Part 2The Accidental Nepo Baby: How I Roasted My Boss and Burned Down Corporate

Monday morning. Greg slammed the printed proposal down on my desk.

Smack.

His face was the color of a bruised plum, his eyes bulging out of his head.

My coworkers held their breath, furiously typing on their keyboards to look busy.

Yeah... most people would be intimidated. But this is Riley we're talking about. Back in my YouTube days, I dealt with internet trolls wilder than anything in a corporate office. You think I’m scared of a guy going through a midlife crisis?

Greg glared at me, dead silent, waiting for me to speak first.

Always the considerate employee, I asked with deep concern, "Greg, your face is super red. Is your blood pressure spiking? You can't mess around with high blood pressure at your age. It leads to strokes, and strokes lead to paralysis. If you're paralyzed, your wife is going to end up pushing your wheelchair while she flirts with the pool boy."

Greg’s face went from plum to a vibrant crimson. He slammed his fist on my desk.

"Riley Lawson! Is that how you speak to your manager?!"

I immediately feigned panic. "Huh? Greg, I'm just a straightforward person! I don't mean any harm, I'm just worried about your health! Don't hide your symptoms from your doctor!"

He looked like he wanted to hit me. He literally rolled up his sleeves.

My coworkers hesitantly looked over, looking like they were ready to break up a fight.

I shrank back in mock terror and asked tentatively, "You’re not going to assault me in an office building exactly three blocks away from the Chicago Police Department headquarters, are you?"

Yep, the precinct was right around the corner. Response time would be phenomenal.

Greg roared, "Fix your proposal! I spent my whole weekend correcting it! Don't ever make me clean up your messes again!"

I nodded, pretending to be terrified. "Yes, yes, absolutely. I will heed your wise teachings and fix it at the speed of light."

Greg stomped back to his corner office. Before stepping inside, he shot me a death glare.

Ugh. When beautiful people glare, it's fiery and romantic. When ugly men glare, they look like wild boars stuck in a fence.

If Greg had just left me alone, I actually would have fixed it immediately.

But there was nothing fundamentally wrong with the proposal. He was just nitpicking to assert dominance, demanding the corporate equivalent of drawing a transparent line with red ink.

Since he wanted to disgust me, I decided the proposal could wait. Time to look at some handsome celebrities to cleanse my eyes.

The number one rule of office slacking: master your keyboard shortcuts. You must be able to switch to an Excel spreadsheet in a fraction of a second.

To set the trap, I piously opened the company's internal intranet homepage and left the top news bulletin running in the background.

Then, I opened a pop-culture site and happily scrolled away.

Footsteps approached!

I unleashed the finger speed of a twenty-something gamer and instantly swapped my tabs.

Greg roared with righteous fury, "Riley! What the hell are you looking at?!"

I looked up innocently. "Huh? I'm reading the company news portal. Did you want to read it too, boss?"

Greg thought he had me cornered. "I saw the reflection in the glass! You're reading garbage tabloid news!"

I silently turned my monitor around so the whole office could see, and slowly read the headline of the intranet article aloud:

"Conglomerate Appoints New CEO: William Lawson Takes the Helm."

I looked at him politely. "Greg, are you saying the new CEO is garbage tabloid news?"

Greg's face turned a sickening shade of green.

My coworkers' expressions were absolutely priceless.