Just when Ashley thought her office life couldn’t get more chaotic, along comes Karen, turning every rule of workplace decorum on its head. With Karen’s disruptive behavior peaking, Ashley plans a birthday surprise that could mend fences or alter office dynamics forever.
A woman sitting around table holding a tablet | Source: Unsplash
Hi everyone, I’m Ashley. I have a story about office life quirks that might sound familiar to many of you. So, buckle up, and don’t hesitate to chime in if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar situation.
Three office workers chatting and laughing | Source: Unsplash
I work at an advertising firm—a place where no two days are the same. Some days crawl by, while others whiz past so fast you barely have time to catch your breath.
A group of cheerful multi-ethnic colleagues having a party after work | Source: Pexels
Last-minute surprises? A regular feature. But despite the chaos, I genuinely enjoy what I do. I’m surrounded by awesome colleagues, and the workplace vibe is top-notch. Well, it was top-notch, until Karen came along.
A woman in a red sweater leaning on a table while working | Source: Pexels
Now, I’m all for welcoming new faces. Newcomers stir things up, bring fresh ideas and skills, and generally pump new life into the team. But Karen… well, she’s a different story. It’s not that her work is bad, per se—it’s just that there’s a lot left to be desired, particularly in the ‘attitude’ department.
Dirty glasses and plates by the sink | Source: Pexels
So, Karen was quite the character. She had this habit that drove all of us up the wall. Every day after lunch, while the rest of us made sure to clean up our dishes and keep the kitchen tidy, Karen would just leave hers in the sink. Not a care in the world, just her dirty plates piling up.
A female office worker relaxing with her feet on the table | Source: Pexels
And if that weren’t enough to test our patience, her favorite pastime during work hours was napping. But not just any napping. Picture this: Karen, sprawled out in her office chair, legs thrown up on the table, shoes marking the surface with all kinds of dirt. It was a sight.
The snoring was the worst part! It was like having a freight train running through the room. Every. Single. Day.
An indoor swimming pool | Source: Pexels
But it gets worse. Once a week, we would head to the pool for a relaxing break from the daily grind. Except Karen decided it was the perfect place to… file her feet. Right there in the shower area while we were all around. Gross, right? Super disgusting.
A woman filing her feet | Source: freepik
Then, there was the lunch incident. Imagine sitting at a restaurant, trying to enjoy your meal, and there’s Karen, at the same table, flossing her teeth. Not discreetly, but openly.
Two women having lunch outdoors | Source: Pexels
One time, a piece of whatever she had for breakfast shot out and landed smack on my friend’s and my face. We were mortified. That was it. The absolute last straw.
A woman holding a dental floss | Source: freepik
My friend, I, and nearly all our colleagues were fed up. So, we came up with a plan. Karen’s birthday was coming up, and we figured it was the perfect opportunity to clue her in on her less-than-charming habits. It was high time for a lesson, and we were just the folks to deliver it.
A group of people talking and looking at a laptop | Source: Pexels
So Karen’s birthday rolls around, and we decide to go all out. The whole department comes together, balloons floating everywhere, a big cake sitting proudly on the table, and of course, a special present just for her.
She walks in, sees the setup, and her face lights up. “Oh, guys, you shouldn’t have…” she exclaims, genuinely surprised.
Happy young women holding stacked presents | Source: Pexels
As she begins to unwrap her gift, we all gather around, watching eagerly. The moment she pulls off the last piece of wrapping paper, her expression changes dramatically.
A woman looking at a white paper in her hands | Source: Pexels
There, in her hands, is a huge poster framed beautifully but the content? Not so beautiful for her. It’s a list of etiquette and hygiene rules we all felt she desperately needed to follow.
A woman unwrapping her birthday gift | Source: Pexels
Her face turned a deep shade of purple as she read the list aloud: ‘Wash your dirty dishes, no sleeping in the office, stop the loud snoring, and please, for the love of God, stop filing your feet in the pool shower area and flossing your teeth at meals.’
The room fell silent for a moment, everyone holding their breath. But we didn’t stop there.
A fondant cake on a stand | Source: Unsplash
We made sure these new ‘rules to live by’ were impossible to miss. Each rule was also plastered on the cake and written on each balloon floating around the room. We wanted to make sure our sweet Karen wouldn’t forget them anytime soon.
A shocked woman covering her eyes with one hand | Source: Pexels
The mix of shock and realization on Karen’s face said it all. This birthday, she got a gift that would keep on giving—hopefully, a nudge towards better office etiquette.
Balloons beside a white wall | Source: Pexels
Now, before you jump to conclusions about why we took such a drastic measure when we could have just had a simple chat with Karen—trust me, we tried.
Work colleagues having a conversation | Source: Pexels
And not just a casual mention; we really sat down with her and laid it all out, super politely. We told her how her habits were affecting the office atmosphere.
A woman sitting alone next to a birthday cake and presents | Source: Pexels
She nodded, promised to be more considerate, and everything seemed like it was going to be okay. But, alas, nothing changed. It was as if our conversation never happened. So yeah, we went with the drastic step.
