Date: February 23, 2025

  Somewhere in the universe, an alternate version of me probably had a quiet, uneventful week. This version of me? Not so much.

  Between a client presentation that could determine whether TechJolt lands more high-profile deals, my friends turning my work drama into a group chat saga, and my mom launching a full-scale interrogation over dinner, I have officially given up on the idea of a stress-free existence.

  But let’s start with the most important thing: I have a second nickname now.

  The Presentation That Almost Wasn’t

  Today was the big client presentation—the one that would set the tone for future partnerships. If we nailed this, it could open doors for bigger, higher-profile accounts. If we didn’t… well, I didn’t want to think about that.

  The day started with Hannah calling an emergency meeting at 9 a.m.

  “We’ve got a problem.” She paced at the front of the room, coffee in one hand, an air of controlled urgency in the other.

  “The dataset we pulled for the client presentation has a discrepancy. Their internal numbers don’t match ours.”

  Cue collective groans.

  “Do we know where the issue is?” Ethan asked, calm as ever.

  Hannah shook her head. “Not yet. Ada, Leo, I need you two to dig into the query logic. Samantha, double-check the client’s data dump. Eric, you’re on standby for anything technical.”

  I exchanged a glance with Leo, who grinned like this was just another fun little puzzle instead of a potential disaster for the company’s credibility. “Ready to save the day, SQL Samurai?”

  I groaned. “This is better than Spoon Girl, but barely.”

  But Leo just smirked. I was officially stuck with it.

  And if I wasn’t already sweating from the data disaster, I definitely was now—because I was presenting today too.

  I could not afford to screw this up.

  Debugging Gauntlet, aka How I Became SQL Samurai

  Leo and I spent the next two hours poring over queries, retracing every step, trying to find where things had gone wrong. My head was spinning with joins, subqueries, and nested case statements.

  “This is a nightmare,” I muttered, tapping furiously at my keyboard.

  Leo smirked. “Think of it as a murder mystery. The victim is the dataset, and we’re hunting the killer.”

  “Great analogy,” I deadpanned. “Except in this case, the killer is probably me.”

  “Unlikely,” he said. “You’re too detail-oriented to mess this up. My money’s on Eric.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Eric isn’t even touching this part.”

  Leo grinned. “Exactly. That’s what makes him suspicious.”

  Despite the sheer panic simmering under my skin, I had to admit: working with Leo was weirdly fun. His jokes somehow made the whole thing feel manageable—like it was just another part of the job instead of a crisis that could tank our credibility.

  By 11:30, we’d found the issue—a typo in one of the field mappings.

  “Fixed it,” I said, running the updated query.

  “Nice work,” Leo said, leaning back in his chair. “Told you it wasn’t your fault.”

  The Presentation & The Aftermath

  With the data corrected, we did a final run-through of the slides. By 1 p.m., everything was ready. Or so we thought.

  “Where’s the clicker for the projector?” Hannah asked as we were setting up in the conference room.

  Cue a frantic search that involved checking every drawer, bag, and random corner of the office.

  “Guess we’re doing this the old-fashioned way,” Hannah sighed, as if we were reverting to using parchment paper, and grabbed a laptop to manually advance the slides.

  Before the meeting started, she turned to us. “This client is the big fish this year. If we get them locked in, it sets us up for even bigger deals. No pressure.”

  Despite the chaos, the presentation went off without a hitch. Hannah nailed the opening, Ethan handled the deep dive flawlessly.

  And then it was my turn.

  This was my first time presenting to a client, and the pressure was immense. My hands were steady, but internally, I could feel imposter syndrome creeping in.

  What if I messed up? What if I stumbled over my words? What if they saw right through me and realized I didn’t belong here?

  I took a breath, glanced at Leo, who gave me a subtle thumbs-up, and forced myself to push the doubt aside.

  The data was strong. The analysis was solid. The client seemed engaged.

  By the time I finished, my nerves had settled, and I felt something close to relief.

  Back at the office, we celebrated with takeout pizza and soda.

  “Good job, everyone,” Hannah said, raising her Diet Coke like a toast. “Special shoutout to Ada for stepping up during the presentation.”

  I felt my face heat up as everyone clapped.

  “Don’t let it go to your head, SQL Samurai,” Leo teased, his grin just a little too satisfied.

  I sighed. “This nickname is never going away, is it?”

  “Nope.”

  Brunch, Friends, and a Group Chat I Didn’t Ask For

  By the weekend, I had just barely recovered from the presentation when I met up with my best friends, Naomi and Elena, for brunch.

  Naomi, who works as a lawyer at her father’s firm, was already in full interrogation mode before I even sat down.

  “So, are we going to talk about this office rom-com you’re apparently starring in?”

  I groaned. “Not you too.”

  Elena smirked. “What? It’s a valid question. You’re basically in a startup K-drama.”

  “I’m in a workplace,” I corrected. “Not a rom-com.”

  Naomi wasn’t buying it. “And yet, somehow, you already have a nickname?”

  I sighed, launching into the story of the client presentation and Leo’s latest attempt at branding me.

  Naomi smirked. “Sounds like he likes you.”

  I groaned. “He's literally the office flirt, and he just likes messing with me.”

  By the time I finished, Naomi had already created a group chat called ‘SQL Samurai Chronicles.’

  Sunday Dinner & The Family Interrogation

  Sunday evening meant family dinner, which meant too much food and too many questions.

  Mom made Nikujaga, and Dad hovered in the kitchen, taste-testing everything under the guise of ‘helping.’

  Hiro, my older brother, was already smirking at me from across the table.

  “How’s work?” Mom asked as she ladled food into our bowls.

  “It’s good,” I said. “Busy, but good.”

  “Busy is good,” Dad said. “Means they trust you.”

  Hiro raised an eyebrow. “Or it means you keep breaking things, and they have to keep an eye on you.”

  “That happened once,” I shot back.

  Then, inevitably—“Are there any nice boys at work?”

  I groaned. “Not you too.”

  Hiro snorted. “Wow, everyone’s asking? This must be serious.”

  Mom, unbothered, kept stirring her soup. “It’s a good place to meet people. You’re young, smart, and beautiful—someone’s bound to notice.”

  I stared very hard on my rice.

  “I’m focused on work,” I mumbled.

  Mom wasn’t convinced.

  Evening Reflections

  Work can be chaotic, but so can life outside of it. I think I need both.

  As much as I hate the nickname, SQL Samurai is at least better than Spoon Girl.

  Until next time,Ada W.