Hired and Fired in 24 Hours

I was a technical consultant personally recruited by old Mr. Sewell.

On my second day, I hadn't even gotten my ID badge yet.

That morning, a crowd was waiting at the elevator. When the doors opened, I instinctively stepped inside, but suddenly felt a shove from behind.

Move it, move it, move it! Mrs. Sewell is here!

The woman, in her early thirties, didnt even glance up, her high heels clicking as she squeezed past me into the elevator.

Her male assistant forcefully pushed me aside, and I nearly collided with a trash can.

I suppressed my anger, choosing not to make a scene.

But that afternoon, HR showed up.

In front of everyone, Mr. Thorne, the manager, ripped off my temporary ID badge and tossed it into the trash can.

Mr. Sewell said your probation period is over.

Pack your things and get out.

A rule-breaking dog like you will never be worthy of entering Sewell Groups doors!

I said nothing, quietly gathering my belongings.

I pulled out my phone and found the message that had gone unanswered.

Mr. Lyn, about the employment conditions you mentioned last time.

I accept.

My first day at work, I finished the paperwork in the afternoon, only to be dragged into an emergency project meeting that evening.

A technical problem had stalled the team for a month, leaving the engineers with hollowed-out eyes from exhaustion.

Looking at their test data, I had a rough idea.

It wasn't a major issue, but it would take time.

I ended up working until two in the morning.

This morning, I dragged myself out of bed at seven, my eyelids heavy with fatigue.

My mind was consumed by the optimization path for that algorithm, so much so that I didn't even pay close attention to the queue at the elevator.

The elevator doors opened.

I instinctively took a step forward.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from behind, forcefully pushing me to the side.

The force was considerable; I stumbled back a couple of steps, nearly crashing into the trash can by the wall.

By the time I regained my balance and turned around, a young man in a black suit was already blocking my path.

He made a shooing gesture with his hand towards me, words spilling out in a rapid-fire volley: Move it, move it, move it! Get out of the way, are you blind?

Can't you see Mrs. Sewell is here?

The crowd automatically parted, creating a path.

A woman in high heels strode in.

She was in her early thirties, with long, curled hair and an unreadable expression.

Her gaze swept over my temporary ID badge, but her eyelids didn't even flicker.

I stood there, looking at the crumpled cuff of my shirt.

Before the man in the black suit followed her in, he glanced back at me, his mouth turning down at the corner.

Id seen that look before.

It wasn't a big deal, just that dismissive who do you think you are? kind of contempt, so subtle it wasn't even worth his breath.

A large elevator, yet only two people entered.

I took a deep breath, pushing down my anger.

Better to avoid trouble.

It was only my second day, the project was waiting, and it wasnt worth getting into it with someone like that.

Another elevator door opened.

I smoothed out my cuff and followed the rest of the crowd into the elevator.

The elevator ascended in silence.

Everyone was covertly sizing me up.

There was sympathy in their eyes, some ridicule, and many other unreadable emotions.

The crowd streamed out. As I walked towards my cubicle, a middle-aged woman with a teacup, sitting nearby, leaned over and whispered, New guy, huh?

You were standing by the elevator just now, weren't you? Did Mrs. Sewells assistant push you?

I didn't reply.

The woman sighed, looked left and right, then leaned in closer: Listen, kid, I'm just an old busybody, but there are some things you need to know.

Mrs. Sewell is not someone you want to cross. She never takes the same elevator as regular employees, she thinks its beneath her.

Oh, and her assistant's name is Louis, he's Mr. Thorne's brother, the HR manager.

Everyone in this company knows Mrs. Sewell and Mr. Thorne are old classmates, right?

If you offend her, your job well, it might be

She didn't finish the sentence, just shook her head.

I offered a faint smile: Thanks for the warning.

Don't just brush it off, she said, looking a little anxious at my nonchalance. A few days ago, a young woman, just because she didn't move fast enough in the elevator, Louis yelled at her, and then somehow, she was gone before her probation was even over.

You, this

Ma'am, I know you mean well, I interrupted her. But I think I'll be fine.

