Chapter 1The $15,000 Tab: How to Truly Cancel a Toxic Intern

The company canceled our annual gala and distributed the budget to each department for a private dinner.

I was stuck in traffic and arrived late, only to overhear our new male intern talking trash about me through the door:

"Clara Hayes? She’s what, thirty-three? An old hag who hovers around my desk every day. It’s pathetic."

"It’s hilarious. She wants to date me? She wishes. I’m not gonna indulge her delusions!"

"In a minute, I’m ordering ten portions of the most expensive items on the menu. Don’t worry, she’s paying—what’s she gonna do, not show up?"

Everyone inside cheered, praising him for being the ultimate "Gen Z boss-buster" who was finally taking down toxic corporate culture.

I quietly released the door handle and stood outside, listening until he finished ordering a $15,000 feast.

Once he was done, I walked away and sent a message to the department group chat:

"Family emergency came up, I won’t be able to make it tonight."

"Here is the $800 dinner budget the company provided. Eat well and have a great time."

On the ride home, I leaned against the car window, a slow smile curving my lips.

Taking down toxic corporate culture?

Sure.

With this $15,000 bill, I'm going to teach you exactly how the real world works.

* * *

I sat in the back of my Uber, watching the notifications explode on my phone screen.

The "Marketing Dept Family" group chat was practically on fire.

Three minutes ago, right after sending those two messages and Venmo-ing the $800 budget into the group pool, I left the chat entirely.

But I forgot about the unofficial, "no-managers-allowed" group chat.

Right now, messages in that chat were refreshing at a rate of a dozen per second.

Tyler Vance, the intern, had tagged me dozens of times: "Clara, what the hell is this? You made it to the door and then left?"

"Are you a sore loser? You're the department manager, you're supposed to pay for this!"

"Who is $800 supposed to feed? Are you tipping a homeless guy?"

"Get back here and pay the tab! Don't make me lose respect for you!"

Following his messages were a flurry of photos.

Maine lobster sashimi, one for every single person.

Three bottles of wine that cost over three grand each, already uncorked.

And a table overflowing with premium seafood.

Just minutes ago, standing outside the private dining room, I had heard everything clearly. Tyler's voice was loud and obnoxious as he ordered:

"This, this, and this—give us the most expensive ones! Ten orders of each!"

"Waiter, pop all those bottles and let them breathe!"

"What are you guys scared of? Someone's footing the bill tonight. Our Manager Clara is loaded. If she wants to date me, she's gotta bleed a little cash, right?"

The room had erupted into hoots and hollers.

Someone tried to reason with him, "Tyler, can we even finish all this? Clara isn't even here yet."

Tyler's voice pitched up, "If we can't finish it, I'll box it up and feed it to my dog! We need to teach this touchy-feely female boss a lesson, let her know I'm not to be messed with!"

"Yeah, Tyler's right! Gen Z doesn't hold back!"

"Clara is always so stingy anyway, she deserves to bleed a little."

I let go of the door handle.

Originally, I was going to walk in. Even though I was late, I would have just bought a round of drinks as an apology and moved on.

But this dinner? I had lost my appetite.

My phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

Dave, one of the older guys in the office, texted me privately: "Clara, did you really leave? The food is already served, the bill is nearly $15,000. If you're not here, who's going to pay?"

I replied, "Whoever ordered it pays. The company budget is $800. I transferred all of it."

Dave: "Stop messing around. Tyler is just a clueless kid, why stoop to his level? Hurry back, the waiter is hovering with the tab and everyone is getting really embarrassed."

Me: "I'm not embarrassed."

Dave: "You're leaving everyone high and dry! The wine is opened, we can't return it!"

Me: "Tyler said he wanted to teach corporate a lesson. I'm giving him the opportunity."

I put my phone on silent and shoved it in my pocket.

The Uber driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Where to, ma'am?"

"Home."

The car merged into the night traffic.

I closed my eyes, my head filled with Tyler's arrogant voice.

I am thirty-two this year. I've ground it out at this company for eight years to finally climb to the position of department manager.

Tyler was an intern who started last month. He was decent-looking, but his work ethic was an absolute disaster.

He messed up basic print jobs and lost data when making simple spreadsheets.

Seeing that he was new, I gave him extra guidance and occasionally took him along to client meetings so he could learn the ropes.

To him, this translated to me wanting to date him, making me a "creepy boss."

It even became his justification for burning through fifteen grand.

Fifteen thousand dollars.

I have savings, but I'm not a human ATM.

My phone screen lit up again. It was an audio call from Tyler.

I declined it.

He called again.

I blocked his number.

A moment later, Marcus, the deputy manager, called.

Marcus and I had always been at odds; he had been gunning for my job for years.

I answered.

Marcus couldn't hide the smirk in his voice. "Clara, you really played dirty this time. Everyone was waiting for you, and you just bailed, leaving a room full of people hanging?"