Why her birthday, you ask? Well, it’s not a day one easily forgets, right? And we figured it would make the message stick.
Photographs lying beside a birthday cake | Source: Pexels
Plus, we made sure to document the whole thing. Pictures, videos—the works. These weren’t just for laughs; they served as a kind of proof, something to remind Karen of her promise in case she slipped back into old habits.
After unveiling the gift, there was a tense moment. Karen was visibly upset, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her features.
A brown-haired woman with confetti in her hair | Source: Pexels
She wasn’t expecting to be ambushed with a ‘hygiene intervention’ in front of everyone on her special day. Honestly, it took her a moment, but once the initial shock wore off, she agreed—again—to follow the rules we’d laid out.
This time, though, there was a serious undertone to her agreement. Maybe the public nature of the intervention made the difference.
Office workers doing a high five | Source: Pexels
What about you? Have you ever dealt with a ‘Karen’ at your workplace? How would you have handled the situation? Would you have done the intervention differently, maybe more privately, or not at all? Drop your thoughts and let’s chat about the wild world of office dynamics. I’m all ears!
A woman enjoying a drink while working on her laptop | Source: Pexels
Take a look at another interesting story below:
I Served a Woman Who Mocked Me throughout High School & Finally Got My Revenge after 20 Years
Under the soft glow of the evening lights, the restaurant buzzed with the cheerful din of a successful night. Yet, as I moved between the tables, careful not to bump into any sharp table corners, a familiar and unwelcome face caught my eye—Karen.
An interior of a restaurant | Source: Pexels
She hadn’t changed at all. Even after 20 years, the same haughty expression adorned her face, a look that had tormented me throughout my school years with her cruel taunts about my lisping and stuttering.
Suddenly, I was taken back to high school where my lisp was at its worst, making me second guess speaking.
An angry woman with folded arms | Source: Pexels
School speeches were the worst part of my entire schooling life, where girls like Karen would begin laughing from behind their hands and end up hanging off their chairs, tears streaming down their faces.
I would escape to the library and spend every free moment there, just to escape the taunts.
Teenagers taking a selfie | Source: Pexels
I remember the one incident where I was clutching my books tightly to my chest, trying to make myself smaller, trying to blend into the gray of the lockers as Karen navigated the sea of students, in her impossibly high heels.
I could feel Karen’s gaze like a spotlight, singling me out from the crowd.
A row of gray lockers | Source: Pexels
“There’s Lisp-Lily, boys!” Karen’s voice boomed, drawing a circle of laughter around me.
“Give us a smile and a speech, Lily,” she said. “Show us that stellar s-s-stutter,” she mocked, her words stretching out with malicious exaggeration.
A girl sitting on a chair | Source: Pexels
I remember wanting to cry myself to sleep that night. I sat in the kitchen with my brother, Alex, and I told him all about the events of the day and how Karen had lost it.
“You should give it back to her, Lily,” my brother said, spooning ice cream into a bowl for me.
Two bowls of ice cream | Source: Pexels
“If I could, I would,” I said. “But the moment I open my mouth, you know what happens.”
My brother went off on a tangent about how I should never allow anyone to make me feel less than myself.
“You’ve got to stand up for yourself,” he said.
A smiling young man | Source: Pexels
And I did. In my own way.
Click here to find out what happened next.
New Homeowners Expressed Gratitude for the Additional Set of Keys I Supposedly Left, but I Never Provided Them, and None of the Locks Correspond to Those Keys
A mysterious set of keys discovered in their grandparents’ old house sends two sisters on a suspenseful journey into their past. As they delve deeper, they uncover a long-forgotten room that reveals the house was hiding more than just cherished memories.
My name is Emily, and I grew up in a house that was more than just bricks and mortar; it was a part of our family’s story. My sister, Megan, and I inherited this old house from our grandparents.
It was a little run-down, but it had character. It was the kind of place that creaks at night, where every sound seems to whisper a memory from the past. We used to laugh about the noises, chalking it up to old pipes or a settling foundation. But deep down, I always felt there was more to it, something almost alive in the way the house carried the echoes of our childhood.
I always loved that house, and not just because it was home. My grandfather, a quiet man with a heart of gold, spent countless hours teaching me how to fix things around the house.
We would spend entire weekends working on small projects like repairing a leaky faucet or sanding down the old wooden floors. He’d tell me stories from his youth, sharing wisdom wrapped in humor. Those moments were priceless, and every corner of the house seemed to hold a piece of him.
After Grandma passed, though, the house felt different, heavy, almost suffocating. Megan couldn’t stand being there anymore. She didn’t even want to step foot in the place after the funeral. While I clung to the memories, she was eager to let go and sell it.
She rushed the whole process, not even bothering with repairs or anything. We got a decent offer, and after some hesitation, I reluctantly agreed to sell it. Letting go was harder than I expected, but I knew it was time to move forward, even if it meant leaving a piece of my heart behind.
A few weeks after the closing, I get this text from the new owners:
“Thanks for leaving the extra set of keys! But we were wondering, what does #1135 mean?”
