Blurb：
After being publicly humiliated by factory director Mr. Sterling for arriving two minutes late, engineer Avery Hayes loses her entire $10,000 year-end bonus. Instead of protesting, she begins a quiet rebellion - arriving exactly on time and leaving immediately when her shift ends. This office revenge story follows Avery's calculated response to workplace injustice, set against the backdrop of Assembly Line 3 where hundreds of workers witness the power struggle. The narrative explores themes of corporate discipline, silent resistance, and the dynamics between technical department professionals like Mark and authoritarian managers like Mr. Sterling. As Avery signs the disciplinary notice without complaint, readers are left wondering what form her revenge will take in this compelling workplace drama.Content：
I was two minutes late and had my entire year-end bonus, a whopping ten thousand dollars, docked.
Mr. Sterling, the factory director, made an example of me at a company-wide meeting, declaring it a stark warning to everyone else.
I didn't argue, didn't make a scene. I just quietly accepted it.
From that day on, I clocked in at the very last second, and the moment the dismissal bell rang, my computer was off, and I was out the door.
01
The March wind still carried a biting chill, howling through the bare branches of the trees around the factory, a desolate sound.
Inside Assembly Line 3, however, it was eerily silent.
All the machines had stopped, the usual deafening roar replaced by the collective breathing of hundreds of people.
I, Avery Hayes, stood right in the center.
Everyone’s gaze, like searchlights, converged on me—pity, schadenfreude, fear, and undisguised curiosity.
On the high platform, the newly appointed factory director, Mr. Sterling, held a microphone, spitting as he spoke.
His slick face flushed red, a glow born from the intoxicating rush of power.
"What kind of enterprise are we? We are the group's benchmark! And what is discipline? It is the lifeline of this company!"
His voice, distorted and shrill through the loudspeaker, scraped against everyone’s eardrums like a blunt knife.
"But still, there are always a few individuals, disorganized, undisciplined! Self-important, treating company rules like they're nothing!"
His hand abruptly pointed at me.
"Avery Hayes! Engineer in the Technical Department! This morning, two minutes late! A full two minutes!"
He emphasized the words, as if those two minutes were an unforgivable crime.
"According to the newly enacted labor discipline regulations, one minute late means a hundred-dollar deduction. Two minutes late, the nature of the offense is egregious! I have decided to deduct Avery Hayes's entire year-end bonus for this year, totaling ten thousand dollars!"
"Ten thousand!"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
That ten thousand dollars represented a year of my hard work, countless all-nighters, and overcoming endless technical challenges.
Now, because of two minutes, it was gone.
I stood rooted to the spot, dressed in faded blue overalls, my eyes behind black-framed glasses showing not a single ripple of emotion.
I was just thinking about how I’d stayed up until 4 AM last night, poring over a German document to crack the K-factor compensation algorithm for the A-7 equipment's servo motor.
When my alarm went off, I thought I was still dreaming.
Was any of that necessary to explain?
To someone whose only goal was to assert dominance, there was no point in even trying to communicate.
Beside me, Mark, a good-natured engineer in his fifties, was sweating profusely, secretly winking at me, his lips silently forming the words: "Just give in, Avery, quickly, just give in."
I saw him, but I simply shook my head slightly.
My silence seemed to thoroughly infuriate Mr. Sterling on the stage.
He felt his authority challenged—an engineer, and a woman at that, dared to be so calm in front of him.
He pulled the microphone closer, his voice almost a roar: "Avery Hayes! Do you have anything to say? Do you have any objections to this disciplinary decision? If not, come up and sign the confirmation!"
He wanted to see me cry, to beg, to break down.
That way, his "example" would be truly made.
Under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, I began to walk, one step at a time, toward the high platform.
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The End