"Follow me!"
Yo! Why are they so rude? Everyone in this company is rude!
Oh, by the way, it's a jewelry and wedding planning company. I don't think I mentioned that before.
I follow the man, who looks and acts like he spent the whole night fighting with his wife and is now venting his anger on everyone else.
He leads me through a maze of sparkling glass counters filled with rings, necklaces, and glittering stones that catch the light like tiny stars.
It feels like walking into some kind of fairy-tale treasure vault, except instead of dragons guarding the gold, there are wedding planners running around, too busy to even glance my way.
I try to act cool, like I've totally got this, but my palms are sweating as we navigate the rows of polished desks, each one neatly set up with a computer and stacks of folders that look far too official. My mind is racing, wondering what on earth I've gotten myself into.
Finally, he stops at an empty desk.
"Here's your desk," he says curtly.
It's nothing fancy—just a standard desk with a chair, a computer screen, and, most importantly, a sense of ownership.
I sit down, trying to settle into the chair and look like I belong here.
But before I even have a chance to adjust, a woman with a sharp expression and a towering stack of papers storms toward me.
"Thank God this space is finally occupied. Here, look through these papers and bring them back in a minute. We don't have much time left!" she snaps, dumping the pile onto my desk with a thud that feels personal. Not a single word of explanation, not even a smile. Just… papers.
What am I even supposed to do with these papers?
I stare at the documents, then glance around the office, hoping someone will clue me in.
Everyone else seems deeply absorbed in their screens or flipping through wedding portfolios like they're solving some high-stakes puzzle.
"Um, excuse me?" I try, leaning toward the guy at the next desk. He doesn't even look up, just nodding vaguely, like I'm not worth his time.
I shift my attention to another planner a few desks over—a woman muttering furiously about flower arrangements and guest lists. She flicks a hand in my direction, as if to say, Figure it out.
Great. Just great.
I pick up the first document, squinting at the endless list of dates, names, and numbers. It looks like some bizarre code, and I have no clue whether I'm supposed to sort, file, or simply stare at it until it starts making sense.
"Excuse me? Uh... I kinda just got here, and this was dumped on me. Can you at least tell me what to do with it? I mean, it's not like I don't know—I'm just a little confused right now," I say, trying to sound polite but feeling my patience slipping. I direct my question to the girl at the desk next to mine.
I thought working in a wedding planning company would be fun.
I wanted something exciting—something I'd enjoy doing. My parents had insisted I pursue a medical or education course, like everyone else in my family.
My dad and mom are surgeons, my sister followed in their footsteps, and my older brother is a lecturer at Egerton University.
But I wanted none of that. I wanted to escape the monotony of their world. At one point, I even told them I wanted to be a model.
They laughed it off, saying modeling wasn't a career. I suggested acting, and they shut me down again.
So, I stuck with this—thinking weddings would be fun and heartwarming, surrounded by people in love.
Now, though, I'm seriously rethinking my life choices.
"This isn't done yet?!" the girl exclaims, breaking my thoughts. She looks genuinely panicked. "We're so screwed! This wedding plan needs to be finalized in 30 minutes, and we just realized we messed up something big. We had to redo everything from scratch before the clients find out!"
She types furiously on her keyboard before turning back to me. "I'll send you the revised version. What you need to do is cross-check it with the papers in front of you and mark any mistakes you find. Got it?"
"Uh… yeah, I guess," I stammer, still a little lost.
"Good. Give me your email," she demands. I rattle it off, and within seconds, the documents are on my phone.
You're not stupid, Julian. You're a smart, adorable boy. You can do this—just calm down, I silently pep-talk myself.
I dive into the documents, and it turns out they're not as alien as I thought. My mind clicks into gear, and in no time, I've reviewed everything and flagged a mistake. I double-check my work to be sure.
"Where am I supposed to take these? I'm done," I announce, turning to the girl.
"Send them to the designers in the relevant departments—like, match each one to where it belongs," she says without even looking up.
"Uh… where exactly is that?" I ask, confused again.
She sighs, clearly exasperated. "The head of the department gave them to you, right? Go find her and hand them back. Or ask someone else—I'm busy."
With no other choice, I get up and start wandering around, hoping to spot the woman who dumped these papers on me in the first place. After a few frustrating minutes, I finally see her walking through the door.
"Excuse me, I've finished reviewing. There's only one mistake. Here are the papers," I say, holding them out.
She doesn't even look at me.
"That work needs to go to different departments. And you're here telling me you've 'finished confirming'? Make sure the corrections are delivered to the right teams. Do you understand?" she snaps, walking away without waiting for an answer.
I stare after her, stunned.
Okay, this is bullshit. I can't do this. People ordering me around like I'm some kind of slave? I wasn't even here when they messed things up!
Frustrated, I storm out of the room and head straight for the CEO's office.