Chapter 1: Ctrl + Alt + F*ck This
Lila Hansen was five minutes into her Monday when the spreadsheet committed war crimes against her soul.
“Invalid formula,” it blinked again.
She blinked back.
Then whispered, “Same.”
Outside her cubicle window (a sad laminated print of an ocean someone had taped to the wall), Carol from Accounting was humming the funeral march. Lila wasn’t sure if that was her coping mechanism or just... prophecy.
Her life was a loop:
Wake up.
Coffee.
Commute while questioning all choices.
Sit at her desk and pretend Excel didn’t secretly hate her.
Copy-paste her way into existential despair.
Die a little every email.
Sleep.
Repeat.
That morning she’d spilled oat milk on her blouse, accidentally sent a heart emoji to her boss (“See you at the quarterly review ❤️”), and dropped her sandwich in the elevator. Peanut butter side down. Of course.
And now this spreadsheet.
The Spreadsheet of Doom™.
With trembling fingers and a rage-fueled heart, she clicked File > Save As > “WhyAmIStillHere_v78.xlsx”, then slowly turned to her desk plant—Francis the Fern—and whispered:
“If I don’t leave now, Francis, I’m going to snap and start reorganizing Carol’s teeth by dental code.”
Francis was silent. He’d died three weeks ago, but no one had noticed.
That was it. The final straw. Lila stood up so abruptly her office chair did that weird sproing noise and rolled away like it was quitting too.
Carol peeked around the corner. “Lila? You okay?”
Lila smiled, too wide. “I’m fantastic, Carol. I just realized—I’m not chained to this fluorescent-lit purgatory. I have choices. I have dreams. I have… rage.”
Carol blinked. “Is this about the oat milk again?”
“THIS IS ABOUT FREEDOM.”
She unplugged her monitor with a dramatic flourish (forgetting it was bolted down—so it just wobbled aggressively), grabbed her handbag, her dignity (half of it), and one very surprised stapler.
Then she marched past the break room with its always-broken coffee machine, past her manager who said “synergy” like it was a kink, and straight out the door.
The security guard waved. “Done for the day?”
“Done for life,” she grinned. “I quit.”
And just like that, Lila Hansen stepped into the blinding sunlight of a new future. Unemployed. Unhinged. Unapologetic.
She took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and typed into the search bar:
“Fun jobs for people who hate spreadsheets and want to feel alive again.”
Result #1: Euphoreal—Innovative Intimacy. We’re Hiring.
Seeking creative, open-minded individuals with strong opinions on pleasure.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Oh no.
Oh yes.
She clicked Apply. With trembling fingers. With wild curiosity. With exactly zero knowledge that she had just misclicked Product Experience Tester instead of Marketing Assistant.
And so, dear reader, began the tale of how Lila Hansen walked out of a soul-sucking job and into the throbbing heart (and hands-on HR department) of a luxury sex toy company.
