They Called Me the Freaking Rulebot
I was in the office bathroom stall when I heard them trash-talking me.
The intern I'd trained for three months whined, "She's a heartless witch—like a robot with zero brain cells."
I was about to swing the door open when another voice jumped in, laughing.
"Documents incomplete."
"Receipts don't match."
"No signature? Denied."
"Seriously, we've all memorized the freaking rulebot's script!"
Once they were gone, I headed back to my desk.
The intern stormed in and slammed a fat stack of reimbursement forms in front of me.
"Don't go on another power trip and block everyone's claims."
I skimmed the obviously fake receipts. Normally, I'd tear into her.
But this time, I just smiled.
"My head's killing me. Can't read the fine print."