The Carpool Queen

On my very first day at work, I received an unexpected "Carpool Request":

"I am currently 3 weeks pregnant. Since I don't know how to drive and for the safety of my baby, I require my colleagues to take turns picking me up and dropping me off."

"After some research, I found that your car is worth a lot of money, and it’s less than a year old, meeting my standards for a suitable ride. You will be responsible for driving me home today after work."

"I don’t work overtime, so please pack up your things before clock-out time and leave the office on schedule."

I frowned and immediately replied:

"If you have no shame, I’m happy to donate it to someone who truly needs it!"

Less than half an hour after completing my onboarding for my new job, I received a private message from someone named Summer Yates on WhatsApp.

I clicked on her profile. She was listed as an HR specialist.

I immediately understood. When I registered for a vehicle entry permit earlier, they made a copy of my car registration for their records. It was no surprise that she knew my vehicle details.

However, as I recalled the faces of the HR staff I had met, none struck me as being this shameless.

The next second, I heard a loud voice cursing from not far away. "Old Lou! How many times have I told you? I'm pregnant! I can't stand the smell of smoke!"

I glanced over and saw a sign on the door that said 'Smoking Room'.

A man's voice responded, "Summer, don't push it. You came into the smoking room to read your novel, and now you're complaining?

"'The CEO's Eight Babies: Daddy's Over-the-Top Love'? You seriously think that's something normal people should be reading?"

Summer shrieked, "What do you know? This is prenatal education! And look at you, driving that junky old second-hand Santana! You think you even qualify to give me a ride?"

With that, she slammed the door open and exaggeratedly fanned the air with one hand. She scrolled through her phone with the other, rolled her eyes, and strutted out.

Not long after, her eyes suddenly widened as she shouted across the office, "Who's Sophia Taylor?!"

My heart skipped a beat. I quickly lowered my head and pretended to be busy.

When I finally looked up again, she was already standing beside me, shoving her phone screen in my face and jabbing her finger at the reply I had sent her. She wore a smug expression. "You think you're funny, huh? A young girl like you talking so rudely? You understood my message, right? Don't sit here pretending to be hardworking after work. Leave immediately, got it? I still have to go home and cook for my husband! He can't eat dinner past seven. It's bad for his stomach."

I was already at my breaking point, but considering it was my first day and the fact that she was pregnant, I forced myself to stay calm.

With a polite smile, I said, "Sorry, Summer, my driving skills are terrible. I can't even tell the gas pedal from the brake, and I love slamming on the brakes. Wouldn't want to startle your baby, now would we?"

She immediately clutched her belly in alarm, looking displeased. "If you can't drive, what are you doing with an Audi?"

I was about to explain, but she gave me another once-over and then lowered her voice conspiratorially, as if she had me all figured out. "Judging by your age, that car of yours… probably didn't come from an honest source, did it? Tsk tsk, young girls these days…"

Before I could argue, she turned and called out, "Harold! Didn't your car go in for repairs? Today, you're driving Sophia's car and taking me home!"

'Wow. You've really got it all arranged, huh?'

After Summer left, I furiously typed out 'Don't Get Angry' 30 times to calm myself down.

Her pregnancy was basically a get-out-of-jail-free card.

I told myself to endure it. Otherwise, if anything happened to her, she would pin the blame on me.

With that settled, I sent my dad a message.

[Dad, I don't want to drive the Audi anymore. Please, I'm begging you. Get me a crappy car, the most low-key one possible.]

He replied instantly. [Got it! My daughter's grown up. She's finally stopped chasing vanity. Your uncle has a car that's about to be scrapped.]

[Perfect! I'll take it!]

After being infuriated by that woman on my very first day at work, I had zero motivation left. Once the car situation was sorted, I opened my chat list and started venting to my friends.

Before I knew it, the day had slipped by.

I planned to loiter at my desk for a while, waiting for Summer to leave before clocking out.