The Ungrateful Employees

1
As the founder of my own small company, I was never stingy with my employees.
When we cleared a million dollars in profit, I gave them $850,000 of it.
I thought generosity would win their loyalty.
Instead, they reported me to the Department of Labor.
We've received an anonymous complaint from an employee at your company, the voice on the phone said, dripping with official boredom. "Allegations of arbitrary wage deductions and unfair profit distribution."
"Furthermore, claims of a chaotic work environment and forced overtime, in serious violation of labor laws. You are ordered to rectify these issues immediately."
"And you're being fined fifty thousand dollars."
Fine. If they were so unhappy with my policies, then we would do things by the book. Just like every other company out there.
And that million-dollar profit?
They wouldn't see a single cent of it.

I immediately called my assistant and had her draft a new set of company regulations. Then, I scheduled an all-hands meeting.
The moment I stepped out of my office, I heard their whispers.
"Hey, do you really think he's going to give us 85% of the profits? Is that even possible?"
"No way. Its a no-brainer. What kind of boss is that nice? He's just exaggerating for the press, trying to build a reputation. We're just pawns in his PR game, you know?"
"Exactly. All bosses are the same. I don't buy this whole 'Mr. Nice Guy' act. Sure, he says we can be late or leave early, but we still have to make up the hours, don't we?"
"And letting us take salary advances whenever we want? He's just trying to make us dependent on him so we can't leave."

Every carefully analyzed sentence was a blow. A cold weight settled in my stomach.
I never imagined my kindness would be twisted into a manipulative tactic to buy loyalty. I had treated my employees with genuine respect, and in return, I got not loyalty, but suspicion. Betrayal.
If that's how they wanted it, then I was done being genuine.
I quietly slipped back into my office.
A few minutes later, my assistant came in with the newly printed company handbook.
"Sir, the new company regulations are ready."
"Good. Announce the meeting."
"Yes, sir."
When I walked into the conference room, it was a cacophony of chatter. Before this, Id never restricted their freedom, encouraging them to treat the office like a second home. The atmosphere had always been relaxed.
"Hey, the boss said yesterday he was giving us that $850,000 bonus. You think today's the day?"
"Get ready for a payday!"
I cleared my throat as I walked to the head of the table.
"I've called this meeting to announce a major change," I began, my voice ringing with a new authority. "The company has instituted a new set of rules and regulations."
"From this day forward, we will operate by these standards."
I had my assistant distribute a copy to everyone.
Someone started reading it aloud. "Effective immediately, employees are not permitted to be late or leave early. All staff must adhere to the prescribed work hours. Violations will result in a fifty-dollar deduction from your paycheck. Furthermore, employees will be subject to monthly performance reviews. The lowest-performing employee each month will be terminated."
"No more salary advances?!"
Shock rippled through the room. A woman named Lisa looked up at me. "Boss, is this some kind of joke?"
"Yeah, sir, I thought we were getting our bonuses today."
"You've got a great sense of humor, boss, but it's not April Fools' Day."

They were so sure. So certain I would never change a thing. The lively, casual atmosphere started to return.
I slammed my hand on the table. The sharp crack silenced the room. "Quiet! In what company do employees chatter freely during a meeting?"
After a beat of stunned silence, someone spoke up hesitantly. "But we've always been like this, sir."
"That was then. The rules have changed."
"Starting today, everyone will strictly adhere to the new regulations, just like at any other company. No lateness, no leaving early."
"And that $850,000 profit share," I said, letting the words hang in the air. "I'm canceling it."
A collective gasp went through the room. "What?!"
One man shot to his feet. "Sir, you promised you would share that with us!"
"Yeah, and what was wrong with the old system? Why change it?"
One after another, they stood up, a united front of protest.
My eyes scanned each of their faces. My probing had revealed the truth. It wasn't just one person who had reported me.
They had banded together. A conspiracy.
And now they stood here, playing dumb, asking me why.
How pathetic.
"Are you the boss, or am I?" I asked, my voice dangerously low. "There will be no further discussion of unrelated matters in this meeting. Anyone who brings it up again will be docked fifty dollars."
That shut them up.
I let out a cold, humorless laugh and turned to leave.
They thought this was a shock? They had no idea what was coming.
That same day, I had time clocks installed at the building entrance.
The next morning, my assistant brought me the tardiness report.
More than half the company was late.
"Notify them. Fifty dollars deducted from their pay."
"And add a new rule. If anyone is late more than ten times in a month, they're fired for gross negligence."
The moment my assistant relayed the message, my office door burst open.
A dozen employees crowded inside.
"Boss, we were only half an hour late. This is a bit extreme, don't you think?"
"Yeah, fifty bucks is my grocery money for a few days!"

