Tales From The Office: Work Besties 4Eva?

Welcome to The Way We Work: Tales from The Office

Dear Readers (in my OG Carrie Bradshaw voice—not the new one),

I told y’all I had to reimagine this channel into something meaningful and impactful. Sure, the prior drops were full of info, but to be honest, it was a lot of work and I wasn’t being as efficient with creativity and storytelling—two areas I think we need to see more of in the workplace. Our stories at work matter.

So, The Way We Work: Tales from The Office has been born.

These are fictionalized stories of actual events—either things I’ve experienced or stories others have shared—reimagined by me so you can get a peek behind the corporate curtain. Or, if you’re already behind it, maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of a part of the stage you haven’t seen before.

I hope you enjoy them as they marry the two gifts I have: impactful work and writing. You want to share a story I can fictionalize? Holler at me.

They had no idea when they were packing up their desk—the iconic red stapler they loved because of Office Space, the collection of Sharpie pens they’d obsessed over guarding, the printed pics of their last team outing at Topgolf—that they would never speak to Kelly again.

They meant it.

They had seen it coming for weeks—hence removing all the personal files like pictures and transferring all the projects they had created so they’d have them for future use. Kelly hadn’t even noticed.

Val kept packing the box:

• Favorite sweater (because the AC in office buildings was brutal)

• Tea packets (because the tea selections were terrible)

• Favorite mug that said “Btch you doing a good job*,” which always made them laugh when the stress was high

And the stress was high today. Mass layoffs. Val wasn’t the only one, but in this moment they were very careful to focus on themselves rather than everyone else—because they needed it.

Ordinarily, they would be the one making sure everyone was doing OK. But that was when they were working here.

Kelly had been one of the first people Val clicked with—because there’s a difference between getting along with someone at work and really clicking with them.

They had shared the same faces in meetings when things just didn’t sound right, volunteered to help when nobody else did, ran to pick up lunches together—singing Beyoncé at the top of their lungs. They had even had dinner together with their significant others outside of work. Constant memes, encouragement texts, staying late to help each other out, becoming each other’s shoulder to cry on when the stress—and there was a lot of stress in HR—became too much.

They were work besties.
People even called them The Twins.

If Val was being honest with themselves, they would realize that there had been a moment where perhaps they weren’t as close as they thought. But they wouldn’t realize that moment until later when… well, until later.

Right now, Kelly was crying and twisting her fingers—a sign of nerves Val remembered.

Across the aisle, a few other people they knew were packing up like Val was, but right now Val felt like everyone was watching them throw away old Post-its, benefit guides from last year, and old recognition certificates from when all of this mattered.

The company had been undergoing a restructure—announced six months ago. New leadership was coming in and saying things needed to be more “efficient” than how they’d run things before.

It had been more like a small town here. Everyone knew everybody. Everyone gathered at the pub across the street for their infamous off-menu spaghetti lunch, or stayed for hours longer than the unofficial-official Wednesday happy hour.

Too much small-town comfort.
Good for the employees.
Not good for the new leadership.

Kelly was a chameleon, Val learned.

When they heard about the crackdown on long lunches, or the new leaders paying attention to who stayed at happy hour longer than the actual happy hour, or the benefits being “reviewed” to make them more cost-efficient (but less helpful for the employees), Kelly wasn’t outraged like Val was.

Kelly was silent—but compliant.

Soon, there were a lot fewer lunchtime Beyoncé car ride concerts. Kelly “had to stay back to finish something,” but was actually having lunch with people she thought had staying power.

Not Val.

It wasn’t about work quality.
Val was known to be really good at their job.

It was more about perception.

Val was people-first. Others were more company-first, then people. Not that there was a right or wrong way. There was just a “who’s least likely to get laid off” kind of way.

Kelly wanted to do what wouldn’t get her laid off.

Val knew that sometimes, it’s not about what you do—because companies make decisions all the time.
They had even talked about this before.

Val had finished packing the box and, somehow, had finished around the same time as everyone else who had this great task of packing away memories, hard work, laughs, frustrations, and routine in about 15 minutes or less.

They all started migrating to the elevator to the parking garage.

Val looked behind themselves at Kelly.
Val wasn’t sure if she expected Kelly to walk them down like they had done for each other so many times before—when one was leaving before the other.

But Kelly hadn’t moved.

The text never came.

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