midnight meetings with your married coworker? fucking standard 🕰️📉✨

a warning story in fiduciary theater

✨🕰️✨

this is giving:
what kind of “professional”
invites a married recruit
to their apartment at 11pm,
doesn’t sell shit,
and then holds the
fucking wife’s newborn
a few weeks later?

strap in. 💫
here we fucking go:

(bro
first off,
tell me
i actually blacked
half this shit
completely out—
because of
the fucking trauma
and violence
that exploded
during this
exact fucking period.)

but fuck,
now i got the records…
so let’s go the fuck in—

✨

just a
quick question,
because you really
had me
believing this was safe—
and i’m asking
for the entire
girlboss economy:

after reviewing
the shit-ton
of brand new
documented records
i’ve extracted
from the goddamn dead—

listen…

is it normal—
like,
industry-standard,✨
compliance-approved,
regulated-firm-certified normal—
to host your
brand-new married
male coworker
at your private apartment
until nearly midnight,
because you're
allegedly
doing “group work”
with “higher-ups”
and some vague cast
of senior finance guys
citing sales shit—
that,
weirdly enough,
never seem to appear✨
in any sales logs
and never seem to
generate
any commission?

(although,
i see now
i was constantly
promised 💫
dates and amounts
of bonuses
from all these
”meetings”
were coming in)

shit, spoiler:
they never did.
nah instead?
he just drained
my life savings instead—
while choking me out.

because i trusted
your goddamn system.

🤨🧾✨

because
baby—
at the time?
i was sitting at home.
puking and pregnant.
trusting the fucking process,
because this firm—
apparently has
zero fucking oversight.
while they
induced me into,
paying all the bills.
nah—
just here at residence,
feeding the dog.
budgeting for groceries.
waiting for the man
who told me
he was
“at a professional development session” 💫
with “team leads.”
and you—
his supposed
professional peer —
were allegedly
hosting him.
lmfao.
WOW.
but…

zero business produced?—
from team pow-wows
at basically
midnight?

💫

shit babe,
he’s over here
dropping actual names,
quoting direct meetings,
but generating
absolutely
zero
fucking
business.

that night? 💫

he talked in circles,
”i’m coming”
”we’re all here”
babe,
and he promised
to bring me
something special.
a little treat.
on the way home.
you know,
specifically misled
my ass,
into thinking
he’d go out of his way—
for me,
you know,
straight manipulation.
but turns out?
bro stopped at 7-Eleven.
and came back
with basically nothing.

in the
near early fucking morning—

from a
work meeting?
at a female colleague’s?
with “the crew?”
and this bitch
then—
signed on 💫
fucking willingly,
without my request—
to be my
professional financial
contact point?
and fucking representative?
signed me up
for all my
life insurance policies?
acquired all my fucking
medical documents?
including my newborns—
while in or
barely fucking
out of the goddamn hospital?

but y’all didn’t…know shit?

come on.
just stop
shut up—
that’s blatant fucking bullshit.

babe,
a coworker—
drove her to my fucking home—
while i was still
in a goddamn diaper
from fucking childbirth.

yo.
you’re fucking liars.
the goddamn fucking audacity.
the fucking
professional violations—
left and fucking right.

yeah,
i feel violated as fuck.
and we almost
didn’t
fucking—
make it.

no fucking joke.

fuck.

ok.
and you all knew.
you made jokes—
knowing i was footing
the fucking bill
while pregnant—
and then ✨
saw me in real life.
repeatedly—
at parties
at the office.

💫

so…
i’m just wondering:
was that…
compliance-approved behavior?

are those
late-night meetings,
at her apartment—
on the formal record?

because i wanna see them.
like immediately.

lol.

✨

yo.
you created this—
y’alls business structure,
was so fucking vague
so shapeless—
so fucking ambiguous…

i was like—
ok, bro
do what
you need to do—
to get those sales.
because i’m not jealous,
and i trusted this whole
fucking system, to protect me.✨
and look—
i’ve personally witnessed
this group of fuckfaces
encourage✨
this fucking relationship—
and the
constant “sales talks,”
so i guess
this shit is kosher?
—right?

some reasonable explanations?

