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| Brightly lit corporate office on a Friday afternoon with employees working at their desks |
Intro:
Friday afternoons in corporate offices often carry a unique mix of pressure, exhaustion, and anticipation. This is the story of Gustavo, his team, and the clock that measures both their work and their freedom.
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The Pressure of SLAs
The chatter of voices, the clicking of mice, and the clacking of keyboards fill the office on a Friday afternoon. Employees push through the final hours of the week, racing to meet their department’s Service Level Agreements (SLAs) before the clock strikes five.
At his desk, Gustavo takes a slow sip of coffee. The cup warms his hands against the steady blasts of the air-conditioning that chill the office. He works at an even pace, glancing often at the clock on the wall.
Gaspar notices. “You’re done already?!” he asks, jacket pulled tight around him.
“Nope,” Gustavo replies, calm as ever.
Gaspar shakes his head. “Last week was calm—no accidents. Now we’re drowning in claims.”
Around them, the Motor Vehicle Claims team is buzzing. Colleagues rush paperwork across the floor. Phones ring. Supervisors push their teams harder. The weight of client demands and looming SLA targets hangs heavy in the air.
But Gustavo? He just keeps glancing at the clock. Tick. Tock. Freedom creeping closer.
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Team Camaraderie in the Chaos
Mark, the manager’s manager, makes his rounds, reminding everyone that numbers don’t look good. Ayan, Gustavo’s supervisor, gathers the group for updates. Gaspar, overwhelmed, sighs: “This is too much. I’ll finish the emails after hours.”
Slowly, one by one, the team agrees to overtime. The cold air of the office begins to warm with solidarity. And from the corner, that familiar laugh breaks the tension.
“Hehehe,” Gustavo chuckles, still watching the clock.
“So, you’re done?” Ayan asks him.
“You know how I work,” he smirks, reminding her of the years when they were just colleagues, before she became his boss. She smiles back, grateful for his steady presence.
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The Countdown to Five
At last, the clock hits five.
Gustavo shuts down his computer, slings his bag over his shoulder, and stands. “What are you all still doing here?! It’s Friday! Let’s get the hell outta here! What are you, a bunch of NERDS?!”
Laughter breaks the tension. For a moment, the workweek feels lighter. Even Mark and Ayan smile.
“See you Monday,” Mark says.
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| MAn standing quietly on yhe sidewalk at sunset as commuters rush past |
When the Workday Ends
By the time Gustavo reaches the lobby, the corporate weight has slipped off his shoulders. The security guard wishes him a good weekend, and he steps outside.
The late afternoon sun greets him, warm against skin that has spent all day under the office chill. Around him, people hurry toward family, friends, and plans for the night.
Gustavo lingers on the sidewalk, clutching his bag. The warmth is there, but it doesn’t reach him. He looks at the fading light.
The words stay inside, heavy and quiet, as he steps into the evening.
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