Hell no. The last time you offered an “innovative” idea, you spent literally weeks working in your boss’s ridiculous edits only to have him decide, days before the deadline, that you should “go with what you know” and do it the old, guaranteed-to-fail way.

Better to be the shitty employee than one step closer to suiciding in the break room.

“I’d love to,” you say, “but I just don’t have the bandwidth right now to give it the kind of attention it deserves.” Your boss smirks at you knowingly. You hope this doesn’t mean you’ll have to produce any work in the next few days in order to prove you weren’t lying. That would be the worst of Sophie’s Choices.

“I’d be happy to give it a go.” Fucking Johnson decides this in the moment to speak up? Seriously, Johnson’s only goal in life is probably to make you look shitty.

“Great!” Your boss smiles widely. Near-genuinely. “I, uh-uh-uh, look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

*    *    *    *    *

“And also, um, I think we could try some viral videos,” Johnson finishes, sitting down unceremoniously, forehead covered in sweat.

Even you know that was a terrible presentation. Johnson could barely string together a complete sentence, let alone a coherent idea. It’s the kind of half-assed stuff you would come up with. But you didn’t, so you feel nothing but glee at the obvious failure.

“I must say,” your boss begins. He’s frowning. This is going to be so. Awesome.

“I, uh-uh-uh, really didn’t expect this from you. It’s…”

Here it comes…

“…frankly brilliant. Bold. Uh-uh-uh. Innovative. The kind of thinking we need around here.”

The FUCK?

“I’m so impressed, in fact, that I’m going to pull the trigger on something we’ve had in the works for a while. Johnson, I’d like to congratulate you on your promotion to Head of Strategic Development. This presentation proves you’re more than ready for the role.”

The role? That isn’t even a real position–he’s making it up right now!

Gritting your teeth, you pretend to smile, shaking Johnson’s hand as though you feel anything other than pure, blinding hatred.

THE END

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