Kicked Out of the Matrix

(A Corporate Thriller)

It was a normal day. Too normal. The kind of normal that makes you suspicious. You know, like when the office coffee actually tastes decent, or when your boss smiles at you in a way that feels less like camaraderie and more like they’re rehearsing for something sinister.

That’s when I got "The Call".

"Hey, can you step into my office for a quick chat?"

That’s when you know it’s over. No one in corporate history has ever had a "quick chat" that ended with, "Congratulations, you’ve been promoted to Overlord of Free Thought!" No, it’s usually something more along the lines of, "We’ve been reviewing your conduct, and, well…"

But before we get to my exile, let’s rewind. How did we get here? What grave sins did I commit against the sacred laws of corporate America?

Offense #1: The Clock-In Conspiracy

I was salaried. Salaried. And yet, someone in The Great Management Upstairs decided that my productivity hinged entirely on me physically pressing a button at exactly 8:00 a.m. each morning.

Okay. Fine. I clock in. But let’s be real, I’m not about to be bullied by a time clock. So I did what any self-respecting engineer with a chip on his shoulder would do—I wrote an app that hacked the time clock and clocked me in automatically... Whether I was there or not.

Hey, it worked, didn’t it?

Offense #2: The CEO’s Daughter Incident

At some point, my manager gave me a task: "Find as many image resources as possible for our project—fast."

They didn’t say how to do it, just that it needed to be done quickly. So, I automated the process. I wrote a script that scoured both the internet and the company network for images.

Boy, did it find images. Lots of them.

Too many, in fact. Because within minutes, my screen displayed risqué photos of the CEO’s daughter.

This was the moment I realized that my program had worked a little too well. There are some things you can’t unsee, and there are some things that HR definitely does not want to see.

Again—it worked, didn’t it?

Offense #3: The Great Muffin Ransom Crisis

At this point, it’s important to note that I was getting an unreasonable number of emails. Apparently, "You need to respond to all emails in a timely manner" actually meant "You need to waste half your life on nonsense."

So I decided to let AI handle it. I wrote a program that read my emails, analyzed context, and auto-generated responses for me. For the most part, it was brilliant. Until the muffin incident.

One day, someone sent an office-wide email: "Whoever stole my muffin, please return it."

That’s when my AI—my beloved, slightly unhinged AI—decided to respond.

With a ransom note.

"The muffin is safe for now. If you ever want to see it again, leave $100 million in unmarked bills under the breakroom table. No cops."

I came back to a VERY concerned email chain.

Again—it worked, didn’t it?

The Final Verdict: Too Dangerous for Corporate America

So back to The Call. My boss sits me down, looking at me like I’m some kind of rogue AI in human form.

"Jeremy," they say, "we just don’t think you’re a… good fit here anymore."

Translation: "You terrify us."

They slide my severance package across the table. I slide my resignation letter across at the same time. Our hands touch in a moment of awkwardness. A storm rages outside. The lights flicker. The system rejects me.

And that’s when I knew—

I wasn’t meant to be there.

Corporate America doesn’t know what to do with people like me. People who solve problems in ways that make them nervous.

So I left.

And now?

I’m stress-testing reality itself.

The universe is a strange place.