I blinked at my phone. Extra keys? I didn’t leave any extra keys. I had barely enough time to grab my own before we handed everything over. And that number? No clue. I texted them back:
“I didn’t leave any extra keys. Where did you find them?”
They replied:
“They were in a drawer in the kitchen. None of the locks match though. We tried every door, nothing works. Just thought it was odd.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Megan had cleaned out the kitchen. I hadn’t even been in there that much. So, where did these keys come from? And why did this feel off?
I texted Megan right away:
“Did you leave any extra keys in the house? The new owners found some in the kitchen, and they’re asking about #1135.”
Her response was almost immediate:
“NO. THEY NEED TO GET OUT. Tell them to wait outside the house. NOW.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. Megan never freaked out like this. She was always the cool, collected one. For her to react like this? Something was wrong. Really wrong.
I sent the homeowners a message:
“Hey, just to be safe, could you step outside the house for a bit? Something’s not sitting right with me. I’ll explain when I get more info.”
They replied, concerned but cooperative:
“We’re already out. Standing by the front door. What’s going on?”
I had no idea what was going on, but I needed answers. I called Megan. She picked up on the first ring.
“Meg, what is happening? What does #1135 mean?”
There was silence on the other end. Then, she let out a shaky breath.
“It’s… The code Grandpa used for the basement.”
I felt a chill settle over me.
“Meg… there’s no basement door in that house.”
“I know,” she replied, her voice uneasy. “But there used to be.”
My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
Megan was silent for a moment before she finally said, “I’ll explain everything later. For now, they just need to stay outside. I’m coming over with some people who can check it out. I’ll explain when I get there.”
The next hour felt like the longest of my life. Megan didn’t tell me anything over the phone after that, and I had no idea what to expect. I stood by, pacing nervously, while the new homeowners hovered near their front door, visibly concerned.
When Megan finally pulled up with a team of professionals, they didn’t waste any time. Without saying much, they went inside and headed straight to the basement. I watched from the yard, trying not to let my imagination run wild. The new homeowners stood beside me, exchanging worried glances.
After what felt like forever, Megan and the team finally came out. Megan looked both relieved and a little embarrassed. The professionals were packing up their equipment, and one of them gave a thumbs-up as they headed to their van.
Megan walked up to us, brushing off her hands.
“No danger,” she said with a small, apologetic smile. “Everything’s fine. They checked the basement, and there’s nothing hazardous down there. No gas leaks, no chemicals, no faulty wiring.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, but the confusion still lingered. The new homeowners also looked relieved but clearly wanted an explanation.
“So… what was all this about?” I asked.
Megan sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry for the scare. I honestly didn’t think we’d ever have to deal with this. When I saw the number 1135, it jogged my memory.”
She looked over at the new homeowners and then back at me. “Do you remember how Grandpa used to always do little projects around the house? Years ago, he built a storage area in the basement where he kept tools, extra supplies, and things he didn’t want us kids messing with. He sealed it off when Grandma got sick because they needed the space for medical equipment. I thought everything was cleared out, but I guess not.”
I blinked. “So, what’s #1135?”
“It was the code Grandpa used for that storage room,” Megan explained. “When I saw that number, I panicked. I thought if the new owners found keys, maybe there was something left in that room that could be dangerous — like old supplies or chemicals. I didn’t want to risk it, so I had the professionals come to check.”
The new homeowners exchanged a glance, one of them speaking up. “So the keys are just for an old storage room?”
Megan nodded. “Yeah. I’m so sorry I didn’t mention this earlier. I honestly thought Grandpa had cleared everything out, and I completely forgot about the room after we sealed it up. But when you said you found those keys, I remembered the old room, and I didn’t want to take any chances.”
I shook my head, still a little stunned. “So, there was nothing dangerous down there after all?”
“Nothing at all,” Megan confirmed. “Just some old tools and supplies Grandpa stored years ago. No chemicals, no faulty wiring — it’s completely safe.”
The new homeowners both sighed with relief, one of them smiling. “Well, at least we have an extra room to use now.”
Megan laughed a little, still looking apologetic. “Yeah, think of it as a bonus storage space.”
As the professionals finished packing up and drove off, the tension in the air finally lifted. I gave Megan a look, half-amused and half-exasperated.
“You could’ve told me all of this from the start, you know.”
Megan shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t want to freak you out until I was sure. And honestly, when I saw that number, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just remembered Grandpa sealing it off and got worried something dangerous was left behind.”
In the end, it turned out to be nothing more than an old storage room full of forgotten tools and supplies, left sealed off when Grandpa had no more use for it. The panic had been unnecessary, but I couldn’t blame Megan for being cautious.
As the new homeowners went back inside, grateful for the heads-up, Megan and I stood by the car for a moment, shaking our heads.
“I guess we can finally close the chapter on Grandpa’s house,” I said, relieved.
Megan nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, just one last surprise.”
And that was it. No mystery, no danger — just an old forgotten space that had stayed hidden for a little too long.
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