“But closing this and splitting it into a separate project gives us more time, more focus,” they explained.

He shook his head, frustrated. “Why does it matter?”

“IT MATTERS,” they said, voice firm.

“Yes, ma'am,” the driver replied, adjusting the mirror. “Wherever you need to go.”

“And... what will you do when I’m not in the car?” she asked, puzzled.

“I’ll wait for you,” the driver said simply.

She blinked. “Wait for me? Like, just sit here and do nothing?”

“Yes, ma'am. That’s my job.”

“Okay, that’s too much,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “I can't take it. Go somewhere, do something.”

He laughed, “Probation review? I thought that was just a formality.”

His manager raised an eyebrow. “It’s to see if you’re a good fit.”

“Bro, I’m not leaving,” he said, half-joking.

The manager smiled. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, seriously, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” another added.

He blinked, confused. “But I’m just doing my job.”

“Exactly,” they groaned in unison. “You’re doing too much of it.”

He stared, “But... it's an expected discretionary bonus.”

"Can you unexpect it?"

"No chance in hell."

“So, what if we launch our next product… into space?” someone suggested, barely keeping a straight face.

“Wow, I love it.”

Confidence growing, they continued, “Ooh, and we crash it back onto Earth as a meteor, then ‘discover’ it in a dig site, claiming it’s alien technology we’ve reverse-engineered.”

"APPROVED!"

His phone buzzed again, flashing with bright images, colorful notifications, and catchy sounds. “Look at me! I’ve got everything—memes, videos, likes!"

The book sighed, its pages limp. “Ugh, whatever. I can’t compete with that. Just go.”

“Isn’t it great?” the new joiner beamed, loading up their plate.

The old-timer sighed deeply, as if the world had ended. “My day is ruined.”

“Over a free lunch?” the new joiner asked, surprised.

The old-timer looked up, eyes filled with disappointment. “You wouldn’t understand.”

"What offsite?" one of them blinked, confused.

"You know, the company retreat," he continued, trying to sound nonchalant.

They exchanged glances. "We didn’t get any invitation."

He slowly backed away, hands up. "I didn’t say anything."

But there is no hoodie.

I asked HR, thinking maybe they’d forgotten. They just said, "Oh, we don’t do company swag here."

I mean, what's the point of a dream job if you can’t wear a hoodie to brag about it?

"Actually, we use a hot desk system."

"But I always sit here."

"I booked it for today."

"THAT IS MY DESK! BE GONE, YOU DESK USURPER!"

"I don't know. It just doesn't have a vibe."

"What's a vibe?"

"I don't know. It's a single word of copy."

"It says 'Send.' What’s there to vibe?"

"I'll know it when I see it."

His colleague, the one he always looked up to, suggested, "But what if we did it this way instead?"

"You’re right," he said reverently. "Of course, you’re right." He was all in, as if his previous certainty had never existed.

The other nodded, shuffling the deck. “Sure, just 15 more.”

The night dragged on, fortunes flipping, neither one letting go.

When one lost, the other simply said, “15 more minutes,” until it was impossible to tell who was winning, or if it even mattered anymore.

“Go? Now? It’s only 9:30!” they exclaimed.

“No can do,” he said, eyes wide with urgency. “If I’m not asleep by 10:02, my REM cycle will be thrown off, and then my whole week is shot.”

They stared, baffled. “What about fun? Spontaneity?”

He froze, genuinely horrified. “Spontaneity? I’ll have time for that—between 9:00 and 9:30 PM tomorrow.”