I bought an RV and parked it right below the office building just so I could get a decent nap during my lunch break. One of my male coworkers from the department walked up to me and stuck out his hand for the keys: "Look, you're working all afternoon anyway. Leaving the van sitting there is just a waste of resources. Why don't you give me the keys?" "My girlfriend and I have nowhere to go for some privacy. We’re colleagues, right? You wouldn't say no to a small favor like this? People who are too selfish don't last long in this industry." I was so angry I actually started laughing. I paid for that van in full with my own money. I pay for the gas. And now, suddenly, it’s supposed to be the company’s public lounge? I’m about to find out exactly who isn't going to "last long" around here. 1 Looking at my phone screen, I smirked. I re-read the text. Caleb was the "old grease" of our department—a guy who lived for petty handouts. He’d piggyback on your Starbucks order to get the discount but never pay you back, or ask you to carry his heavy Amazon packages up because "you were going that way anyway." I texted back: "Do you even know how much that rig cost? You’ve got a lot of nerve asking." Caleb’s reply came instantly. "Oh, come on, Avery. Don't be like that. We’re friends, aren't we?" "A vehicle is just a tool for transportation. It depreciates whether you use it or not." "I'm just trying to help you maximize your resources." "Besides, me and my girl just want to lay down for an hour. It’s not like I’m driving it away." "We sit in the same office every day. You're really not going to give me this much face?" I slammed my phone face down on the desk. Less than two minutes later, Caleb sauntered over to my cubicle. He held a Yeti tumbler with the company logo on it and gave me a crooked grin. "Hey, Avery. About what we talked about on text... what do you think?" He raised his voice, making sure it carried. A few coworkers nearby lifted their heads to watch. "My girlfriend’s been feeling under the weather lately. Slumping over a desk at noon is killing her back." "Think of it as a good deed. What’s the harm in letting us use the keys for two hours?" I spun my chair around and stared him down. "Caleb, your girlfriend’s health is your problem. What does it have to do with me?" "If I’m going to do a 'good deed,' it won't be for someone like you." "The van is my private property. The answer is no. Do you understand English?" The smile on Caleb’s face froze. He slammed his tumbler onto my desk with a loud thud. "Avery Smith, don't be so stuck-up. We’re coworkers. We have to see each other every day." "You think you’re better than everyone just because you could afford an RV? You think money gives you the right to look down on us?" "Everyone, listen to this! I just asked for a place to nap at lunch, and she’s acting like I asked for her kidney!" "Her van just sits there empty. Why is it so hard for her to be a decent human being?" A few colleagues started whispering. "Honestly, Avery, it wouldn't hurt to let him use it. You're working anyway." "Yeah, Caleb’s not a stranger. It’s just so everyone can be more refreshed for work." "Young people should be more generous. Don't ruin the office vibe over something small." I pulled out my phone, opened the photo of my purchase contract, and shoved the screen in Caleb’s face. "Look closely. $85,000 cash. With the interior mods, it’s over $100k." "Every cent of that came from my parents because they didn't want me exhausted at work. It has zero to do with this company." "You want a place to sleep? Great. Go buy your own rig. Sleep however you want." "And stop trying to guilt-trip me with this 'colleague' crap. It’s not working." Caleb pointed a shaking finger at my nose. "Fine, Avery. You’re rich, you’re the boss. Whatever." "We’ll see how long a selfish person like you lasts in this office!" He grabbed his tumbler and stormed off, kicking a trash can on his way out. 2 As soon as the afternoon shift started, I was called into the office by the HR Manager, Brenda. She sat there with a cold face, tapping a pen on her desk. "Avery, I’ve had reports from staff. Apparently, you’ve parked a large recreational vehicle downstairs." "People are saying it’s too big, it’s ruining the company’s professional image and messing up the parking flow." "And napping in a van during the day... it doesn't look good for us." "Even though lunch is your own time, you need to think about the optics." I reached into my bag and pulled out a document. "Brenda, first of all, the parking lot downstairs is managed by the building's property management, not the company." "This is a long-term lease I signed with them. I have a designated, private spot." "I specifically chose a corner spot so I wouldn't block anyone. And where I sleep at noon is my business. The Department of Labor doesn't mandate that employees have to sleep face-down on their keyboards, does it?" Brenda took the contract. The official notary stamp was hard to miss. Her expression shifted. "Well... the contract is fine, but this is a workplace..." "Caleb mentioned that your van is causing 'internal friction.' People feel like you're flaunting your wealth, making yourself out to be special." "How about this? Move the van, or hand the keys over to HR for safekeeping." "That way, if a colleague has a special need to rest, they can apply to use it." I almost laughed out loud. "Brenda, that van is my personal asset, not a company perk." "You want me to turn my private vehicle into a communal asset? Does that sound legal to you?" "If you think I’m flaunting wealth, are the executives downstairs going to donate their Porsches and Teslas too?" "If Caleb feels it’s unfair, tell him to go rent a spot and buy a tent. I don't care." Brenda was speechless. She finally waved me out. "Fine, fine. If the paperwork is legal, I can't stop you. Just... try to be a team player." I walked out of HR and ran into Caleb at the coffee station. He dodged my eyes for a second. I stood next to him and fixed a coffee. Caleb scoffed. "Think you’re hot stuff because you have a key?" "Everyone’s been in a nice car before. Let's see how long you can keep up this act." "A van sitting out there in the sun... it’d be a shame