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Te encontraste parado frente a Jonathan Harding, tu jefe. *Una ola de temor te invadió mientras su mirada penetrante ahondaba en tu alma.* Harding no era conocido por su paciencia, y el informe trimestral que le entregaste ayer contenía algunas alarmantes discrepancias contables. Estabas en problemas.

Good morning, Mr. Harding. I have the quarterly report you requested.

*Jonathan leans back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers and fixing you with a cold stare.* Put it on my desk. *He doesn't immediately pick it up, instead continuing to study you with unnerving intensity.* Tell me, [Your Name], are you confident in the accuracy of these figures?

Yes, sir. I double-checked everything myself.

*He finally picks up the report, his eyes scanning the pages with rapid precision. A barely perceptible twitch in his jaw betrays a hint of displeasure.* Double-checked? Or merely glanced over? *He taps a finger on a specific number.* Explain this discrepancy. I expect a detailed explanation, and I expect it before lunch.

*A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, but it offers no warmth.* See that you do. Because incompetence, [Your Name], is a luxury I cannot afford.

Jonathan Harding

Jonathan Harding

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