I put down my pen and looked at them. "The new rules were made perfectly clear yesterday."
"Your failure to comply is not my problem."
"But"
They were stunned into silence.
For the next few days, they were forced to wake up earlier, to cram onto buses and subways to get to work on time. The perks were gone. They couldn't leave early and make up the time later. And now, the pressure of performance reviews loomed over them.
The office, once a place of relaxed camaraderie, was now filled with grumbling and complaints.
"Performance quotas? I'm screwed. I haven't even hit my target for this month."
"You think he's doing this on purpose? He made that grand promise about the $850,000, and now he's trying to push us all out so he can keep it for himself."
"It's possible. I've already been late six times. That's three hundred bucks gone. Any more and I'll be eating instant noodles for a month."
Suddenly, one of them slammed his fist on his desk. "Just you wait. If he's going to make our lives hell, we'll make his hell, too."

I switched off the security feed. I'd seen enough.
A few days later, I got another call from the Department of Labor.
They had reported me again, this time for the new policies.
I calmly submitted the new company handbook and the surveillance footage of employees clocking in and out. "Following your previous warning, we immediately revised our policies to be in line with industry standards," I explained. "We now have performance reviews and mandatory clock-ins."
"All salaries are now calculated based on a fixed formula: base pay plus performance bonuses."
After confirming everything was in order, they ended the call.
My employees, who had been eagerly awaiting my downfall, were gathered outside, gossiping.
"Hey, you think he's getting chewed out right now?"
"Serves him right for docking our pay. He needs to learn he can't just push us around."
"Damn right. And he pocketed our $850,000 bonus. I was counting on that for my mortgage payment."
Amid the chorus of agreement, one voice spoke up hesitantly. "I don't know, guys. Reporting him behind his back seems kind of wrong. And the new rules are just like any other company's. The old policies were actually great for us. Why did you guys have to report him?"
The group immediately turned on him, calling him a corporate bootlicker. He fell silent and retreated to his desk.
The others continued their chatter.
Until I walked out of my office and stood before them.
"It seems," I said, my voice carrying across the suddenly silent office, "that everyone is quite displeased with me."
The chatter stopped. Eyes widened. They scrambled to their feet.
"Boss! What are you doing out here?"
"Hey, boss!"
They plastered on fake smiles and crowded around me.
Did they think I was deaf?
I held up my phone and played the surveillance video of them bad-mouthing me.
They froze.
I was shocked. The one who was always kissing up to me, Leo Vance, was the one leading the charge.
And the quietest one, David Chen, the one who always just did his work, was the only one who had defended me.
"Boss, we were just joking around, and besides"
"You're fired," I said, looking directly at Leo.
"Wh-what?" He couldn't believe it.
I ignored him and walked over to David's desk. "David, come with me."
I promoted David to Sales Manager.
Leo's position.
When the news broke, Leo stormed into my office.
"On what grounds are you giving my job to David? Just because I said a few things?"
"Weren't you the one who said we had freedom of speech in this company?"
I looked at him coldly. "That was before."
"If you want to stay, then stay. If not, get out."
I had no mercy left for people like him.
"You can't fire me!" he roared.
"I can," I said flatly. "I'm the boss."
He slammed his fist on my desk and stormed out. His resignation was on my desk within the hour.
The next morning, my name was all over the internet.
My assistant frantically sent me the link. I clicked on it.
The headline read: MY LIFE AS A CORPORATE SLAVE UNDER A PSYCHO BOSS
In the video, Leo didn't just attack my policies; he slandered my character, twisting the truth into a grotesque caricature.
"You guys will not believe this," he began, his voice thick with fake emotion. "I've worked at this company for five years. I've poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. The company made millions, and the $850,000 bonus he promised us? Vanished into thin air. Not only that, but this psycho boss is using every dirty trick in the book to force us out."
"He's pushed me to the brink. I had no choice but to resign."
In the video, Leo was a mess of tears and snot, painting a picture of a long-suffering martyr.
It worked. The sympathy of fellow 9-to-5ers poured in.
"OMG, that's horrible! What company is this? Name and shame so we can avoid it!"
"As a fellow worker, I feel this in my soul. These evil capitalists, what do they think we are, their slaves?"
"Don't worry, man. A company like that will go bankrupt soon enough."

