Manager’s Failed Protest
As more voices filled the room, my manager raised his hand in a last-ditch effort to regain control. “Let’s not exaggerate,” he said, trying to project authority, but the attempt fell flat. His words were quickly drowned out by the steady stream of truth pouring from the staff. “We know what’s been happening,” one colleague stated firmly, cutting off his attempt to downplay the situation. He glanced around the room, searching desperately for an ally, but found only silence and cold stares. It was clear—his reign as the office’s puppet master had come to an end.
Manager’s Failed Protest
Dad Observes Diligently
As the room buzzed with voices, Dad stood calmly at the back, nodding occasionally and jotting down notes with quiet precision. He had a keen eye for recognizing genuine contributions and was clearly building a mental record of the unfolding events. With every observation, he seemed to connect the dots faster than anyone else, his sharp focus cutting through the noise. Each nod he gave felt like a silent promise—that every voice would be acknowledged, and that justice was not just coming, but already taking shape.
Dad Observes Diligently