💫

because let’s zoom out:

✶ brand-new married rep.
✶ no book of business.
✶ no sales to show for these “late nights.”
✶ consistent references to “working late with you.”
✶ and then later?
✶ you become my consultant.
✶ with access to all my files.
✶ while we’re still married.
✶ while i’m giving birth.
✶ while you come into my home,
✶ without ever contacting me—
✶ while you’re watching my daughter grow up on instagram.
✶ making little weird ass comments,
✶ and you never once, in your professional capacity, disclose the conflict.

🤔✨

so help me understand:
is this how regulated finance works now?

because either:

a) y’all were doing ✨deep-dive financial strategy
in your apartment at 11:30pm,
no sales,
no deliverables,
no outputs

or

b) someone was
lying to someone✨
about where they were,
what they were doing,
and who was present—
while using the firm as cover
with specific names,
and “strategy”
to sustain an inappropriate relationship
under the guise of career advancement
while a pregnant woman
footed the fucking bill,
and then handed over her financials—
to the same fucking woman.

but like,
your stance is—
no one fucking noticed? 💫

lol.
nah.
incorrect.

and honestly?

babe—

i hope it was option A.
i really do.
i hope every single name dropped
in those alibis checks out.
the constant late nights,
that made zero sense—
because i have records.
and i’m building a timeline.
and if these “meetings”
that produced zero income,
weren’t meetings 💫—
if they were just brand-safe
sleepovers in business-casual disguise —
then the question
isn’t “was it ethical?”
the question is:
who the fuck supervised it?

and why the fuck✨—
did she sign on
to my
fucking account?

for policies,
that mysteriously
fucking lapsed?
the exact time period,
she’s presumably ✨
(you won’t tell me that
material fact lmfao)
fucking
straight bounced
with zero record—
from my file?

…

and wait…
funniest part?
all this late night shit,
undisclosed meetings—
were happing
at the exact point
in fucking time
down to the days—
he RANDOMLY—
out of fucking nowhere,
with zero prior history,
starts trying to
straight up
murder my pregnant ass?

LMFAO.

this is fucked.

and the answer
to that
supervision question— ✨
so far?
absolutely
fucking no one.

nah.
nope.

✨

and yet
here we are.
now estranged—
two protection orders. 💫
a felony DV case.
no financials submitted.
no contact with his child.
in almost a year
and still —
no clear disclosure,
after my new rep,
thought it was funny
to make a joke—
on how i trusted your
dumb ass fucking bullshit—
but nah
zero clarification
or any material facts—
about how this all started
or how deep it ran.

but i’ll say this:

girlie✨—

if you invited
my husband
to your apartment
for a “work session”
until midnight
while i was pregnant at home
holding the fucking line—
trusting all y’all?
trusting the fucking name drops?
and weird-ass excuses?
and then
you showed up
without contacting me directly—
at my fucking home
days after giving birth,
because i fucking trusted you,
and this stupid ass institution—
and then?
you fucking held my newborn child
whose safety
you fucking compromised
through proximity,
silence,
money incentives,
job offers,
constant attention,
daddy connections—
and a flaming
fucking
conflict of interest?

✨

oh, bitch.

pray
i’m so fucking wrong.
and the
blatant fucking misconduct
isn’t as bad as it looks.

yo.

i fucking hope
whatever you were
“working on”
was fucking worth it.

because
now i’m the one
filing the paperwork.
i’ve got every single fucking
weird ass date.
and you’re the one
holding the fucking bag.

—

nah really,
better fucking pray.

✶

disclaimer:
purely speculative,
of course.
LMFAO.
not naming names.
not asserting facts.
just doing my own little compliance theater exercise
with some screenshots,
some timestamps,
and a little thing called
delayed, post-escape
fucking pattern recognition.

carry on.

finra.
✨👻✨