Park Daisuke walks off the podium towards the annoyed man. Looking down at him, because he towered well over the angry employee. "I'm the man who is going to write your paycheck. So if I tell you to jump, you say?"
"How high?" the man and the two women who stood by Park Daisuke's side respond.
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The irritated man burst the exit door wide open and walked right out. Park Daisuke turned around, his expression was just as grim as earlier.
"Who's next?" He walks back to the podium, "If you want to leave, don't waste my bloody time. Pick yourself up and throw yourself out because it will happen eventually." The crowd steers, as I hear the scraping of seats and see saddened employees pace out the door, almost half the room gone. All cursing and sighing as they stomped out. One even muttered loud enough for Park Daisuke to hear, "My dad will hear about this."
"Now, the rest of you will begin today. Here are your temporary employee tags" his right-hand man and women, pick up the boxes that were set at the back and begin to hand out the lanyards. Lo and behold on the tags, it really said 'Temporary Employee' in bold red font. This man wanted to be able to recognize the temporary employees, even if we were a mile away. I shook my head in disgust Park Daisuke was blatantly misusing his power. How have his subordinates not reported him to Human Resources? Obviously, he has these three trained, but there must be some who rebel against this tyrant.
I bent my head, contemplating if there was a way to change my manager, and move to a different Design department. Could there be a way for me to get away from this babyfaced devil? Then two feet stepped in front of me. I instantly recognized the shiny black oxfords that clacked on the smooth floor a mere 10 minutes ago. I looked up to show respect to my new manager, only to face Park Daisuke's disgusted expression. His lips pursed, and you could tell he was swearing under his breath. Did I breathe wrong?
"What are you thinking about?" his baritone voice boomed and shut the entire room up. Even his right-hand man and women stopped passing around the lanyards. I struggled to get to my feet. I was scared he would toss me out the window. Could he have read my thoughts about requesting a different manager?
"The lanyards...they don't have our pictures or our names...manager...Park Daisuke. I was wondering if, maybe after. The pictures...are missing" I struggled to get my words out. He waved me to shut up and proceeded to return to the podium and look down at us, the "recyclable trash."
"There are no pictures or names because those things don't matter." He sighed as if that fact should obviously be known.
"If you pass my tests, you get your identity in the company. Until then, you are temp 1, temp 2, temp 3, and so on." He fiddles with his watch, checking the time.
"Just like our CEO, I only want the best. But unlike our CEO. I don't care for who you are, only what you can offer, and so far, you guys aren't offering much. Some of you can't even speak clearly" With that last phrase, he stares daggers into me. He then picks up his phone and struts out the door, oxfords clacking on the still smooth, shiny floor.
The pleasant scent vanished from the room, leaving only seventeen bitter temporary employees and three well-trained devil dogs. Mum and Dad in heaven, please watch over me, because I just met the devil, and he is worse than I thought.
TWO MONTHS LATER
Luckily 5 other temporary employees and I made it through Park Daisuke's constant criticism and nasty remarks. Though the test was design-based, the true test was putting up with the babyfaced devil and his three sidekicks: Mun Joon, Ryeo Da and the worst of the three Seol Soomin.
Every day we were given the grunt work, the research assignments, the late-night shifts. Once I had to leave the office at 8:15 PM working on Seol Soomin's assignment, and she still told Park Daisuke she did it all on her own. Granted, I don't want praise from that devil, but I had done all the work while she got all the praise.
The paycheck increase was the most satisfying part of the entire nightmare. I don't mean to be rude, but how is Park Daisuke even qualified to sign off on large sums of money. I can only imagine what his sidekicks make, much less the devil himself. With my replenished bank account, I set off to refurbish my wardrobe. I bought trendy office clothes from my favourite stores so I could fit. His subordinates look like they could easily be on any magazine cover, with their perfect hair, heels and makeup. I still have no interest in makeup or heels, but I can at least look like I tried to be more fashionable.
I pair my long-sleeved white shirt (because Park Daisuke hates coloured shirts) with a knee-length pencil skirt, I put on my shiny pink flats and pull my hair in a ponytail. I apply some lip gloss while I comb my unruly bangs. I would have used my hair straightener, but it is old and broken. It was my mums, and I don't want to part with it yet. I know it's more ladylike to carry a purse or a cute handbag, but a backpack is dependable, and you can transport a lot more with it. I also have a lot of work to complete daily, and I find it impossible to carry all my design prototypes and my laptop in a purse.
Park Daisuke hates it when people are late, and goes as far as to duck half your pay for the day if you come in after him. So I always catch the 5:30 bus and arrive at the office at 6:15 AM. Park Daisuke comes at 7 AM on the dot, not before, not after.
My bus was in a little accident and was replaced by another one. Running me 35 minutes later than usual. Looking at my watch as I race through the downpour, my shoes are soaked while my hair is wet and sticking everywhere. My cute shirt is ruined, but thankfully I should still have time to make it there before him. The building's giant glass doors slide open and I quickly swipe my employee tag. I see the elevator start to shut, and race to it. Pressing the open button, over and over, until it opens up again. It's packed full, but I manage to squeeze in.
"Uh-hum!" I hear a familiar voice cough behind me. I look up to see the usually dark and grim babyfaced devil. His face looks irritated, and his dark eyes glare at me. The rest of the employees shifted away from Park Daisuke, so he had his own space in the elevator. But I was in such a hurry I didn't even notice who he was, and now I was standing above his feet, dripping everywhere. He reaches and presses the open button again. When the doors open, he shoves me out of the elevator. Park Daisuke takes one look at my employee tag and smirks as the elevator doors are closing. Some employees who witnessed the ordeal mutter as they pass. Not only was I going to be late, but I was also probably going to be fired for dripping all over his shoes.