Ballon d’or or die [Slice of Life, sports litrpg]

"I knew you could do it, Nick! You always deliver. If only half my employees were as competent as you. Haha"

I handed over my report to the potbellied man seated in front of me, Jeff. His praise did nothing to uplift my exhausted mood, only making me wonder if he had a few screws missing.

‘You expect them to take this job with no incentives seriously?’

Jeff is a prime example of what first-generation founders should avoid at all costs - appointing incompetent relatives to key positions. As the nephew of the majority shareholder, he had made it his mission to not give him an excuse to fire him.

With his extremely risk-averse management style, he’s happy to have the department stagnate as long as it means he doesn’t commit any blunders. Coupled with an overly dedicated employee who brings in opportunities by himself, me, his time here has been smooth sailing.

‘What a blessed life, indeed’

“I am pleased to know that you find the report satisfactory, Jeff. Since I had to spend quite a few sleepless nights trying to meet a deadline I wasn’t informed of before, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind marking an exceeded expectations in my upcoming performance review”

He burst out laughing, “Haha, an excellent joke, Nick. You are well aware of my policy of not marking anyone as exceeded expectations as it implies that I’m unable to predict my employees’ competency accurately. I already knew you were extremely competent”

I held back a sigh as I cursed at whatever ‘guru’ he had gleaned that piece of knowledge from, ‘God, why did they have to assign this retard to the analysis team?’

FBCS, my current employer, is a comprehensive football consulting service aimed towards smaller professional football clubs participating in the Championship league, who can't afford to hire dedicated staff for everything and would rather outsource whatever they can.

Established 5 years ago, the then-young startup was the first of its kind, casting its net wide and deep by targeting the clubs in the second division, i.e. Championship League, instead of the Premier League.

‘It’s apparent that the owner has business acumen, why did he assign Jeff here? This is one of the major engines of the organization. Maybe his hand was forced, whatever’

I was broken out of my musings by Jeff, “Nick? Can you hear me? Nick!"

"Wha?! Oh, forgive me, it seems I'm quite spent. If you don't mind I'd like to take the rest of this week off"

He nodded, “Clearly. Go ahead and take some rest. Be sure to be available for any follow-ups. Also, please have the auxiliary report ready when you get back"

I doubted my hearing for a second, “Sir? I’m afraid I won't be available to work on that since I’ll be off work"

He brushed off my objection, "It's just the auxiliary report, Nick. I'm sure with your efficiency you can get it done in a few hours"

I sighed for the umpteenth time this week, "Sure"

"OK. Enjoy your days off!"

I swiftly saw myself out of his cabin after giving him a curt nod as I had a hard time holding myself back from punching his foolishly grinning face. Sometimes, I wondered if he would fire me if I socked him in the face.

‘I might really do that if I ever leave this hellhole’

Sighing, I reminisced about my previous superior, Chris. He was Jeff's predecessor, responsible for the error correction and final review of the reports our department produced. As an extremely competent leader, almost all of my expertise could be traced back to him.

As a struggling student dangerously close to graduating from college while still scrambling to secure a job, it was Chris who saw potential in me. As the company was still considered quite new and unstable back then, a majority of my peers hadn’t considered it.

As I had run out of choices, I decided to take a gamble on this exciting organization, and Chris, which did wonders for my bank account. If only he hadn’t been fired to make way for Jeff.

'F*****g nepotism', I pulled out my smartphone to text Mike while heading back to my office to wrap up,

[Nick: Hey, I will get off of work in a bit. See you at our usual spot?]

------Frank's Toasty Bar-------

*Slam*

"That hits the spot! Frank! Keep 'em coming!"

"Comin' right up!", came the reply in a gruff voice.

Peering at my watch informed me that they should be arriving anytime now.

I casually swept my eyes across the various posters of football legends adorning the bar walls - Zidane, Beckham, Ronaldo, Pele, Yashin, and so many more as I recalled my naive and younger self believing that he too could reach them by working hard, ‘Tsk, it was all talent at the end’

"Hey, Nick! You got the party started already!"

Broken out of my bitter thoughts by a familiar voice, I turned around just in time to witness Mike accidentally bump into an intoxicated gentleman while approaching me with Matt in tow. His 6'3" frame made sure that the inebriated stranger planted his face on the floor.

"Sorry! Are you ok mate?” Mike apologized as he bent down to help him up. Looking up at the well-built and towering Mike, the man visibly held himself back as he picked himself up and left with a scoff.

"Rude!"

Both Matt and I rolled our eyes at him, "He probably would've thrown hands if it was our Thumbelina here that bumped into him"

I reflexively jumped back to avoid the lightning-quick kick at my shins, before grinning, “This ain't my first rodeo-". My mocking was interrupted by remarkably strong arms hooking around my neck and pulling me into a chokehold, "Didn't expect you to fall for that one anyway"

I tapped his arms a couple of times, which Matt took as a sign of surrender, squeezing one last time to assert his dominance and loosening his forearms.

"Is that how you're gonna greet me after disappearing for over 3 months? Do you have any idea how many assists I've missed out on because there was no one to convert them?"

'Damn, he is quite pissed. Letting Mike call him might have not been the best move'

I coughed to clear my throat, “That was a good one. Our dobby has grown up" and acted out wiping away tears while Mike did his best to not laugh, which made his strangely distorted face even funnier.

I guffawed until my sides were aching as even Matt gave up on me and rolled his eyes, “Alright, alright. Get it all out of your system. And let's sit down at least"

'Haaa, when was the last time I laughed so hard?'

///// Author's Notes

Whew, I don't know what happened, but I ended up dragging out the initial part of the story. 

Assist: This is a statistic given to a player who made the last pass to the goal-scoring player.

Hope you enjoyed reading :)