She looked at me suspiciously.

I didn't elaborate.

She was about to say more, but someone called her from a distance, and she hurried off with her teacup.

As she left, she looked back at me, her eyes filled with the worry of an elder seeing a naive young person.

I didnt dwell on it.

I sat down at my workstation, opened my laptop, and continued to adjust the parameters from last night.

It wasn't that I was ungrateful for her concern, it was that I genuinely wasn't afraid.

Because I was personally invited back by Mr. Sewell, the companys founder.

A week ago, freshly returned from overseas, I was on the shortlist for several companies.

It was then that old Mr. Sewell reached out through a contact, requesting a meeting.

The meeting wasnt in some luxurious office, but an old tea house in the west of the city.

Old Mr. Sewell was in his seventies, with completely white hair and a slightly stooped back.

The moment he saw me, he reached out and clasped my hand, holding on tight, his grip surprisingly firm.

Mr. Lane, Ive finally met you, he said, pulling me to a seat and personally pouring me tea. Ive read your papers published abroad, every single one, several times over.

That paper on intelligent algorithm optimization paths, I understand parts of it, but not entirely.

After all, Im just an old man, a layman in technology.

But I trust in your abilities.

As he spoke, he pulled out a stack of papers from his old leather briefcase C my research papers, densely printed.

Our company is currently facing a major problem. Our core project has been stalled for a year, and we've poured nearly twenty million into it with nothing to show for it.

Ive consulted experts in this field, and they said fewer than five people in the entire country could save this project. You are one of them.

I smiled faintly: Mr. Sewell, you flatter me.

Not at all, not at all. He waved a hand, leaning forward slightly. Mr. Lane, I won't beat around the bush. I want to invite you to join Sewell Group, and you can name your terms.

I paused for a moment.

The old man looked at me, his clouded eyes showing a stubborn determination: I know you have several options, and I know our company isnt the biggest or the wealthiest.

But let me tell you something from the heart, this project is the last thing I want to accomplish in my life.

Ive been in business my whole life, made some money, and now at the end, I want to create something truly remarkable.

Not for myself, but to leave something for this industry.

As he said this, his voice was low, but every word was distinct.

I looked at his silver hair, at his face full of wrinkles, and something stirred within me.

Mr. Sewell, I

You don't have to agree right now. He cut me off, pouring me another cup of tea. Go home and think about it. My only condition is this.

If you come, youll be in charge of this project.

Whatever you need, people or money, youll have it.

He then pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to me.

This is my private number. Whenever you've made up your mind, feel free to call me.

After returning that day, I deliberated for three days.

The conditions offered by other companies were indeed better, but for some reason, the old mans cloudy eyes kept swirling in my mind.

When he said, I want to leave something for this industry, his tone reminded me of my graduate advisor.

The old man never rushed me.

On the fifth evening, I sent him a message, saying I had made up my mind and would join.

The next morning, he had his assistant contact me to arrange my onboarding.

Before I left, he specifically called me, his voice filled with joy:

Mr. Lane, rest assured, I will personally oversee your compensation to ensure you are not shortchanged.

You were brought in by me, and I will absolutely not allow you to suffer any injustice.

I believed him.

So now, I wasnt at all worried about Mrs. Sewell or Mr. Thorne.

Mr. Sewell, after all, was merely old Mr. Sewells son.

Moreover, in a place where technical skill spoke loudest, there was no need to cater to anyone's whims.

I lowered my head and continued typing code.

The parameters on the screen adjusted smoother and smoother, and I gradually forgot the earlier unpleasantness.

The words the old lady had spoken were long gone from my mind.

Project progress was paramount.

I was here to solve problems, not to get involved in office politics.

Just as I was hitting a crucial part of the code, footsteps suddenly sounded behind me.

I didn't turn around.

The footsteps stopped behind me.

You must be Ethan Lane?

The mans voice was a little sharp, a little arrogant.

I turned my head.

A man in a white shirt stood behind me, in his early thirties, with slicked-back hair.

He was followed by two others, a man and a woman, both with their heads down, carrying folders.

