MY CO-WORKER SLAMMED HIS LAPTOP SHUT WHEN I WALKED IN HIS OFFICE
I just walked into his office because the printer was jammed, and he slammed the lid shut, hard enough to rattle the blinds. He flinched violently, like I’d caught him stealing. The instant dread hit me – a cold wave washing over my skin. The air felt thick, suffocatingly charged. His face was pale, almost green and shiny under the harsh fluorescent office lights, eyes wide with panic.
“What’s wrong, Kevin?” I asked, the question tumbling out before I could stop it, genuinely concerned for a fleeting second. He just shook his head rapidly, mouth thin, fingers drumming a frantic beat on the cold plastic laptop lid. His knuckles were white against the dark surface.
A low, metallic *ping* sound slipped out from the speakers before he completely fumbled muting them. My eyes darted down, catching a fleeting glimpse of tiny text right on the screen edge before the lid slammed fully shut. It looked like… dates? And numbers… next to something about a *withdrawal*?
My gut twisted hard, a sickening clench. “Kevin, what was that? What were you just looking at?” My voice was shaking, not just slightly now, but trembling uncontrollably. He suddenly leaned forward across the desk, eyes narrowed into cold slits, just as the office manager’s sharp clearing of her throat echoed from the doorway.
She looked at Kevin, then at me, and her smile completely vanished.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…Sarah, the office manager, stepped fully into the doorway, her initial pleasant expression replaced by a look of sharp inquiry as she took in the scene: Kevin’s pale, panicked face, my trembling body, and the tension thick in the air.
“Everything alright in here?” she asked, her voice tight.
Kevin forced a laugh that sounded like gravel scraping. “Oh, hey Sarah. Just… uh… feeling a bit under the weather. Didn’t hear [Narrator’s Name] come in.” He gestured vaguely at me, avoiding eye contact.
My throat felt glued shut for a second, but the image of those brief words on his screen, the numbers, the word “withdrawal,” flashed behind my eyes. “He… he slammed his laptop shut,” I managed, my voice still shaky. “Hard. And he looked… really scared.”
Sarah’s gaze flicked from Kevin to me, then settled on the laptop lid under Kevin’s white-knuckled grip. “Scared, Kevin?” Her tone was level, but it held a steel edge. “What were you working on that required such… a dramatic exit?”
Kevin’s forced smile vanished completely. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route that didn’t exist. “Nothing! Just… personal stuff. Private.”
“Private work on a company laptop during office hours?” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “And it’s causing you to turn green and jump out of your skin when a colleague walks in for a printer issue? [Narrator’s Name], you said you saw something?” She turned back to me, her eyes demanding honesty.
The pressure was immense, but my gut was screaming. “I… I just saw a quick glimpse before he slammed it. It looked like… dates and numbers. And the word ‘withdrawal’. Like a transaction log or something.”
The blood drained from Kevin’s face again, leaving it paper-white. He let out a strangled sound.
Sarah’s expression hardened. She stepped further into the room, her posture radiating authority. “Kevin. Open the laptop. Now.”
“No!” Kevin’s voice was a desperate rasp. He tightened his hold on the machine.
“Kevin, I won’t ask again,” Sarah warned, her hand reaching for her phone. “Either you open it, or I call IT and security right now. We have policies about misuse of company equipment, especially if it involves activities you’re trying to hide.”
He stared at her, cornered, his chest heaving. The panic in his eyes slowly gave way to a bleak resignation. His shoulders slumped. With trembling fingers, he slowly, reluctantly, lifted the lid.
Sarah stepped around the desk, leaning over the screen. I edged closer, my heart pounding.
What we saw made the air grow colder. It was indeed a spreadsheet, not a standard banking site, but something much more unsettling. Dates and amounts, large ones, next to company account names and a column labelled “DESTINATION”. Many entries under “DESTINATION” read “PERSONAL ACCOUNT – K. Miller”. The sum at the bottom was astronomical, clearly showing money siphoned away over months, possibly years. The metallic *ping* I’d heard must have been a notification from this internal tracking document or a related transfer notification.
Sarah straightened up, her face grim. Her gaze met mine for a brief second, a silent acknowledgement of the gravity of what we were witnessing. Then she looked at Kevin, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Kevin, this is… this is company theft. Embezzlement.”
Kevin just stared at the screen, unable to speak, his earlier panic replaced by a numb shock.
Sarah didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her phone. “Security, this is Sarah Jenkins, Office Manager. I need someone in Kevin Miller’s office immediately. We have a… a serious situation.”
The printer jam was forgotten. I stood rooted to the spot, the cold dread replaced by a chilling certainty. Kevin remained slumped in his chair, the damning evidence glowing on his screen, while the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall. My brief, unwelcome visit to fix a simple printer had just uncovered something far bigger and far more disturbing than a paper jam.