A Clueless Intern and the Secret Laptop
It was Arjun’s third day of his internship with Harold, and if Harold had known what was coming, he might have called in sick. As soon as Arjun left the room, Harold let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples like he was trying to wipe away the memory of Arjun’s latest “question of the day.”
“This is going to be harder than I thought,” Harold muttered to himself, considering whether it was too early in the day to start stress-eating the chocolate bar stashed in his desk drawer.
Just one reason why Harold would soon start seeking breaks or would soon start thinking about side hustles!
So just as he was about to declare the day over and make a run for the elevator, his phone buzzed on the desk. Harold glanced at the screen and felt his heart drop into his shoes.
A single word flashed across the display: “Tonight.“
Panic flooded Harold’s veins. He quickly locked the office door as if the word “Tonight” might somehow burst through the walls.
He pulled out a small black case from under his desk – a case he had promised himself never to open at work but here he was, breaking promises like they were office coffee mugs.
The Secret Laptop!
Inside was a sleek laptop with no logos or identifying marks, a device so secretive it practically whispered, “I don’t exist.” Harold powered it up, half-expecting it to start humming a James Bond theme.
The screen flickered to life, and a message appeared: “New assignment: High priority.“
Harold’s fingers danced across the keyboard, opening the encrypted file like a pianist playing his magnum opus. The details were sparse but alarmingly clear: someone had been snooping around DataCorp’s confidential files – his files. They needed to be dealt with immediately.
“Who could it be?” Harold wondered, trying to remember if he had left any incriminating sticky notes lying around. Suddenly, a loud knock on the office door nearly launched Harold out of his chair.
Harold slammed the laptop shut and slid it back into the black case with the speed and grace of someone hiding a cupcake from their diet coach.
“Just a minute!” he called out, his voice breaking into a falsetto that only added to his anxiety. He took a deep breath and unlocked the door, plastering a smile on his face as if that would somehow erase the panic lines forming on his forehead.
Emily stood there, her eyes narrowing like a detective who just found the first clue in a murder mystery – minus the murder, hopefully.
“Harold, you okay?” she asked, her tone dripping with concern, or maybe suspicion.
“Yeah, just… uh… wrapping up some things,” he replied, trying to sound casual but coming off more like someone hiding a body. “What’s up?”
Emily stepped inside and closed the door behind her, clearly intent on some kind of intervention.
“I wanted to talk to you about Arjun,” she said, lowering her voice like they were about to discuss state secrets. “He seems a bit… lost. How’s he doing with the training?”
Harold glanced at the clock, silently cursing time for not pausing when he needed it to. “Oh, he’s doing fine,” he said quickly. “Still has a lot to learn, but he’s eager. Maybe too eager.”
Emily nodded, but her eyes were glued to Harold’s face, searching for cracks in his carefully constructed façade. “Good,” she said slowly. “But keep an eye on him. We can’t afford any mistakes right now.”
"I understand," Harold assured her, though he wasn’t entirely sure which one of them she was more worried about - Arjun or himself.
Emily turned to leave but hesitated at the door, throwing Harold a glance that was half concerned colleague, half suspicious detective. “And Harold,” she added, her voice softening, “don’t overwork yourself. You look exhausted.”
Harold forced a smile that he hoped didn’t look like a grimace. “I’ll be fine,” he lied, silently wishing for a vacation somewhere far away, preferably on a deserted island with no Wi-Fi.
As soon as she left, Harold locked the door again, flipping the lock so many times it could’ve been a DJ scratching a record. He returned to his secret laptop, only to find the screen had gone into sleep mode—a fitting metaphor for his own dwindling energy.
Just as he was about to dive back into his covert mission, his phone buzzed again. This time it was Arjun, asking where the office stapler was. Harold stared at the message, wondering if this was some kind of test from the universe. Resisting the urge to throw his phone out the window, Harold replied, “It’s on my desk. Don’t touch anything else.”
Oh Sure! What is this Arjun up to?
Harold was about to turn back to his laptop when the office door swung open without warning. Arjun stood there, proudly holding up the stapler like it was Excalibur.
“Found it!” Arjun announced, oblivious to the fact that Harold was now contemplating a career change, perhaps something less stressful – like lion taming.
“Great, Arjun,” Harold said, his voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “Now, can you please give me a moment? I’m in the middle of something… important.”
“Oh, sure! No problem,” Arjun chirped, before tripping over his own feet and sending a cascade of papers flying across Harold’s desk.
Harold watched in slow motion as a single sheet floated down, landing right on top of his secret laptop. It was the one sheet of paper that could potentially ruin everything – a list of intern questions Arjun had prepared for tomorrow.
“Just… perfect,” Harold muttered under his breath, as Arjun scrambled to gather the papers, apologizing profusely while managing to knock over a coffee mug, sending it rolling across the floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” Harold said through gritted teeth, though he was fairly certain he’d have nightmares about this moment for weeks.
Finally, Arjun left, taking his stapler victory with him. Harold locked the door again, for what felt like the hundredth time, and returned to his laptop. He opened it with trepidation, half-expecting another interruption, but this time the coast was clear.
For now.
As Harold began typing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a very long night, filled with more comedic mishaps than he cared to count. But as long as no one else asked about the stapler, he might just make it through the night with his sanity – barely – intact.
I will need a break soon or I would need to learn how to cook Lasagna Pastitsio or maybe - Baked zitis! |
