Harold spent thirty years hoping his boss would finally notice him.
He arrived early.
He left late.
He volunteered for every impossible project.
The boss retired.
The new boss ignored him.
The next one forgot his name.
On Harold’s sixty-fifth birthday, HR invited him into a meeting.
“We’ve decided,” they said, smiling warmly, “to promote you.”
Harold burst into tears.
“Finally…”
They handed him a mop.
“Congratulations. You’re now Senior Caretaker.”
“…I was an accountant.”
“Not anymore.”
A quiet chamber behind the visible world.
We value your trust!
Your address is safe in the vault.
We’ll only use it to send you letters worth opening; no spells, no spam, no secret salesmen.
