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墨書 Inktalez
The elevator doors opened with a soft "ding," and the man stepped out onto his floor, his gait steady and exuding an undeniable presence. This was his domain, every inch of the workspace under his control. As a supervisor, his very existence felt like an invisible pressure, gradually expanding in the air with each step he took.
As he walked through the area, employees from various departments paused their work to bow slightly and nod in respect, their demeanor cautious yet reverent. "Good morning, Supervisor," someone greeted softly, their tone laced with a mix of caution and anticipation. The man's expression remained calm and unruffled; he simply nodded or responded with a low "mm," striking the perfect balance between aloofness and familiarity that a supervisor should maintain.
He passed several rows of desks, his gaze sweeping over every corner like a precise scanner, quickly capturing all details. Not far away, a few new young employees huddled together, whispering and laughing. Although documents and keyboards cluttered their desks, their attention had long since strayed from work. As the sound of his footsteps approached, they instantly straightened up as if jolted by electricity, hands flying over keyboards as they pretended to be busy, beads of sweat forming on their foreheads.
The man's brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing more, continuing on toward his office. Inside, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly, thinking to himself, "These people... they have no ambition at all; they're wasting this opportunity." He remembered when he first entered the industry, pouring every ounce of effort into everything he did—how could he afford to be distracted back then? But what about today's youth? Short-sighted and fickle-minded, it seemed they only wanted to coast through each day without any desire to strive for higher positions.
Shaking his head involuntarily at this thought, he maintained his steady pace toward the supervisor's office deep within the workspace. The glass outside the office reflected his figure—his upright posture and calm expression radiating authority and inviolability. He understood that these individuals might not yet grasp his expectations, but that was part of his job—not just managing business but also nurturing these inexperienced "newbies" to understand the rules of the workplace and its true value.
Finally, he pushed open the office door and sat down heavily. The chair reclined slightly backward as if yielding to soothe his weary body. Leaning back against it, he let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling as he felt the weight on his body finally lift from his legs; this brief moment of relaxation felt almost indulgent.
Before he could fully collect himself, there was a gentle knock on the door. "Come in," he replied in a low voice tinged with a hint of weariness. The middle-aged Female Secretary entered, holding a cup of steaming warm water. "Supervisor, I brought you some water," she said steadily, her tone imbued with unspoken care. He nodded slightly and took the cup from her hand; the warmth of the ceramic felt like a rare comfort against his fingertips. Without hesitation, he tilted his head back and drank deeply; the warm liquid slid down his throat, easing the tension and dryness that had built up throughout the morning.
After finishing the water, he placed the cup on the desk and frowned slightly while pressing gently on his lower back; a familiar dull ache crept back into focus. "Please get me a cushion; my back is acting up again," he said with a hint of resignation that revealed an underlying fatigue. The Female Secretary paused for a moment before nodding softly in response. "Alright, I'll get it right away." She turned and exited with steady steps.
Before long, she returned with a gray cushion in hand. She approached him quietly from behind and carefully placed it against his lower back with practiced ease, mindful not to cause him any discomfort. "Is this better?" she asked softly. He adjusted himself against the cushion and felt some relief from the pressure; nodding slightly, he replied, "Yes, much better. Thank you."
Seeing this, she smiled gently and said quietly, "I'll step out now; call me if you need anything." With that, she exited quietly, closing the door almost soundlessly behind her.
Left alone in the office, he closed his eyes briefly to savor the diminishing pain in his back; for a moment, peace washed over him. However, he knew this relaxation would not last long—the stack of documents on his desk reminded him that this was merely a brief respite. With that thought in mind, he slowly opened his eyes and took a deep breath in preparation for the hard battles ahead.
The conference room was charged with tension; voices rose one after another like waves in an invisible war breaking out within this confined space. Papers lay scattered across the table while data charts projected on the screen were all but ignored—mere background noise to an escalating conflict. Supervisors from various departments were flushed with anger as they squabbled like fighting roosters; every word was sharp as if they were not merely vying for resources but attempting to tear apart each other's positions entirely.
"We generated the highest sales for the company last year, so why are our budgets being cut?" a Bald Middle-Aged Manager slammed his hand on the table, veins bulging on his forehead, his voice reverberating throughout the conference room. Before he could finish, a cold voice interjected, "Highest sales? Don't kid yourself! Behind your sales figures are countless customer complaints that we in the After-Sales Department have to clean up! What makes you think you deserve more funding?"
The bald manager's face turned crimson, and before he could retort, a newly promoted Young Supervisor chimed in. Though his tone was restrained, it was clear he was unconvinced. "Everyone knows the company's future focus is Digital Transformation. We should be investing more resources in our area instead of pouring money into outdated operations!" As soon as he spoke, the conference room erupted.
The man turned sharply towards the Young Supervisor, his gaze sharp as a knife. "Digital Transformation? Sounds nice, but the problem is you can't even produce decent results. All you do is shout slogans. What are your people actually doing? Just because you can make a good PowerPoint doesn't mean you deserve resources!" His voice carried an oppressive weight that momentarily stalled the Young Supervisor's confidence.
Nearby, a Foreign Parachute Supervisor joined the fray with halting local language skills. "I believe our market strategy should focus more on a Global Perspective rather than—" Before he could finish, he was cut off by a derisive laugh from the man. "Global Perspective? Nice words, but your entire quarterly budget went to travel and meetings. Which data shows your strategy is effective? Bring some actual results before you speak!"
As tensions escalated, a sharp and sarcastic voice piped up from a corner of the room. "While you all argue back and forth, who can guarantee that we will meet this quarter's goals? Resources are limited; can any of you spare me some?" An older woman spoke with a piercing tone, her disdainful gaze sweeping over everyone as she attempted to take control of the situation.
The man immediately shifted his attention to her, his tone dripping with impatience. "Meeting goals? Are you really bringing up last quarter's progress report? All you do is shift blame; what does your department do besides fight for resources?" His voice struck like a hammer, momentarily freezing her expression before she defiantly began to retort.
This meeting had clearly transformed into more than just a discussion of business matters. Each person seemed to be venting their pent-up frustrations under the guise of arguing over budgets and resources—expressing dissatisfaction with colleagues, pressure from superiors, and setbacks at work. Although the man knew this argument would likely yield no results, he still engaged because he understood that in this environment, being loud and assertive was essential to avoid being seen as an easy target and to carve out some space for his department's survival.
The entire conference room felt like an impending volcano ready to erupt, each individual igniting sparks in their own way while the man's voice flowed like molten lava from the crater, pushing the situation toward an even more intense climax.
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