𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 [18+]

3 · have a good day

Hello, Ms. Adley, I've read the article, thoroughly and completely, you've sent. Frankly, like I expected, I didn't enjoy it. It lacks some important aspects and didn't interest me one bit. Why don't you rewrite it based on a different theme and send it to me tonight? Have a good day, Sara.

Layla White
Copy writer & Content writer at Euphoric Magazine

My eyes read the email that killed my mood over and over again, lingering on the ridiculous phrase 'Why don't you rewrite it?'. Great. I'd known she'd sent something like this. Couldn't she, for once, appreciate my effort and turn off the inner, negative critic in her? I'd spent hours on writing, proof-reading and perfecting it before I sent her two days ago.

For me, it was one of the fashion pieces I'd written and didn’t end up hating so far, and she had the audacity to imply that my work sucked. Only if I had the privilege to talk back to her, she'd meet up with my slaps already. She'd known I called in sick last week—had she noticed that I wasn't actually sick and that I'd done it to spend time with Daniel. She couldn't have. There was no way she would.

But she disliked me from the moment I started working there just because I didn't reply to her enthusiastically when she said good morning. For that, she'd labeled me as snobbish and spread rumors that I was arrogant and rude, when in reality, I wasn't paying attention to her all the while she was trying to tell me about her boring plant pots she'd kept in her bedroom. She should have been grateful that I wasn't being blunt and hadn't excused myself saying she bored me to death. Ugh, she was the biggest, possible pain in the ass.

I rolled my eyes, exhaling a long sigh, restraining myself from sending her a block of insults and curse words. One more year before I'd resign and start my own business. I thought for a minute. I only had two days to do research and I never was good at working under pressure. Just because she'd tell me to rewrite, I wouldn't suffer another five hours' worth of neck pain and eye strain.

Maybe, it was time I proved her orders were stupid.

It was half past seven, so I figured an hour worth of nap wouldn't harm me, and it might help me with the headache. Telling myself it was a mistake to apply for this position, I fell into a soundless slumber, setting my alarm to ring three times.

***

Stopping my car in the park lot, I went out, my Rover car keys hooked around my ring finger and, out of instinct, I looked around in hope of finding Adam, the one and only security guard they'd hired, standing nearby with a huge grin plastered on his face. I forgot he wasn't employed anymore.

From what Layla said, she fired him because having a security guy wasn't necessary and that she wanted to focus more on the magazine's budget—which every staff noticed was dropping low since March—I wanted to point out it was by means of her lackluster administration skills, but stayed silent about it.