The Cost of a Scroll: Time, Trust, and Consequences

The sleek open office of The Efficient Company. The hum of keyboards fills the air. You’ve just walked in and spotted an employee, Mark, scrolling through social media. He’s so engrossed he doesn’t notice you leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him. For exactly 12 minutes.

Once his guilty glance flickers up and catches your eyes, it’s too late. You straighten up, signal Zara silently, and step into the room. The entire office goes quiet as you clear your throat.

You (projecting your voice calmly, but firmly): “Team, let’s pause for a moment. Everyone, step away from your desks and gather around.”

Employees exchange confused glances, but they quickly assemble in the open floor space. Mark shifts nervously, not making eye contact. You stand at the front of the group, Zara by your side, clipboard in hand.

You (addressing everyone): “Let’s talk about time. Time is the most precious resource we have. It’s the backbone of this company and the trust we build with our clients. Let me paint a picture for you.”

You step forward, commanding the room’s attention.

You: “Imagine this: just one employee spends an hour a week distracted—scrolling, chatting, whatever it may be. Doesn’t seem like much, right? But multiply that by four weeks. That’s four hours lost in a month. Now, let’s say we have 200 employees. That’s 800 hours a month. Multiply that by $20 an hour, and this company just lost $16,000—for nothing. For distractions. For inefficiency.”

The employees murmur, shifting uncomfortably. Mark is practically sinking into the floor.

You (holding up a hand to silence the murmurs): “Now let’s go bigger. Let’s say this isn’t just our company—it’s every company in the world. Imagine what that means for global productivity, for trust in the workplace, for innovation that never gets off the ground because we’re too busy wasting time. This isn’t just about business. It’s about integrity. It’s about the contract we all entered into when we chose to work here.”

Your voice softens slightly, but your words remain firm.

You: “We don’t just pay you for your skills; we pay you for your time, your effort, your commitment. And in return, we promise to support you, to give you opportunities, to invest in your growth. That’s a two-way street, people. Break that trust, and it’s not just the company that suffers—it’s everyone here.”

You take a breath, letting your words sink in. The room is silent.

You: “I hope we all understand what’s at stake here. Now, let’s get back to work.”

You turn, taking a few steps toward the door, but then pause. Without turning around, you call out:

You: “Mark, I’ll see you in my office.”

The silence becomes even heavier. Mark’s face turns crimson as he nods, sweat forming on his brow. The other employees glance at each other, their expressions a mix of sympathy and relief that it wasn’t them.

In your office:

Mark enters cautiously, closing the door behind him. You’re seated at your desk, calm but clearly in control.

You: “Take a seat, Mark.”

Mark: “I—uh—I’m sorry, ma’am, I—”

You (holding up a hand): “Save it. I’m not here to berate you. But I will be clear. This is your first and only warning. What you did was a breach of trust, and it’s not acceptable. I understand people make mistakes, but if this happens again, there won’t be another conversation. Understood?”

Mark (nodding furiously): “Yes, ma’am. Understood. Thank you for the chance.”

You (leaning forward slightly): “Don’t thank me yet. Show me you’re worth it. Now, get back to work.”

Mark leaves the office, visibly shaken but determined. Zara peeks in as he exits.

Zara (dryly): “Do you think he’s still sweating?”

You (smirking slightly): “If he’s not, he didn’t hear me properly.”