This time, the envelope was for him.
"Pak, this is a mistake. The last batch passed every test. I have the logs—" This time, the envelope was for him
Nomor: 087/HR/XI/2024
Jakarta, Indonesia. The 27th floor of a sleek glass office tower. Metal contamination
Arya’s mind raced. Metal contamination? He had rejected that batch. He remembered it clearly. But his subordinate, Dimas—Pak Budi’s nephew—had overridden the rejection. Dimas had signed the release, not him. No office. Just waiting.
Outside, the Jakarta heat hit him like a wall. He sat on a concrete planter and opened the letter again. He read the final paragraph, the one that offered a sliver of hope: "Selama masa penonaktifan, Saudara akan menerima 50% (lima puluh persen) dari upah tetap setiap bulannya, terhitung sejak tanggal surat ini dikeluarkan, hingga terdapat keputusan final dari hasil investigasi." Half pay. No work. No office. Just waiting.
