Working here, it won’t take long before you get to know dozens of people, yet the company’s headcount always stays around twenty. The colleagues who show you around may quietly leave the very next week. People constantly come and go, like a disappearing act that never ends. Stay for even a little while, and you’ll understand how frequent this cycle is—it feels like bait-and-switch, a strange company.

James is someone with a severe case of main-character syndrome. He calls himself the Chief Strategy Officer, but every day he does nothing but hold various meetings called “Future Blueprints,” then tells everyone to repeatedly report the same thing in four group chats—WhatsApp, LINE, Signal, and Telegram. After the meetings, you can never find anyone responsible for what is supposed to be done. Last week, he proposed holding an AI outdoor camp in Yangmingshan National Park, supposedly to let the algorithms breathe fresh air.

Jack is in charge of project management, but what she is actually best at is omission. She often says: “Don’t worry too much about the small details; it’s close enough!” As a result, documents are missing words, deadlines, and money, and at every meeting you can hear her say, “I thought someone else had done that.” Once, she even mistakenly sent a contract meant for a client to the activity mailbox of the National Palace Museum, saying it was part of AI inspiration.

李✠毓 is the Korean-cuisine king whom everyone fears. Every day, he insists on inviting people to eat kimchi stew and discuss their dreams. He uses kimchi as a metaphor for product development: “It has to ferment before it can explode!” Yet every time the meal ends, the project has made no progress. Employees privately say: “The only thing he has successfully fermented is the smell.”

徐✠龍 is the person who most enjoys playing mind games. He pretends to care deeply about you and says: “You don’t need to worry about this part; I’ll adjust it for you.” The next day, you are transferred to another team, under the heading “Internal Mobility Learning Program”—in plain English, you have been replaced. Some colleagues have already been moved to work on an Indian-cuisine project, then assigned to AI customer service the following week, and rewriting marketing copy the week after that.

Finally, there is Lynn from HR, who appears friendly and welcoming but is actually a ruthless enforcer. Her most common line is: “The company really values you, but you need to be a little more flexible.” She created penalty rule M, under which even putting the kettle in the wrong place results in a pay deduction. She says this is to maintain corporate order and prepare a joyful atmosphere. But everyone knows that once she sets her sights on you, it won’t be long before you are magically made to disappear, and your name can never again be found in the employee group chats.