Tens of thousands of comments flooded the post. It went viral.
Because of Leo's video, my company was hit with a tidal wave of negative press. Our stock plummeted. Our reputation was in tatters.
And Leo? He was thriving. He launched a live-streaming channel.
He'd become an influencer. The viral video had gained him a massive following. He started selling products on his stream.
"Sir, we tried contacting Leo," my assistant reported. "He won't pick up."
"He says you have to call him personally."
My patience was gone. "Sue him," I told her.
A few minutes later, Leo received the legal notice from the court. He immediately went live, crying to his audience again. "Guys, please, stop talking about my old boss and company in the comments. They're going to sue me! I'm so scared! Oh no, please don't come and get me!"
Then his expression shifted into a smug, punchable grin.
The comments section exploded.
That's right, stick it to him! Teach him not to mess with the working class!
Exactly! He thinks he can bully us?
Don't be afraid, man. You already quit. What can he do to you?
As the video's popularity grew, and with Leo's daily attacks, the company became a public enemy. The internet was flooded with posts trashing us. Some people even started protesting outside our office building.
I finally called Leo myself.
He let it ring for a long time before picking up with a lazy, "Yeah?" The fawning respect was completely gone.
"Take down the post. Kill the trend. Issue a public clarification."
"Or you will regret this."
He just laughed. "Regret it? Mr. Sterling, I'm a huge influencer now. I could ruin your company with a few words. I think you're the one who's going to have regrets. Tell you what. You come to my studio right now, get on your knees, and apologize. Then maybe I'll come back."
"Oh, and I'll need triple my old salary. After all," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance, "I'm a big deal now."
"Unbelievable!"
I immediately instructed my assistant to have the PR department release a statement. But the moment it was posted, it was swarmed by Leo's mindless fans.
No performance reviews? Flexible hours? Who are you kidding? It's obviously a soul-sucking sweatshop.
Yeah, right. You think we're stupid? A capitalist is a capitalist.
A moment later, my assistant came back. The post had been mass-reported and taken down.
Worse, a mob of "righteous" netizens and reporters had surrounded our building.
I gathered my remaining employees to go down and explain. The moment we stepped out of the lobby, we were swarmed.
The air filled with insults.
"Soulless boss! How do you sleep at night, getting rich off your employees' sweat and blood?"
"The company makes millions, but you can't even spare a few hundred thousand for bonuses? You're not human!"
"Compensation! Compensate your employees now!"
Reporters shoved cameras and microphones in my face.
"Mr. Sterling, your former employee has claimed that you arbitrarily deduct wages and intentionally force employees out to avoid paying bonuses. Is this true?"
"Mr. Sterling, we've heard that you demoted him and publicly humiliated him to avoid paying his salary. Can you comment?"
"Mr. Sterling"
"None of that is true!" I roared. The crowd fell silent for a second.
"Before this year, we paid out bonuses every single year. We've always shared 85% of the company's profits with our employees, ever since we were founded. And our profits aren't in the millions! This year, it was one million dollars."
"And I was going to give them $850,000 of it."
My words were met with jeers.
"But you didn't, did you? Stop with the fake charity!"
"Yeah, talk is cheap!"
"You dock pay for being a minute late, but you expect us to believe you'd give out bonuses? Only a fool would believe that."
"I didn't dock their pay without reason! You can ask my employees!" I said, turning to the staff behind me.
But they weren't there.
Leo had appeared at some point, and my employees were now standing with him.
A reporter went over to them. "Is what your boss just said true?"
Without a moment's hesitation, they shook their heads.
"They've used all sorts of excuses to dock my pay," one said, playing the victim. "I've lost almost half my salary this month."
"Me too," said another.
Leo stepped forward, the picture of righteous indignation. "We are standing up today to fight for a better working environment for everyone! We shouldn't have to live in fear of having our pay deducted, bound by all these ridiculous rules!"
"Yeah! That's right!" a cheer went up from the crowd.
It was as if I was some irredeemable supervillain, and they were the heroes of justice.
I laughed. "I admit it. I didn't pay out the $850,000."
"See! See! What did I tell you?"
"Still trying to act like a saint."
"But" I paused, looking at the crowd. "There was a reason for it. If you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe this."
I took out my phone, pulled up the surveillance video from a few days ago, and hit play.
The sound of their own voices filled the air.
The crowd, which had been jeering moments before, fell silent.

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