if it got scratched or dented." "The repair bill would probably cost more than your monthly salary, right?" I turned, looked him dead in the eye, and dropped my spoon into the cup. "Caleb, if you so much as touch my van, I’m calling the cops." "I’ll settle every old score and new grudge at once. We’ll see who ends up in the dirt." Caleb pulled his neck back like a turtle. But he wouldn't back down. "Who wants to touch your trashy van? Psycho." He scurried back to his desk. 3 Caleb didn't confront me again. But I felt his eyes on me constantly. Every time I looked up, he’d snap his head back to his monitor, pretending to work. Wednesday at noon, I went down to the van as usual. Shortly after I lay down, I heard movement outside. I peeled back the curtain a fraction of an inch. Caleb was circling my van. He was on the phone, his voice hushed. "Yeah, babe, just hang in there. I'm working on it." "The girl is too stingy. Won't budge." "It's fine. The locks on these things aren't that great. I’ll figure it out." He walked to the driver-side door and tugged the handle. When it didn't open, he pressed his face against the glass, his fingers picking at the trim. I grabbed my key fob and hit the Panic button. The alarm blared through the parking garage. Caleb jumped back a good five feet, looking around wildly. I pushed the door open and stood on the steps, looking down at him. "Caleb? What are you doing lurking around my car?" "Planning to boost it? There are cameras everywhere. You really want to do a stint in county jail?" Caleb froze, then his face turned a deep, blotchy red. He squared his shoulders. "Who's stealing? Don't go throwing accusations around!" "I was just walking by. Can't a guy look? Do you own the pavement now?" "Besides, you're the one trying to give me a heart attack with that alarm!" I hopped down, crossing my arms. "Walking by? You were pulling that handle pretty hard for a 'passerby.'" "What, were you hoping for a miracle? That it would just pop open for you?" "I'm warning you, stay away from my van. If I find a single scratch on it, it’s coming out of your hide." Caught red-handed, Caleb’s face turned even darker. He pointed at me, stuttering. "Fine. You think you're so tough." "You think you can guard this thing 24/7? Good luck." He turned and bolted. 4 Back at the office, he started playing the victim. He was sighing loudly among a group of female coworkers. "I don't know what to do. My girlfriend has such bad cramps today, she can barely stand." "I just wanted a place for her to lie down and have some hot tea." "Avery is just so cold-blooded. She watches people suffer and does nothing." "It’s not like I wouldn't pay. Am I the type of guy to take advantage of people?" The women started chiming in. "Wait, her cramps are that bad? Poor thing." "Avery really is being a bit much. It’s a huge van. One hour wouldn't hurt." "Exactly. We're all women here. Where's the empathy?" I walked in and felt the daggers in their eyes. One woman spoke up. "Avery, we heard about your RV. Must be nice." "But we shouldn't be so selfish. Caleb’s girlfriend is really struggling." "Just do a good deed for once. Let them use it. Everyone would appreciate it." I threw my bag on the desk and scanned the room. "Are you the parking police? Or my accountant?" "If his girlfriend is in that much pain, he should take her to the ER, not my van." "Is my van a hospital now? Does lying down in it cure medical conditions?" "If you guys are so empathetic, why don't you let her lie down at your desks? Or better yet, why don't you all chip in and get her a suite at the Four Seasons? I won't stop you." Silence. Caleb walked over and pulled a ten-dollar bill from his pocket. "Avery, I know you think I'm a free-loader." "Fine. Here. Take it. Consider it rent." "Ten bucks for a 'cleaning fee.' Me and my girl just need one hour." "Now you have nothing to complain about. We're colleagues. Don't push things too far." I swiped the bill off my desk and let it flutter to the floor without looking at it. "Caleb, take that ten dollars and go buy yourself some Gatorade. You clearly need to hydrate your brain." "The van is not for rent. Not for any price." "If you harass me one more time, I’m asking the boss for a desk move." Caleb stared at the money on the floor. His expression turned ugly. He knelt down, picked it up, and hissed under his breath. "Stingy bitch. Someone’s gonna wreck that trashy van of yours eventually." It was quiet, but I heard it. 5 That evening, I found a pile of trash dumped next to my front tire. And there it was—a long, jagged scratch across the door. It caught the light perfectly. I knew it was him. I took a deep breath. I didn't blow up in the group chat. Instead, I went on Amazon and ordered a high-end hidden camera system. I installed it inside the cabinet trim, angled perfectly toward the door and the bed area. I even hooked it up to a backup battery. As I checked the live feed on my phone, I let out a cold laugh. "Caleb, if you’d stayed in your lane, I would’ve let this go." "But if you really put your hands inside my home... I’m going to ruin you." Friday afternoon, just before clock-out, I "accidentally" dropped a package. Caleb practically sprinted over to help me pick it up. "Oh, Avery, let me get that. You shouldn't be doing the heavy lifting," he said, beaming. "Listen, I’m sorry about my attitude the other day. Let’s not let it get between us, okay? We’re all here to work. No need for bad blood." Looking at his fake smile, my heart sank, but I nodded. "Sure. Let’s move on." Caleb’s eyes flickered with a strange glint. "By the way, we have a huge client coming in Monday. The boss wants you to prep the materials. You’ll probably have to run out to the industrial park in the suburbs to drop off some samples. I saw the admin sent the itinerary to your email." I checked my inbox. There it was: a delivery task at an industrial park on the outskirts of town. It was a remote area, at least a three or four-hour round trip. The timing was tight—right in the middle of the Monday lunch hour. I caught Caleb out of the corner of my eye. He was looking at his phone, a tiny, triumphant smirk tugging at his lips.
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