I stood up: Im Ethan Lane. And you are?

He didn't answer, just looked me up and down, his gaze settling on the temporary ID badge on my chest.

Then he smiled.

It was an unsettling smile, as if hed seen something utterly ridiculous.

He reached out, pinching the thin plastic with two fingers, and ripped it off.

You wont be needing this anymore.

Rip.

In front of everyone, the ID badge was violently torn off.

Without even looking at it, he casually tossed it into the nearby trash can.

You

My words were cut off before I could finish.

Ethan Lane, right?

Im the HR manager, Mr. Thorne.

He took a step forward, very close to me, his spittle almost spraying my face.

Mr. Sewell said your probation period is over.

He paused, a slow grin spreading across his face.

You have ten minutes. Pack your things and get the hell out.

The office fell silent.

I could feel the gazes from the surrounding cubicles, all directed our way.

Some were pretending to be busy, head down, while others covertly looked up, their eyes filled with shock and sympathy.

Mr. Thorne stared at me, waiting for me to speak.

He waited for me to argue, to plead, to show panic and distress.

I didnt move.

Nor did I speak.

His smile faltered slightly, then became even more arrogant: What? Didnt hear me? Ill say it again then.

A rule-breaking dog like you will never be worthy of entering Sewell Groups doors!

If I see you here in ten minutes, Ill have security throw you out!

With that, he clapped his hands, as if hed just touched something dirty.

Then he turned and walked away, his dress shoes clicking loudly on the floor.

The two followers hurried after him, never once lifting their heads to look at me.

The office was eerily quiet.

I stood rooted to the spot, looking at the crumpled temporary ID badge in the trash can.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the unanswered message.

It was from Mr. Lyn, CEO of Lyn Industries, three days ago.

At the time, I had already agreed to old Mr. Sewell, so I hadn't replied.

Mr. Lyn.

I accept the employment conditions you mentioned last time.

After hitting send, I began packing the items on my desk.

My laptop hadnt even warmed up, the code wasnt finished.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Less than two minutes after sending the message, my phone vibrated.

Mr. Lyns reply was direct: Welcome aboard! Ill have a driver pick you up immediately!

No, better yet, Ill pick you up myself!

I continued packing.

My laptop went into my backpack, a few pens from the drawer were tossed in, and I glanced at the borrowed water bottle on the desk.

It wasn't mine, so I left it.

As I zipped up my backpack, footsteps sounded behind me, someone jogging over.

Mr. Lane!

I turned around. It was old John, an engineer Id met in the project team yesterday.

He was in his forties, with graying hair and deeply sunken eyes, clearly a seasoned technical veteran who had pulled countless all-nighters.

He hadn't spoken much during the meeting yesterday, but the few questions he asked were spot-on.

Mr. Lane, I finally found you, old John said, out of breath. I can't get this parameter to tune, could you take a look for me?

As he spoke, he was already holding out a tablet, filled with dense data.

I glanced at the screen, then at him.

He then noticed I was packing my things and froze: Mr. Lane, what are you doing?

His gaze swept to the side and landed on the temporary ID badge in the trash can.

Old Johns face changed. He squatted down, picked up the badge, which had some tea leaves stuck to it.

He wiped it with his hand, flipped it over to read the name, then looked up at me.

Mr. Lane, who did this?

I offered a faint smile.

Its fine, John. Send me that parameter to my email; Ill take a look tonight if I have time.

No, what exactly happened? old Johns voice rose. You just started yesterday, how could you be?

Before he could finish, footsteps echoed from down the hallway.

Old John turned around; it was Mr. Thorne returning.

Next to him was the man in the black suit, the one who pushed me this morning.

Mrs. Sewells assistant, Louis.

The two brothers walked over, one after the other, their expressions identical, both with a hint of a smirk.

Louis spoke first, nodding towards me: Well, well, still here?

Got fired and still trying to leech off us?

Mr. Thorne stood beside him, arms crossed, saying nothing, just watching me.

Old John stepped forward, demanding, Mr. Thorne, what is going on?

