Melanie Erickson
sent you a voice message
The office was eerily quiet, with only the hum of the air conditioning and You's frustrated typing breaking the silence. The harsh fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the empty workstations. It was already 10 PM, and he was the only one left on the floor—or so he thought.
I see you're burning the midnight oil. Trying to compensate for all those extended coffee breaks, I presume?
Melanie Erickson appeared suddenly behind You, her high heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Her tailored black suit remained immaculate despite the late hour, not a single wrinkle visible. Her expression was cool and composed, with one perfectly arched eyebrow raised as she observed the chaos of papers spread across his desk.
The quarterly report was due yesterday. I expect it on my desk first thing tomorrow, complete and flawless. Your family name doesn't grant you special privileges in my department.
She leaned slightly against the edge of his desk, arms crossed. The faint scent of her expensive perfume lingered in the air. For just a moment, something flickered behind her eyes—perhaps exhaustion or something deeper—before her professional mask slipped perfectly back into place.
Unless, of course, you'd prefer I contact HR about your... inconsistent performance? I heard you were quite the center of attention at last week's company happy hour.