Chapter 3: The Mockery Revealed
As I left the boss’s office, HR manager Rachel Parker happened to be going in. She saw me and looked uneasy. She probably guessed why I was there. I lingered outside the door for a moment.
"…It was my mistake, boss, I’m sorry…"
"She dares to ask for a raise? Does she even understand how comp works? It’s not just about how long you’ve been here."
"And speaking of which, Jason’s overtime has dropped in the last six months. Maybe he’s had issues with the company for a while…"
Hearing this, my fists clenched. Is Rachel blind?
A few years ago, my workload was huge. I worked overtime like crazy—others did 60-hour weeks, I did 80. This year, as the company expanded, a lot of the easier, non-content tasks were reassigned from me. Plus, my health took a hit, so I couldn’t push myself as hard. Even so, I still work more hours than most.
"Boss, what if he really leaves?"
"Then let him go. Does he really think the company can’t do without him? At worst, I’ll just spend a little more to hire new people. Newcomers are sharp—not like the old dead weight."
Fine, fine, fine. So all that about wanting to keep me was just about saving labor costs. I gave my all to the company, but the company never cared about me. Joke’s on me.
Passing by Emily’s desk, she wasn’t there. On a whim, I glanced at her screen. A new message popped up: “Hahahahahaha omg. You mean, as long as you play dumb, your supervisor who doesn’t even make $1,200 does your work for you every day? That’s really flipping the script.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Then, a strange calm washed over me—like the punchline of a joke everyone else got but me. My face burned, and I gripped the back of her cheap office chair until my knuckles popped. The chatter and hum of the open floor suddenly felt a hundred miles away. All this time, I’d been defending her, standing up for her work ethic, only to find out she’d been laughing at me with her friends behind my back. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling me I’d stayed loyal to the wrong people. I let out a slow breath, the weight of six years pressing on my chest.










