When my younger brother announced his wedding, I requested two days off from work. My boss flatly denied my request. She sneered, “Why does your brother’s wedding matter to you? You’re not even dating anyone. Aren’t you embarrassed to attend?” Without another word, I logged into the system and submitted my leave request anyway. Her calls came flooding in soon after. “Who gave you permission to take time off?” “If you’re gone, who’s going to drive me to and from work tomorrow?” 0It was the end of the year—always a chaotic time at our branch, with everyone scrambling to meet their quotas. I had already hit mine early, so I figured asking for two days off for my brother’s wedding wouldn’t be a big deal. I approached my team leader, Julie Zhang, and politely made my request. I thought it’d be a simple matter, but she refused me without hesitation. “Why does your brother’s wedding matter to you? You’re not even married! Shouldn’t you be embarrassed to show up?” Julie has always been known for her sharp tongue and condescending attitude. Everyone on the team has dealt with it at some point. And sure, it was a busy time of year, with strict rules around taking time off. But her outright rejection felt personal. I took a deep breath, keeping my tone calm. “Julie, I’m his sister. I need to be there for him. I hope you can understand.” She glanced up from her phone, her expression darkening. “Do you even realize what quarter we’re in? This is the end of the year—the most critical time for our branch’s performance reviews! If everyone took time off like you, our entire team would be eating dirt next year. Can you handle that responsibility?” Sure, I could understand that taking leave during the busiest season wasn’t ideal. But wasn’t she being a little dramatic? What made it worse was that just the day before, she had approved our male colleague’s leave request without a second thought. “Why is it different for me?” I couldn’t help but ask. Julie scoffed, crossing her arms. “Are you seriously comparing yourself to him? He’s taking marriage leave. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event! If you want time off, wait until you get married.” Her words were ridiculous. My brother’s wedding wasn’t some excuse—it was a legitimate reason to take leave. No matter how I tried to reason with her, she wouldn’t budge. And to make things worse, she piled extra work onto me over the next few days, assigning me customer follow-ups that were supposed to be her responsibility. I knew she was being petty, but I didn’t bother arguing. Instead, I followed the proper channels. I informed both her and our department manager of my plans, then submitted my leave request through the system. In the meantime, I kept up with all my tasks, ensuring there was no room for complaints about my performance. By Wednesday evening, our manager had approved my request, and it was on its way to HR for final processing. After finishing my daily report and posting it in the team chat, I packed up and left for the highway. Before crossing the toll gate, I checked the group chat one last time to confirm no one was looking for me. Then, I switched my phone to airplane mode. The drive required my full attention, and I focused on the GPS as I made my way home. By the time I exited the freeway, it was nearly midnight. When I turned my phone back on, I was greeted by over twenty missed calls and dozens of unread messages. Julie had sent me countless voice notes, each around sixty seconds long. I didn’t even bother opening the first one. Whatever she had to say, I knew it wouldn’t be good. Instead, I tucked my phone into my bag, stopped by a local diner, and treated myself to a warm bowl of noodle soup. When I finally got home, my phone buzzed with yet another incoming call. “Emma, what were you doing? Why didn’t you wait for me after work?” Julie’s voice was sharp and accusatory. I replied matter-of-factly, “Julie, I told you earlier this week—I’m attending a wedding this weekend.” That sent her into a full-blown tirade. “Who gave you permission to take leave?” “If you’re gone, who’s going to drive me to work tomorrow?” “Do you even want to get promoted? Where do you get the audacity to ignore your superior’s instructions?!” 0
Her barrage of yelling left me momentarily stunned. That’s when I remembered—Julie had been hitching rides in my car to and from work for almost six months now. We lived in the same neighborhood, and about a week after I started at the company, I realized my direct supervisor lived just across the hall. Out of politeness, I offered her a ride one morning. I didn’t think much of it at the time—but from that day on, she latched onto me like I was her personal driver. I’ve never been one to make a fuss, so I let it slide. After all, she was my boss, and it wasn’t exactly out of my way. But now, hearing her demand that I cancel my leave and prioritize her commute? It was like she genuinely believed I existed just to chauffeur her around. My dad, who had been sitting nearby, noticed my darkening expression and opened his mouth to speak. I quickly shot him a look, silently telling him to hold back. Instead, I grabbed my phone, took a screenshot of my approved leave request, and sent it to Julie with a calm message: “Julie, I’m not skipping work. My leave was approved by Mr. Reed. You can check the system if you don’t believe me.” Her reply came almost immediately, and it was just as aggressive as before. “Don’t try to pull rank on me with Mr. Reed. I’m your direct supervisor, and you report to me! I’ll say it one more time—get your ass back here now. This is your only chance.” “And tomorrow morning, at 8:30 sharp, I better see your car waiting for me. Do you understand?” Her entitlement was so absurd, I actually laughed. What a power trip. I took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to remind myself to stay calm. After all, I’d worked hard for over a year, and permanent employment was just within reach. A little patience now wouldn’t kill me. I forced myself to respond politely. “Julie, I’m sorry, but my car’s being used as the wedding car this weekend. I really can’t bring it back.” “You might need to grab a cab for the next two days. