MY BOSS SCREAMED MY NAME DURING THE ALL-HANDS MEETING IN FRONT OF EVERYONE
The projector screen went black, flickered intense green for a second, and the entire file, the crucial Q3 report I just cued up, just completely vanished into thin air. Mr. Henderson’s face changed instantly, not placid at all, but a deep, alarming shade of red creeping rapidly up his neck.
He slammed his fist down on the podium with a terrible crack. “You deleted it! The critical Q3 data! Everything we worked on! How could you possibly do something so incredibly reckless?!” His voice roared, echoing in the shocked, dead silent room.
A cold, heavy knot, sharp and painful like ice, slammed into the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t even opened that file this morning, just double-checked it was there. The air suddenly felt thick, heavy, suffocating, that artificial fake-lemon cleaning smell from the table polish overpowering me completely. My hands started to tremble uncontrollably.
My throat felt like dry dust, completely parched and tight, every breath a struggle. Why? Who would do this to me? I scanned faces desperately for a clue in the harsh overhead fluorescent conference room light, searching for someone who looked away too quickly.
Across the room, Kevin smiled, a slow, chillingly empty expression spreading across his face.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…”I… I didn’t delete it, Mr. Henderson! I just cued it up, I swear!” My voice came out as a strained whisper, barely audible over the ringing in my ears and the frantic pounding of my own heart. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, threatening to spill. The injustice of the accusation felt like a physical blow.
Mr. Henderson’s face was now almost purple, veins bulging in his forehead. “Don’t lie to me! It’s gone! Completely gone! You incompetent fool, do you have any idea what this means?!” He gestured wildly towards the blank screen. The silence from the dozens of stunned faces watching us was deafening, amplifying my humiliation a hundred times over. My mind raced, trying to grasp what could have happened. A virus? A system error? But the way Kevin smiled… it was calculating, triumphant.
Just as Mr. Henderson seemed about to erupt into further accusations, a voice broke the tension from the back of the room. “Mr. Henderson, sir? Could I just check something?” It was Sarah from IT, a quiet woman who usually kept to herself. She cautiously approached the podium, her eyes darting between the raging boss and my trembling form.
“What is it, Sarah? Unless you can magic that report back, this is hardly the time!” Henderson snarled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes – perhaps the faintest hope, or just impatience.
Sarah didn’t flinch. “I can just do a quick check of the recent activity on [my computer name]’s network drive. Files aren’t usually just ‘deleted’ without a trace.” She swiftly plugged her laptop into the podium’s connection point, her fingers flying across the keyboard. The silence stretched again, thick with anticipation, punctuated only by Mr. Henderson’s heavy breathing and the frantic static in my own head.
After what felt like an eternity, Sarah looked up, her brow furrowed. “The file wasn’t deleted, sir. It was… moved. Just a few minutes ago. To a different folder on the network drive, hidden deep within a temporary backup directory.”
Mr. Henderson’s face slackened, the furious colour draining away, replaced by a stunned pallor. He looked from Sarah to me, then his gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly. Kevin was no longer smiling. He was staring intently at his hands in his lap.
“Moved?” Henderson repeated, his voice significantly lower now, though still rough. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “But… but why?”
Sarah shrugged slightly. “Someone would have needed access to [my computer name]’s recent files and the network drive. It wouldn’t happen accidentally.”
The implication hung heavy in the air. Not a technical glitch. Not accidental deletion. Sabotage.
Mr. Henderson finally turned back to me, his face a study in confusion and lingering embarrassment. The fiery accusation was gone, replaced by an awkward silence. He didn’t apologize directly, not in front of everyone. Instead, he mumbled, “Well. Find the file, quickly. We need to get this meeting back on track.”
Sarah was already working, her screen showing the path. In less than a minute, the Q3 report was back on the main server and accessible. With trembling hands, I navigated back to the correct folder, my fingers cold and stiff. The file icon reappeared on the screen. Relief washed over me, so potent it almost made my knees buckle.
I managed to get through the report, my voice shaky at first, but gaining a semblance of composure as the familiar data anchored me. The rest of the meeting was a blur of averted gazes and forced professionalism. Mr. Henderson didn’t make eye contact with me again until the very end, offering a brief, tight nod.
Later that day, in the quiet of my cubicle, the events replayed in my mind. The terror, the humiliation, the sickening certainty that Kevin was behind it. Mr. Henderson’s explosive temper and hasty accusation felt like a betrayal in themselves – how quickly he assumed the worst, how publicly he dismantled me.
I saved the report file again, this time backing it up multiple places. My hands were still slightly unsteady. The Q3 report was safe. My job was safe, for now. But something fundamental had shifted. The clean, polished veneer of the office had cracked, revealing a chilling undercurrent of malice and a boss whose trust was as fragile as glass. Across the office, I saw Kevin at the coffee machine, laughing easily with someone. I didn’t look away this time. I just watched, the cold knot in my stomach replaced by a slow, simmering resolve. This wasn’t over.