Part 1The Accidental Nepo Baby: How I Roasted My Boss and Burned Down Corporate

I have a terrible temper. I roast anyone who crosses me, and I’ve made it my personal mission to give corporate America a brutal reality check.

Coincidentally, our conglomerate got a new CEO. He shares my last name. Instantly, a rumor spread through the agency that I was the new big boss's daughter.

Hahaha. So don’t even think about texting your auntie for a project proposal at midnight. Got it?

* * *

My manager was a complete moron.

When I first joined the company, the first thing he did was poke around to see who I was connected to.

I told him I didn't pull any strings; I got in by passing the brutal multi-round corporate assessments fair and square.

He looked at me like I had just told a joke. "No connections? How the hell did you get a desk here?"

I ignored him. What a clown.

Later, he snooped around and even tracked down the HR rep who interviewed me.

Once he confirmed that I actually got in on pure merit, he started looking down his nose at me.

I was the youngest in our department, the only Gen Z hire.

He claimed he wanted to "challenge the younger generation," but in reality, he just dumped all the grunt work on me—the stuff the older, do-nothing lifers in the office refused to do.

And this work was mind-numbingly stupid.

For example: finalizing the schedule for cross-departmental meetings, and then making me call every single department head one by one to inform them.

Right after I finished calling everyone, Greg Patterson—my manager—would casually say, "Oops, let's change the time."

Then he'd make me call everyone back.

And I would be the one getting yelled at by the annoyed department heads.

After bowing and apologizing on the phone, I'd walk back to our suite.

Before I even pushed the door open, I could hear Greg gloating inside, saying that young hires needed to be broken in and put in their place so they’d be obedient.

I laughed out loud. According to the laws of corporate physics, if I get yelled at, you’re not escaping the blast radius either, buddy.

I pushed the door open, smiled sweetly, and said, "Did you guys catch the news lately? My dad always says the men who have no control over their own lives love acting like everyone's father at work. Take care of your own miserable little cubicle first before trying to play daddy to the rest of us."

Greg's face turned sheet white.

I pretended I just noticed him and gasped. "Greg! Why do you look so pale? You should really get a prescription for testosterone or something. Balance yourself out!"

A few coworkers stifled laughs, quickly biting their lips and looking down.

Whatever. They were scared of Greg. I wasn't.

Before getting this job, I made a killing running a snarky commentary channel on YouTube. I only took this corporate gig to make my grandfather, who was bedridden in the hospital, happy and proud.

To say something incredibly rebellious: I had already decided that the day my grandpa passed away, I would quit this place.

But before I quit, I planned to march up to Greg's desk and slap every single document he ever wrote—complete with all his typos and horrific formatting—right across his face.

He was an incompetent hack who did nothing but bark orders. A total waste of oxygen.

On Friday morning, I handed my project proposal to Greg. He was glued to his phone, aggressively texting either his wife or his mistress.

He didn't read a single word of the proposal.

I couldn't care less. When the clock struck 5:00 PM, I grabbed my bag and headed for the elevator.

Suddenly, he cared about the work—specifically, my work.

"Riley! Are you done with everything? Leaving so early?"

I rolled my eyes. "I've been here for my required eight hours. Are you approving overtime pay if I stay?"

I walked out without waiting for an answer.

Our conglomerate was massive, and hiring was strictly regulated.

Greg didn't have the authority to fire me. He didn't even have the power to give me a raise or a promotion.

So, his entire management strategy consisted of shifting blame, making empty promises, and using verbal manipulation.

Before me, two or three junior staff members had quit entirely because of this idiot.

When I first started, a guy from the neighboring department warned me that Greg was a nightmare to work with.

I told him it was fine. There isn't a coworker in this world I can't "get along" with.

And if we can't get along, they become my enemy, and they don't deserve to be in my airspace anyway.

I've had plenty of bosses. Some were perfectionists, but as long as we got the job done, I could reason with them.

But someone as aggressively stupid as Greg? This was a first.

I handed in my proposal on Friday morning. He didn't say a word.

Fast forward to Saturday night. I was at my apartment playing with my cat when he tagged me in the massive, company-wide Slack channel.

"@Riley Lawson, there are glaring issues with this proposal."

Wow. The sheer audacity.

Our department had its own private group chat. Are you blind?

You’re dragging me in the company-wide channel just to show the executives that you’re "working hard" on a Saturday night, right?

I put my cat down and cracked my knuckles over my keyboard.

"Good evening, Greg! I actually sent that proposal to you on Friday morning. But you seemed pretty busy all afternoon having a very loud phone conversation about how to grill the perfect brisket."

"I reminded you to review it, but you ignored me. I'm so sorry there are mistakes! Please point them out so I can fix them. Oh, and while you're at it, drop that brisket recipe in the chat! It sounded delicious."

Enter. Send.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour.

The company-wide channel was dead silent, but my DMs were blowing up.

Coworker A: Riley, you absolute legend!

Me: Thank you, I try. [Blushing Emoji]

Coworker B: LMAOOOO! Now I want brisket!

Me: Tell Greg to drop the recipe.

Coworker C: Girl, that was the MAIN channel!

Me: Exactly. It’s the MAIN channel, Greg!

Greg was completely mute. He didn't reply in the main chat, and he didn't even dare DM me.

My dad was right. The men who love playing alpha dog are just paper tigers. They bully the weak and cower before the strong.

It takes a man to know a man!