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Our neighborhood is well-connected, and it’s easy to hail a ride. Plus, the company provides a monthly transportation stipend for city commutes. It wasn’t like I was asking for the moon and stars. But my calm tone only seemed to fuel her rage. “What do you mean, I should take a cab?!” she snapped. “Emma, don’t let your little achievements go to your head. Do you even know your place?” “Let me make this clear—if I don’t approve your leave, you don’t get to take it. I don’t care if someone in your family died! You don’t just waltz out of here whenever you feel like it!” “And if you’re not back tomorrow, don’t bother showing up again. Just pack up your things and leave.” Her voice practically exploded through the phone, every word sharp and cutting. Does she think I’m some pushover? Even the most patient person has their limits, and mine had just been crossed. I was about to shoot back a response when, suddenly, she hung up. And then she blocked me. Blocked. Me. I stared at my phone in disbelief, anger simmering in my chest. My dad, who had been trying to remain calm, finally lost it. His thick eyebrows knitted together as he fumed. “Didn’t your mom say your boss was supposed to be a decent person? Listen to the way she talks! How could anyone treat their employee like this?” “And to think I let Old Xu help with their sales targets. She repays us by cursing at my daughter?” I gave him a wry smile and shrugged. “Guess you never really know someone. She seemed nice enough at first.” It was true. When I first started, Julie had been charming and approachable. But somewhere along the way, her true colors had come out. The more leniency I gave her, the more she pushed, taking advantage of my kindness. My dad grumbled under his breath and then asked, “Do you want me to help you find another job? You don’t have to put up with this.” I quickly shook my head. This was my mess to deal with. I’d let her walk all over me, and now I was paying the price. It was time to grow up. I couldn’t rely on my dad to fix all my problems forever. If I wanted to make it in this world, I’d have to learn how to stand my ground. 0
Over the next few days, Julie didn’t bother me again. It felt like the calm before the storm, and although I was uneasy, I managed to attend my brother’s wedding without further interruptions. On Monday morning, I returned to the office carrying a few bags of local treats for my colleagues. But something felt off. People who were usually warm and friendly with me now greeted me with strained smiles and avoided eye contact. One of my former classmates, now a colleague, pulled me aside into the stairwell. Once she made sure no one else was around, she leaned in and whispered, “Emma, I heard HR is planning to let you go after your probation ends. What’s going on?” Her concern was genuine, but her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What? Why? I’ve been performing well—my metrics are some of the best on the team,” I said, bewildered. She sighed. “I don’t know the details, but word is spreading. You might want to brace yourself for the meeting.” I thanked her and returned to my desk, pretending like nothing had happened. It didn’t take long for my suspicions to be confirmed. As soon as our morning team meeting wrapped up, Julie called me out in front of everyone. “Emma,” she began, her tone sharp and authoritative, “you took two days off without my approval, which is a blatant violation of company policy.” I stood my ground, trying to keep my voice steady. “Julie, my leave was approved through the proper channels. It’s all documented in the system.” Her face darkened. “I don’t care what the system says. If I didn’t approve it, it doesn’t count! I’M your supervisor. My word is final.” “And since you’ve shown no remorse for your actions, there’s no need to discuss your permanent position anymore. Pack your things and leave.” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Julie, if the system bypassed your approval, that’s an issue HR and IT need to address. It’s not something within my control.” The tension in the room was palpable. My coworkers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to react. One of the younger women tugged at my sleeve, silently pleading with me to back down. But I was done staying quiet. If Julie wasn’t going to show me respect, I had no reason to give her any either. Her anger boiled over as she slammed her hand on the table. “Don’t try to argue with me. If you have a problem, take it up with HR!” Before leaving, she turned to the rest of the team and delivered a pointed warning: “Let this be a lesson to all of you. Follow the rules, and don’t defy your superiors. Work hard now, and you’ll all get your promotions and raises next year.” Her words were empty promises—just more lies to keep people in line. She’d used the same tactic on me when I first joined the team, promising recognition that never came. Not long after, I got a message from HR’s representative, Lisa Wu, asking me to meet her in the conference room. When I walked in, Lisa started with some polite small talk before cutting to the chase. “Emma, I’ll be honest. You’ve done a decent job these past six months, but you’ve made some serious mistakes.” “Work isn’t just about hitting your targets. Building good relationships with your superiors is critical—especially with your direct manager.” “By taking leave without Julie’s approval, you’ve shown a lack of respect for her authority. And then, to make matters worse, you took her car for a personal event, forcing her to take public transportation.” For a moment, I was too stunned to respond. “Julie’s car?” I repeated, incredulous. She nodded, her tone turning accusatory. “Yes, Julie told us you’ve been borrowing her car for months. And then you even used it as a wedding car. That’s highly inappropriate, Emma.” It all clicked. Julie was spreading lies, claiming my new BMW was hers. No wonder she always made a show of calling me to fetch the car in front of our colleagues. She’d been laying the groundwork for this narrative all along. 0
