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墨書 Inktalez
The elevator doors opened with a soft "ding," and the man stepped out onto his floor, his stride steady and imbued with an undeniable presence. This was his domain; every inch of the workspace was under his control. As a supervisor, his aura exerted an invisible pressure that expanded through the air with each step he took.
Along the way, employees from various departments paused their tasks upon seeing him, bowing slightly and nodding in respect, their demeanor cautious yet reverent. "Good morning, Supervisor," someone greeted him softly, their tone laced with both caution and anticipation. The man's expression remained calm and unruffled; he merely nodded or responded with a low grunt, striking a perfect balance between aloofness and familiarity—exactly how a supervisor should conduct himself.
He walked past several rows of desks, his gaze sweeping over every corner like a finely tuned scanner, quickly capturing all details. Not far away, a group of new young employees huddled together, whispering and laughing. Although documents and keyboards cluttered their desks, their attention had clearly drifted from work. As the sound of his footsteps approached, they instantly straightened up as if jolted by an electric shock, hastily typing on their keyboards as if they had been diligently working all along; beads of sweat formed on their foreheads.
The man's brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing more, continuing toward his office. Internally, he couldn't help but sigh, thinking to himself, "These people... they lack ambition and are truly wasting this opportunity." He remembered when he first started in the industry, pouring his heart into every task—back then, he couldn't afford to be distracted. But what about today’s youth? Their vision seemed short-sighted; their minds were restless, seemingly content to just get 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 work area. The glass outside the office reflected his figure—his upright posture and calm expression exuded authority and inviolability. He understood that these people might not grasp his expectations for now, but that was part of his job—not just managing business but also nurturing these inexperienced "rookies," helping them understand the rules of this workplace and its true value.
Finally, he pushed open the office door and sat down heavily. The chair reclined slightly backward as if accommodating his weary body. Leaning back against the chair, he let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling as he felt the weight on his body finally lift from his legs; that 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 laziness. The middle-aged Female Secretary entered with a cup of steaming warm water in her hands. "Supervisor, I brought you some water," she said steadily, her tone carrying an unspoken kindness. He nodded slightly and took the cup from her hand, feeling the warmth of the ceramic—a rare comfort. 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 as he pressed a hand against his lower back; a familiar dull ache revealed itself in his expression. "Could you bring me a cushion? My back is acting up again," he said with a hint of resignation and fatigue in his voice. The Female Secretary paused for a moment before nodding gently. "Of course, I'll get it right away." She turned and left with steady steps.
Before long, she returned with a gray cushion in hand. She quietly approached him from behind and carefully placed it against his lower back with practiced ease, mindful not to cause him any discomfort. "Is this more comfortable?" she asked softly. He adjusted himself against the cushion and felt some pressure alleviate; he nodded appreciatively. "Yes, much better. Thank you."
Seeing this, she smiled faintly and replied softly, "I'll step out now; call me if you need anything." With that, she quietly exited the room, closing the door so gently it barely made a sound.
Left alone in the office, he closed his eyes briefly to savor how the pain in his back gradually subsided; for a moment, he finally found some peace. However, he knew this relaxation wouldn't 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, preparing himself for the hard battles ahead.
The conference room buzzed with tension; voices rose one after another like waves crashing in an invisible war within that confined space. Papers lay scattered across the table while data charts projected on the screen went unnoticed—a mere backdrop to chaos. Supervisors from various departments were red-faced like fighting roosters, each word laced with barbs as if they were not vying for resources but rather seeking to tear apart each other's positions.
"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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