdonald's shop downtown.” I raised a brow and his smirk grew, against his will. “You’re lying.”

“You don’t like cranberry sauce?” “No. It’s disgusting.” “All right, this confirms it. There must have been a mix-up in the hospital because you are definitely not my daughter.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Keep trying, Dad. Maybe one day you’ll come up with a joke that’s funny.” “People at work like my jokes.” I grinned. “You pay the people at work.” “Lanie likes my jokes.” “Yeah, I’m not going there.” She put a big forkful of food in her mouth and chewed away.

And I can't be less proud of her. The rest of our dinner time is filled with us eating together and my mum and I laughing at Cathy's hilarious jokes and stories, particularly at the story she told us of how she had to throw bagel bread at an annoying colleague of hers so that she can grab his attention to work. I really tried so hard not to picture the scenerio in my head, but I just could not stop myself from laughing at the imagination. Thank God I had already swallowed my food before then.

“Though I once tried cooking for my staff and nearly burned down the test kitchen. True story.” I laughed out loud. The joke was so simple, but the way he told it, with that playful sparkle in his eyes, actually made it funny. “You? Burning down a kitchen? I can’t picture it.” We kept talking as the food came. He answered every question patiently ... about his childhood, his craziest business deal, even what he does when he’s not working. He told another joke about getting lost in his own building on the first day as CEO, and I found myself laughing again, genuinely enjoying his company.

"You have no idea–I was just joking around, but those disgusting guys went crazy asking me for your contact." The old me would have already been crying, asking her how she could do this to me, voice breaking. Not this me. My teeth clenched so hard they hurt. My whole body trembled with anger. I snatched the flyer out of her hand and slapped her across the face. Tara screamed, clutching her cheek in disbelief. "You hit me? I treat you like my best friend, and you can't even take a joke anymore?" Best friend? I let out a cold laugh.

For the next few minutes, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. They told me funny stories about things that had happened around the house, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I actually laughed. Their stories were filled with small, humorous mishaps—like the time the gardener accidentally watered Mr. Dela Cruz's shoes or when a squirrel ran into the kitchen, causing panic among the staff. Their lively chatter made me forget, even if just for a little while, about all the chaos happening around me. It was like a brief escape, a reminder that life could still have moments of joy, even in the middle of a storm.

But I couldn’t afford to lose focus now. I let out a soft, controlled laugh, shaking my head as if amused rather than enraged. “That’s interesting,” I said, my voice smooth. “Zane’s always had a flair for storytelling. But let’s talk about facts. My company already has its workers on standby and also the building is almost done. Why would people agree to work there if I appeared to be a failure, Mr. Grayson?”

“I . . . like to read. When I was in Paris I loved to dance, but I haven’t had much chance to do that in a year. And I do yoga.” “Yoga? I heard it was very relaxing. Is that true?” “It is.” “What do you do for fun?” Lacey asked. Brian laughed – hard. She was a bit confused by his reaction. What was so funny about her question? “I’m sorry, Lacey,” he said with a smile. “Being in my line of work and . . . having to have a certain personality to do my line of work I don’t really have fun.” “Everyone has a little fun here or there no matter what profession they are in. Or is work fun to you like art is to me?”

Once I was suspended, my situation in the office only got worse. Workplace culture had always been about sucking up to the powerful and trampling on the weak. Those male colleagues who had laughed along with Vanessa became even more brazen, piling on relentlessly. "Hey, Macy, take this report and shred it." "Macy, go downstairs and pick up my package for me. Oh, and bring me back a coffee too—one sugar, no ice." I used to be the department's top sales performer. Now, I'd been reduced to everyone's errand runner.