workflow
Workflow explores the everyday lives of every career imaginable.Whatever your job or position may be, your story has a unique way to be told and shared.
The 5 AM Myth: Why I Trashed My Alarm Clock to Finally Find My Edge. AI-Generated.
The blue light of the smartphone screen felt like a laser beam hitting my retinas at 4:58 AM. Outside my window, the world was a bruised purple—silent, freezing, and utterly indifferent to my "ambition."
By George Evanabout 8 hours ago in Journal
The Gate We All Walk Through
I didn’t realize I’d disappeared until I saw my reflection and didn’t recognize myself. It wasn’t sudden. It was slow—a word silenced here, an opinion softened there, a laugh forced to match the room. I traded pieces of myself for acceptance, like coins dropped into a vending machine that never gave back what I paid for.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Keeper of Secrets
I didn’t go in for a book. I went in to escape the rain. It was a gray Tuesday in March, the kind of day that presses down on your chest like a wet blanket. I’d just received news I wasn’t ready for—a job lost, a relationship frayed, the quiet unraveling of plans I’d spent years building. I walked without direction, shoulders hunched, until I saw it: a narrow storefront with a flickering “Open” sign and a window full of leaning paperbacks.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Last Game of the Season
I didn’t go for the win. I went because it was the last game. The gym was packed—folding chairs lined the walls, parents stood in the back, and the buzz of nervous energy hung thick in the air. Two rival high schools, decades of history, one championship on the line. But I wasn’t there for the trophy. I was there for my nephew, who’d spent all season riding the bench.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Man Who Fixed the Clock
I didn’t notice the clock was broken until it stopped. It sat on the corner shelf of my grandparents’ living room for as long as I could remember—brass, ornate, with Roman numerals and a soft, steady tick that marked the rhythm of every visit. My grandfather wound it every Sunday without fail, even in his nineties, even when his hands shook.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Boy Who Carried the Ball Home
I didn’t go to the game for the score. I went because my nephew asked me to. He’s twelve, wears his hair in a messy bun, and talks about basketball like it’s a secret language only he and the ball understand. “It’s not about winning,” he’d said, eyes bright. “It’s about who shows up when it matters.”
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
Setting Sails for 2026
The first days of January are often quieter in hospitality. The rush of the festive season fades, dining rooms return to a more familiar rhythm, and the intensity that defines the end of the year slowly settles. Yet responsibility does not disappear with the celebrations. If anything, it becomes more visible.
By Cristian Marino8 days ago in Journal
