THE PAINTED MASK

On Monday morning, the office was really full. The typing on the keyboards, the printing on the printers, the ringing of the phones you name it. Everyone appeared to be concentrated, transitioning between the offices with their polite and friendly smiles. I was at my desk with my own smile. Anyone who saw me from the corner of his eye would say that I was one of those people who had a perfect day, and everything was okay. But I was in a total different mood inside my "shell".

Image from OpenAi

Honestly, I really didn't like this place. I couldn't stand the phony laughs, the superficial talks, or the fact that everybody acted as if they cared. However, my dislike for Daniel was more than my hatred for the rest of them.

He was just two rows away from me. Generally, he was very noisy, very self-assured, and very popular with the crowd. People would joke and greet him if he barged into a meeting late. If I was five minutes late, I would be sent a reprimand letter.

I was really annoyed at the way people clung to everything he said. In fact, quite a lot of his things, he was merely telling what I had said in those small meetings. Everything he said was always brilliant. And when I spoke, it was only “interesting” that people called it. "Good morning, Clara," with that charming smile, Daniel strolled by my desk as usual. Shirt ironed. Tie properly. Hair as if he was just from a fashion shoot.

“Morning,” I answered, forcing my lips into a curve.

He really had no clue. He assumed that I, just like all the other people, was in awe of him. This is the point about masks. They conceal what is authentic. And what was authentic for me was: I could not get the memory of the previous year's presentation out of my mind. I had put in a lot of work for that proposal few nights of sleep, writing over and over, practicing each word. When the important day arrived, it was Daniel who went up to the boardroom and delivered my ideas. Exactly the same words as I had practised.They applauded. They congratulated him. They even murmured about getting higher positions. I was there, with a grin on my face and clapping like all the others, but there was this little voice inside me that was breaking.

That was the day I learned: effort doesn’t matter. Presentation does.

So I started wearing a mask too. Smiling. Nodding. Helping. All while holding back the anger burning inside.

But hatred doesn’t stay small. It spreads. It colored everything around me. Soon it wasn’t only Daniel I hated. It was the whole system. The way charm was rewarded, while quiet voices were ignored.

Count
Humanize
One afternoon Daniel simply dropped a folder on my desk. "Could you have a look at this report?" His voice was light, casual, as if he was doing me a favor.

"Sure," I said, returning his light tone with a smile.

He never knew the part of me that wanted to throw it back at him.
Days turned to weeks. I still wore my mask. But I was still planning inside. I promised myself I wouldn't let the hate-style consume me. On the other hand, I recognized that I didn't want to release it either. It was the thing that kept me alive. It was the thing that kept me ready.

Then came the annual review meeting. The big one. Promotions. Recognition. I knew Daniel’s name would be called. Everyone did. But this time, I wasn’t going to sit quietly.

When my turn came, I stood at the front of the room. My slides were ready. My voice steady. I started with the polite smile they all expected.

But halfway through, something shifted.

“You know,” I said, “I’ve worked here for three years. And I’ve learned something about success in this office.”

The room grew still.

“It’s not really about hard work,” I said. “It’s not about originality either. It’s about who talks the loudest. Who looks the most confident. Who can take someone else’s idea and sell it like it’s their own.”

Whispers moved across the room. Daniel shifted in his chair.

“I’ve watched people clap for stolen ideas,” I continued. “I’ve watched the quiet ones ignored while the polished ones rise. And all this time, I’ve played along. I’ve smiled. I’ve kept the mask on. But I’m done.”

I closed my laptop. My hands shook, but my voice didn’t. “So if you want to reward charm, go ahead. If you want to promote the mask, that’s fine. Just know not everyone here is fooled.”

Silence. Heavy and sharp. Then someone whispered, “She’s right.”

I didn’t wait for applause. I didn’t wait for approval. I walked back to my seat, mask gone. For the first time, they saw the truth.

That night, lying in bed, I replayed it again and again. Part of me worried I had gone too far. Maybe I had ruined my chances here. But another part of me felt lighter.

For once, I hadn’t just smiled through my hatred. I had spoken it. Let it out. It might cost me. But at least it was real.

Sometimes, the truth matters more than the mask.