The Day My Intern Tried to Ruin Me

Right after finishing a meeting, I opened a forum and saw a warning post. The location tag was our company.

The title read: “Red flag! What a cheap company. Anyone who joins is a total sucker. They can’t even afford a decent coffee break.”

The photo attached showed the expensive coffee and five-star desserts I had just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone.

I frowned and tagged the entire group chat, asking if anyone had suggestions about the afternoon tea.

A Gen-Z intern who had just joined, Julian Hayes, instantly replied with a voice message:

“Boss, no offense, but these assembly-line desserts are full of trans fats. Nobody would eat them.”

“A truly humane company hires a Michelin chef to cook and slice everything fresh on site. That’s what real respect for employees looks like.”

I laughed in disbelief.

Our company’s daily coffee break budget was thirty dollars per person—already considered top-tier in the industry.

So I replied, “Since it’s impossible to satisfy everyone’s taste, we’ll cancel afternoon tea from now on and convert the budget into cash for everyone instead.”

Less than five minutes later, that post was updated:

“Guys, can you believe this? I made a perfectly reasonable suggestion and the lame boss immediately canceled the whole coffee break perk! This is the true face of corporate greed—can’t handle even a little bit of honesty!”

The post was still gaining traction.

The comment section underneath had already turned into a mess:

“This kind of boss just wants to save money and is looking for an excuse.”

“Convert it to cash? Yeah right. That’s just empty promises. It’ll never show up on the paycheck.”

“Hey pal, run while you can. A company that can’t handle honest feedback has no future.”

Julian Hayes was all over the comment section, replying to nearly every comment: “Exactly. I’m just an intern. I only made the suggestion for everyone’s benefit, and now the boss is targeting me. This is seriously unfair.”

I tapped on Julian’s profile picture. It was a heavily edited selfie with the caption: “Gen Z here to fix the workplace.”

Fix the workplace, my ass.

My name was Victor Shaw, the only son of the chairperson of Shaw Group.

I didn’t want to join the family corporation right after graduation and be watched by all those old board members, so I took the pocket money my mother gave me and started this advertising and media company.

My original idea had been simple: build a dream company where I felt comfortable working, and where the employees felt comfortable too.

No clocking in.

No attendance checks.

I didn’t even set performance targets.

The daily coffee break came from a famous five-star hotel, the coffee was freshly brewed Blue Mountain, and even the hand soap in the bathrooms was a premium brand.

I thought that if I treated my employees well, they would return the same loyalty.

But reality had slapped me hard across the face.

At that moment, someone knocked on the office door.

My assistant, Ian, walked in. He placed a glass of water beside my hand, his expression uneasy.

“Mr. Shaw, the atmosphere outside isn’t great.

“Everyone’s talking about the coffee break being canceled. Julian is stirring things up out there, saying you…”

“Saying what?” I picked up the glass and took a sip.

“He said you… got embarrassed and lashed out because you couldn’t handle criticism.” Ian carefully watched my expression.

I let out a cold laugh. “Couldn’t handle it? Fine. Then I’ll play along with them.”

I picked up my phone and sent a message to the finance director: “Redo this month’s payroll. Convert the coffee break budget into cash.

“Update this month’s payroll. Add six hundred sixty dollars per person as a monthly payment. Label it ‘Coffee Break Stipend.’ Make sure it’s included in tomorrow’s paychecks.”

After sending the message, I stood up and looked outside through the slats of the blinds.

In the open office area, Julian was holding his phone while fixing his hair, with three or four senior employees gathered around him.

I recognized every one of them.

One was Maggie from the design department.

She had been here for two years.

Her work was mediocre, but she was obedient.

She had two kids at home, and I had personally approved an extra four hundred dollars each month as a “childcare allowance.”

Another was Daniel from the copywriting team, thirty-five years old, divorced with a child.

When he first came to me, his eyes were red as he begged for a job. I had softened and kept him, and I took care of him more than once since then.

There was also Eric from administration, a young guy who had just graduated not long ago and usually seemed quiet and well-behaved.

At that moment, they were gathered around Julian, their faces full of righteous indignation.

Although I couldn’t hear what they were saying, judging from their mouths and expressions, it definitely wasn’t anything good.

Julian rolled his eyes while fixing his hair, seemingly imitating my tone as he spoke, making the people around him burst into laughter.

I lowered the blinds, and the last trace of warmth in my heart faded with them.

“Since you all think a five-star coffee spread is garbage, and that a boss like me is a joke, then let’s see if you can handle what’s coming next.”