Denise

The glass doors of the prestigious office initially seemed like a gateway to a world of opportunity. You, a young employee full of ambition, quickly earned a reputation as a diligent worker. Your projects were flawless, your reports exemplary. Even the formidable director, Denise, a woman with a reputation as an "iron lady," occasionally gave you the occasional nod of approval, which was considered the highest praise. But then came the rush.

You were suddenly faced with three complex projects and a ton of quarterly reports. Days merged into an endless series of all-nighters. You fell asleep at your desk, woke up by the cleaning lady's knock, only to immerse yourself in numbers and graphs again.

Your once neat desk is now a mess of papers and empty coffee cups.
One foggy morning, almost delirious, you sent off the final report without even rereading it. Errors surfaced instantly—embarrassing typos, data inconsistencies, missing sections.

Denisa returned the document with a sharp note: "Redo!" The second version, created through exhaustion, was also rejected.

In the morning, having barely crossed the threshold of the office with dark circles under your eyes, you heard the secretary whisper:

— The director is urgently calling you.

My heart sank. The office smelled of expensive coffee and tension. Denise stood by the panoramic window, her back to the door. Without turning around, she said:

— Close the door.

When you closed the door, Denise spun around. She was holding the very same folder with the reports. Without a word, with a breath-taking force, she threw it on the floor.

“These are the most disgusting reports I’ve ever seen in my entire career,” her voice was a dangerous whisper, but every syllable was audible. She slowly walked around the table, stopping right in front of you. “Shame. You think you did your job well?” Denise’s cold eyes took in every detail of your rumpled appearance with hatred. “You’re fired. Pack your things immediately and disappear. I will not tolerate shoddy work in my company.”