Mr. Lane is the technical consultant our project team brought in. He just started yesterday, why is he leaving today?

Mr. Thorne rolled his eyes.

Old John, this has nothing to do with you.

How can it have nothing to do with me? Old John held up the ID badge. Who threw this away? Mr. Lane was personally recruited by old Mr. Sewell, do you know that?

Louis snorted with laughter.

Mr. Thorne took a step forward, pointing a finger at old Johns chest: Old John, how many years have you been at this company?

Old John froze.

Over ten years, why?

Over ten years, Mr. Thorne nodded. And youre still just an engineer. Do you know why?

Old Johns face clouded: What do you mean?

What do I mean?

Mr. Thorne withdrew his hand, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth. Louis immediately leaned in to light it for him.

They completely ignored the 'No Smoking' sign on the wall.

He took a drag and blew smoke right into old Johns face.

Its because of your muddled thinking.

Old John coughed a couple of times from the smoke, stepping back.

Mr. Thorne, cigarette in mouth, eyed him askance.

Old Mr. Sewell? Old Mr. Sewell retired a year ago, dont you know? Whos in charge of the company now?

Old John, stubborn, argued: But even so, you cant

Cant what? Louis interjected. John, my brother calls you 'Old John' out of respect.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you.

Old John's face turned beet red.

You you cant just make Mr. Lane leave!

Mr. Thorne flicked his cigarette ash, slowly saying, What did he do wrong? He did a lot wrong.

This morning at the elevator, Mrs. Sewell was already there.

This kid, eyes in the back of his head, pushed his way to the front.

Louis told him to move, and he dared to glare back.

Louis nodded beside him: Yeah, like a stubborn idiot, just stood there.

I stood by, listening, not saying a word.

Old John grew agitated: Just for that? Just because he didnt yield the elevator to Mrs. Sewell?

Mr. Thorne threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with his foot.

Old John, are you an idiot? Thats Mrs. Sewell! The companys boss!

What is he, a consultant who just started?

And he dares to fight Mrs. Sewell for an elevator?

Louis chimed in: Exactly, what a nobody.

Old John was trembling with anger.

You you're too much! I'm calling old Mr. Sewell right now to make him resolve this!

He said, pulling out his phone.

Louis's face changed, and he reached out to snatch it.

Old John dodged, but couldn't hold onto his phone, and it clattered to the ground with a snap.

Louis stomped on it.

Crunch.

The screen shattered.

Old John froze, staring down at the pile of fragments on the ground.

Louis took his foot back, his sole still carrying glass shards.

He scraped his shoe on the floor, cleaning it off, then looked up and smiled at old John.

Go on, call him again.

Old John looked up, his eyes red: You

Mr. Thorne walked over, patting old Johns shoulder, this time with considerable force, repeatedly.

Old John, Im advising you, stay out of this.

Louis is my brother, you know that.

My brother works for Mrs. Sewell, you know that too.

And you know my relationship with Mrs. Sewell even better.

He paused, then leaned in close to old John's ear, lowering his voice.

But the office was so quiet, everyone could hear.

If you keep meddling, you'll be out with him today.

Old John trembled with rage.

Mr. Thorne stepped back, sizing him up, a smirk on his face: Think it through yourself, ten years of service, for a stranger who just arrived yesterday. Is it worth it?

I walked over and patted old Johns shoulder.

John, let it go.

Old John turned to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed: Mr. Lane

I smiled faintly and picked up my backpack.

Its fine. Ill email you that parameter tonight.

Louis, listening nearby, sneered: Still emailing? Fired and still pretending to be a big shot?

I ignored him and walked towards the exit with my bag.

Mr. Thorne called after me: Ethan Lane, did you hear what I said?

I stopped and turned back to him.

He stood there, a newly lit cigarette in his mouth, eyes squinted at me.

I said, youre not worthy of entering Sewell Groups doors.

If you dare to show up again, I'll have you beaten every time I see you!

I looked at his face, then at Louis, who stood beside him with his arms crossed.

I smiled.

Don't worry, even if old Mr. Sewell himself comes to ask.

I won't be coming back.