A Simple Favor for a Stranger at Work Backfired Badly

Hello Readers, throwaway for obvious reasons—this could still reach people at my old company. I’ve been out of that job for three months now, and I’m only just able to write this without my hands shaking. In June 2025, I did what I thought was a small, harmless favor for a new coworker I barely knew. By November, it had spiraled into a nightmare of accusations, HR investigations, and whispers that forced me to quit the job I loved. It wasn’t dramatic or violent—just a slow, corrosive erosion of trust that made the office feel hostile overnight. This is the full timeline.

I’m 30F, senior graphic designer at a mid-sized creative agency in Minneapolis. I’d been there six years—great team, flexible hours, projects I was proud of. I’m friendly but professional: I organize birthday cards, help with deadlines, but keep my personal life private. No drama, no enemies.

The “stranger” was “Ethan,” 28M, junior copywriter who started in May 2025. Fresh-faced, eager, a little awkward. Sat two desks away. We’d chatted casually—favorite coffee, weekend plans—but nothing deep.

The favor happened June 10.

It was a Tuesday, crazy deadline week. Everyone stressed. Around 6 p.m., most people had left. I was finishing a client deck when Ethan came over, looking panicked.

“Hey, sorry to bother you—I’m locked out of my laptop. IT is gone for the day, and I have a pitch draft due tomorrow morning. Could I borrow yours for like 20 minutes? I’ll sit right here, you can watch me. I just need to pull my files from the shared drive and email them to myself.”

I hesitated—company policy is strict about not sharing logins—but he looked desperate, and it was a shared drive, not my personal files. I was logged in anyway.

I thought: it’s 20 minutes. He’s new. Be nice.

I said, “Sure, but stay on the shared drive only. Don’t open anything else.”

He swore he would, sat at my desk, I stood behind him. He opened the drive, downloaded his folder, emailed it to his personal Gmail (red flag I ignored), thanked me profusely, and left.

I logged out, locked my computer, went home.

Should have been the end.

It wasn’t.

First weird thing: June 12. Ethan texted me (we’d exchanged numbers for a group project): “Thanks again for saving my ass! Beers on me sometime?”

I replied politely: “No worries, glad it worked out.”

Then silence for weeks.

July: he started acting… familiar. Stopped by my desk uninvited to chat. Commented on my Spotify playlist (visible on my screen). Asked personal questions: “You live alone? Must be nice.” “Seeing anyone?”

I kept it professional, short answers.

August: the favor backfired.

I noticed small things missing from my desk: a favorite pen, my reusable coffee cup, a postcard from a trip.

I thought I was misplacing them.

Then one Friday, I got a Slack from HR: “Can you come in for a quick chat Monday?”

Monday meeting: HR rep and my manager.

“Alex, we’ve had a report of potential policy violation. Someone saw you allow another employee to use your logged-in computer after hours.”

My stomach dropped.

I explained the situation—truthfully.

They nodded, said they’d investigate.

That afternoon, Ethan was called in.

He told a different story.

According to him: I’d offered my computer “multiple times,” he’d used it to access “personal files,” and I’d been “flirty” and “overly helpful” to him since he started—implying I had a crush and was trying to get close.

I was stunned.

HR showed screenshots—texts he’d taken of our Slack history (innocent work stuff) and one private text where I’d said “Happy to help anytime!” after a project.

He’d framed it as me pursuing him.

Then the missing items: he claimed I’d given them to him as “gifts”—the pen “because you said you liked my handwriting,” the cup “for coffee dates we never had.”

I had no proof otherwise.

HR said it was “he said/she said,” but because computer access is a security issue, I got a written warning. Ethan got nothing—claimed he was “uncomfortable” and “didn’t want to make waves.”

The office vibe shifted overnight.

Whispers. Side-eyes. People I’d worked with for years suddenly distant.

A female coworker pulled me aside: “Just be careful—he told some guys you were ‘coming on strong.’”

I felt sick.

I went back to HR with my version, timeline, asked for camera footage (there’s one in the open area).

Footage showed exactly what I said: him asking, me standing behind him, 18 minutes, him leaving.

HR “revisited” the case.

Ethan changed his story: “I felt pressured because she’s senior.”

Still no consequence for him.

By September, I was miserable. Anxiety through the roof, dreading going in.

Clients started getting reassigned “for bandwidth.”

I knew I was being pushed out.

October: I started job hunting.

Found a new role—similar title, better company, fully remote option.

Gave notice November 1.

On my exit interview, I told HR everything—the favoritism toward Ethan, the false accusations, the retaliation.

They looked uncomfortable, said they’d “look into it.”

Ethan still works there.

I started the new job in December 2025.

The people are great. No drama. I feel safe again.

But I lost friends from the old place. Some believed him. Others stayed neutral to “not take sides.”

I learned the hard way: a simple favor for a stranger at work can backfire badly.

Because some people rewrite history to protect themselves.

And companies protect the status quo.

I’m not bitter—just wiser.

No more “small favors” that compromise policy.

No more assuming good intentions.

Trust is earned slowly and lost in seconds.

And once it’s gone at work, it rarely comes back.

Thanks for reading. I needed to tell this somewhere.