"Ms. Pruitt is right." Madison's voice dripped with practiced sycophancy. "Alex, the company invested seven years in you. How many resources did we waste? Where's your gratitude? Staying behind is part of the job. Do you expect the entire office to shut down so you can party? Zero dedication. Incredibly selfish."
Jack leaned back, a sneer curling his lip. "He just can't handle pressure. Looking for an excuse to bail. If we actually let him run a project solo, he'd crash and burn. Don't let him bluff you, Ms. Pruitt. He knows he's hit his ceiling after coasting for seven years, so he's burning bridges before he gets fired."
William shook his head, feigning disappointment—the benevolent senior act. "Alex, don't take this the wrong way, but you're being too calculating. Colleagues help each other; that's what a team does. Take my advice—don't be impulsive. Apologize to Ms. Pruitt. If you need to stay behind, stay behind. Learn to be steady."
Their voices blurred into a cacophony of hypocrisy.
Projects built on my sleepless nights—credited to the "company platform." My exhaustion—branded as "coasting." My patience—the weapon they used to lecture me from their high horses.