I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of anger. Enough was enough. Without another word, I stood up, grabbed Lisa by the arm, and marched straight to Julie’s desk. Julie glanced up lazily, her expression indifferent. “I already told you—if you have a problem, take it up with HR. I’m busy.” I smiled coldly. “Oh, this involves you, Julie. We’re going to clear the air right now.” Her composure faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “Say what you need to say.” I turned to face our team, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Julie, I thought we were neighbors. I didn’t mind giving you rides because it was convenient, and you were my boss. I was trying to be polite.” “But for the past six months, you’ve treated me like your personal chauffeur, calling me at all hours and ordering me around. I let it slide because I didn’t want to make waves.” “But now you’re telling people my car is yours? How does that make any sense?” The room fell silent. My teammates stared, wide-eyed, while Julie’s face turned an alarming shade of red. Before she could respond, Lisa spoke up, trying to regain control of the situation. “Emma, that’s a serious accusation. You’re still just an intern. Do you really expect us to believe you can afford a car like that?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Why not? Does buying a car require permission from my title or age?” Julie coughed awkwardly, cutting Lisa off. She patted Lisa’s shoulder, feigning concern. “It’s fine, Lisa. Let’s not be too hard on her. The car is hers. I just didn’t correct people’s assumptions because I didn’t want Emma to face unnecessary scrutiny.” Her words were laced with fake pity, but I saw the smug glint in her eyes. She thought she’d outmaneuvered me. “After all,” she continued, “a young woman driving a luxury car… people might get the wrong idea. I didn’t want anyone accusing her of, say, being a—well, you know.” Her insinuation was clear, and it worked like a charm. Lisa’s expression shifted into one of disapproval. “I knew it,” Lisa muttered. “Emma’s family didn’t seem wealthy. I saw her dad in sandals at the branch once—doesn’t exactly scream ‘BMW owner.’” Julie smirked, satisfied as the gossip shifted away from her and onto me. 0
It felt like my stomach was on fire, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm. This was outright slander. Julie and Lisa were throwing baseless accusations at me, smearing my reputation with their lies. Anyone with less resolve might’ve broken down by now, sobbing as they packed up their desk and walked out the door. And seriously, who says you have to wear designer clothes to be wealthy? My dad—who spends his days in flip-flops and a tank top—is a low-key real estate mogul. If he ever found out someone had dismissed him as a nobody, he’d probably be so mad he’d cough up blood. But I wasn’t going to let them get away with this. Turning to Lisa, I let out a cold laugh. “What’s wrong, Lisa? Did Julie’s words replace whatever critical thinking skills you had? Whatever she says, you just blindly agree?” Everyone in the office knew Julie had a distant relative in corporate, which meant most people gave her a wide berth or went out of their way to stay on her good side. But Lisa was HR—her blatant bias was downright embarrassing. “You’re supposed to be HR,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Aren’t you supposed to think independently? Or are you just here to parrot Julie’s every word?” “And let’s be real for a second—whether I stay or leave isn’t up to either of you. That decision rests with Mr. Reed, not you two.” Lisa’s face turned beet red, and she stammered as she tried to come up with a response. Julie, meanwhile, looked like she was seconds away from exploding. Her eyes burned with anger, and her brow was so tightly furrowed I thought it might stay that way forever. “Emma,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom, “after everything I’ve done to mentor you, this is how you repay me?” “I’m your direct supervisor. If I say you’re out, you’re out!” I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Mentor me? What a joke. I’d spent half a year as her unpaid chauffeur, bending over backward to accommodate her ridiculous demands. And now, instead of gratitude, she was paying me back with lies and insults. Before I could respond, the sound of a door opening cut through the tension. Mr. Reed, our department director, stepped out of his office. His expression was stern as he scanned the room. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice sharp. “This is an office, not a playground. If you’re not working, then what are you doing?” He turned his focus to Julie. “Come to my office. Now.” Julie shot me a venomous glare before following him inside, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. God only knows what kind of story she was about to spin in there. As I watched her disappear into the office, one of my coworkers—a former classmate—passed by with a water bottle in hand. She gave me a quick thumbs-up, clearly amused by the scene. I scratched my head awkwardly, letting out a dry laugh. Sure, maybe my approach wasn’t the most professional, but at some point, you’ve got to stand up for yourself. Still, I knew that things couldn’t go back to normal. Staying on Julie’s team after this would be a nightmare. As I mulled over my options, my phone buzzed. The caller ID showed it was Mr. Mitchell, one of my dad’s longtime business partners. I stepped into the stairwell to answer the call. “Emma,” Mr. Mitchell began, “just wanted to let you know—Julie’s been on my case again. She’s pushing me to deposit more money into your branch and trying to sell me a bunch of insurance policies.” I rolled my eyes. Julie was relentless, squeezing every client for all they were worth without any regard for their circumstances. An idea suddenly clicked in my mind. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Mitchell,” I said, my voice apologetic. He chuckled. “It’s not your fault, but honestly, it’s the end of the year, and I’ve got tight cash flow. I don’t think I can swing it.” “That’s okay,” I said, my tone light. “Go ahead and have your accountant withdraw the funds. Just do what works best for you.”
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