Clara had barely been supervisor for 72 hours and already, the factory felt like a pressure cooker.
And Clara? She was on a mission.
Everywhere I turned, she was there—correcting me, questioning me, watching me like a hawk on steroids.
"Is that how you fold the boxes, Miss Pearl? Should we give you a throne while we're at it?"
Laughter. Forced. Uncomfortable. Like they were laughing to survive.
By midday, I was already tired. Not from the work, but from *her*. She shadowed me like a curse.
"Pearl, office. Now," Clara barked, her red heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to doom.
I followed, fists clenched at my sides.
Inside, she closed the door and spun dramatically, arms folded.
"I was told that you're to put me through on how things work here in the lab," she said, like the words physically hurt her. "But let's be honest. You already think you're better than everyone, don't you? Little Miss University."
I just stood silent, expressionless.
She stepped closer. "Let me make this clear. As long as I'm here, you don't get special treatment. I don't care who drops you off in fancy cars or who you flirt with on your breaks."
What was she rambling on about?,
By noon
We were told that there'll be a general staff meeting organized by the manager and supervisors.
Everyone was present—floor workers, cleaners, Even the old security man with the limp showed up. That's how rare all-hands meetings were.
Manager greg stood at the front, flipping through his tablet like he had all the time in the world. Behind him, Clara hovered like an over-sprayed shadow in a red power suit, lips pursed, heels stabbing the floor with every step she took.
I sat quietly near the back, pretending not to feel the dagger stares Clara had been throwing my way since morning.
"We've had some lapses in discipline," Mr. Greg began, voice deep and slow. "And some misunderstandings. Today is about unity. Respect."
Cue Clara.
She stepped forward like she was auditioning for a reality show.
"If I may, sir?" she cut in with a fake smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Manager Greg raised a brow, clearly unbothered. "Go ahead, Miss Clara."
She turned to the crowd like a queen about to deliver judgment.
"I've noticed *some staff*—especially those who think being admired by men makes them untouchable—have gotten comfortable disrupting workflow."
Everyone tensed. My stomach dropped. She was going there.
"Some people come late, skip shifts, and instead of correction, they gather fans and pity parties. I mean, how can we run a factory when some workers think this is a modeling agency?"
A few heads turned. Some smirked. Most froze.
My fists clenched. My jaw locked.
Then, Mr. Greg cleared his throat.
Loud. Sharp. Final.
"Miss Clara," he said, slow and heavy. "I thought we agreed this meeting was not for personal attacks?"
She blinked, caught off guard.
"I wasn't—"
"Then who were you referring to?" he snapped. "Because if it's Miss Pearl, I approved her absence for her exam myself."
Boom. The room shifted.
Clara's face cracked like old foundation.
"And just so we're clear," he added, stepping forward, "this company doesn't run on jealousy, gossip, or cheap lipstick. If you have a problem with a staff member, take it up *professionally*. We don't do high school drama here."
The room was silent.
Clara's face turned red. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead, she turned sharply, heels clicking as she stormed off like a hurricane in heels—
Then—
Her heel caught on the edge of the tiled stage.
She tripped. Hard. Crashing down, legs flailing, her red skirt flying up just enough to ruin her reputation forever. She landed on her buttocks with a loud, humiliating *"Oof!"*
Gasps. Choked laughter. Someone coughed suspiciously loud.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.
Clara scrambled up like a broken Barbie doll, hair out of place, pride shattered. Without a word, she limped out of the hall.
The silence that followed was thick… until someone at the back whispered,
"Damn. And I thought Mondays were boring."
Everyone burst into laughter.
And just like that, for the first time in weeks… I smiled.
Because karma wore heels too.