Intern Reports Her Lazy Boss Chapter 2

Blair's grand "clean-up" operation started almost immediately.

First, the HR Admin approached me with an incredibly awkward expression. "Victoria, Mr. Lively is rolling out a strict new attendance policy. Everyone has to clock in and out using the app. So, regarding your schedule..."

I had been at this company for ten years and had never once clocked in. It was one of my unspoken privileges as the founder.

I looked at the stressed admin manager and nodded gently. "Alright. I understand."

The next day, HR called me into a private meeting.

"Victoria, a colleague reported that you spend company hours browsing websites unrelated to your current projects. It sets a bad precedent for the floor."

I glanced at the screenshot the HR rep slid across the desk. It was a photo of my monitor showing a high-end European architectural forum.

Browsing global design trends was a daily habit I had maintained for a decade to keep my inspiration fresh.

"Who reported this?" I asked flatly.

The HR rep stammered, avoiding my eyes. "We have a strict obligation to protect the anonymity of whistleblowers."

"Fine. I'll keep that in mind."

I didn't take it to heart. I assumed it was just petty, childish office politics.

But I vastly underestimated just how much Oliver was willing to indulge her.

A week later, a brand new "Employee Code of Conduct" was blasted to every inbox in the company. It was a massive, hundred-page document detailing exactly how folders should be arranged on desks, what kind of mugs were acceptable, and explicitly banning employees from resting their heads on their desks during lunch breaks.

At the very bottom of the document was Oliver Lively's digital signature.

The author of this ridiculous manifesto? Blair.

Oliver had shattered corporate protocol, promoting her straight from intern to Executive Assistant to the CEO.

Her workspace was moved from the crowded design floor into a sleek, private glass cubicle right outside Oliver's office.

From that day on, she patrolled the office like a prison warden, clutching a leather-bound notebook, documenting any "infractions" she spotted.

Brenda, a senior designer, took a brief phone call because her toddler had a fever. Blair wrote her up.

Arthur, our Design Director, ate a sandwich at his keyboard because he was rushing a deadline. Blair issued a company-wide reprimand.

The entire office was suffocating under a thick blanket of resentment and fear.

And I was her favorite target.

The first write-up was for a tiny potted succulent sitting next to my monitor.

"Victoria, the handbook explicitly states that personal items are forbidden in the workspace. It damages the sleek, professional image of the firm."

The second write-up was for using my personal Macbook to answer private emails.

"Victoria, company property is for company use only. If you need to handle personal business, please do so off the clock."

The third write-up was today.

My crimes were a glass of water, a small plate of saltine crackers, and the fact that I was holding my phone, reading a client's feedback on a recently completed project.

She stood over me, looking down like a judge preparing to deliver a death sentence.

"A three-thousand-dollar fine. Deducted straight from your paycheck this month. Do you have a problem with that?"

I looked up at her calmly. Slowly, I rotated my phone screen so she could see it.

It was a glowing letter of gratitude from a major client, explicitly praising the entire project team, including her, the intern.

"I am working," I said.

She glanced at the screen and scoffed. "Save the excuses. Everyone in this building knows you coast through the day and slack off on company time. Now you're openly insubordinate to your superiors. How exactly do you expect management to deal with you?"

I let out a dry, incredulous laugh. The sheer absurdity of it was almost entertaining.

I took my time standing up from my chair. The air in the design department seemed to freeze solid.

Every single person stopped typing, holding their breath, their ears straining to catch every word of our confrontation.

"Insubordinate to my superiors?" I repeated the phrase slowly, letting it hang in the air. My gaze drifted past her, sweeping across the entire crowded floor. "I have a quick question for everyone sitting here today. Which one of you is my superior?"