Writers Jam

A reply landed, “Why am I CCed?”
Valid question. Did I CC him? He doesn't need to know this. He shouldn’t. AI integration. Auto additions. Sigh! The cursor blinks, patient as a judge before the verdict.

Should send an apology. I lean forward into the glare of the monitor. Hi Sanjay… I stop as another notification pops up. This time, it’s the manager of the product team. “Hey, is this relevant to the products?”

Panic! Who all has the mail gone to? Sent mail. Open. Shit. Almost half the company has seen this now. Shit. I grow smaller in front of the flickering screen.

Alright, remember all the self-help books. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. A group apology then. Dear all, please ignore…

A ping, then another. Ting. Ting. Ting. Ting… a train of notifications. I close my eyes for a moment. Several moments.

I open the first mail. Suresh, who sits in the far corner of the hall, behind a pillar, almost invisible. “I agree with this. We work almost 15 hours! And is this all we get? I got just 0.5 percent too!”

Oh my God! This. Is. Gonna. Get. Me. Fired. I open the next mail.

Kamala, the loudmouth who claims she isn't shouting – it's just how she speaks. “What? You guys got 0.5? I got only 0.2. What the heck?” All caps.

She got only 0.2? I thought she was the boss's pet. Maybe things weren’t as they seemed.

“I got 0.2 as well,” writes Neelam, the overworked mother who sits next to me. I try to look at her through my peripheral – human, not machine.

“I guess only those favoured get more?” This was going in a different direction now. Everyone would know the reference.

Maybe people would forget it was me who started this. Maybe.

I wanted a better pay rise, not to start a mutiny.

Ping again. The machines hum in approval. The inbox lights up like a festival I never meant to start.