The Five Hundred Dollar Mistake

My wife was about to have our second baby. I went to my boss and asked for a five-hundred-dollar raise for formula money.

He just sneered. “Do the job or get the hell out.”

I’d given that company twenty years of my life. The other techs on my team were making nearly double my salary, while I was stuck at forty-five hundred a month.

I was so pissed, I quit on the spot.

A month later, he’d lost a hundred million dollars.

Now he’s on his knees, begging me to come back?

Too late.

1

My wife was asking for a five-hundred-dollar raise. Not for her, for me. For the baby.

“The price of formula is just… it’s insane,” she’d said, her hand resting on the tight drum of her belly. Nine months. We were in the home stretch.

So, the next morning, I went in early.

The air in the office was stale with last night’s whiskey and this morning’s cigarette smoke. Marcus, my boss, was already there, hunched over his desk. I’d been with him since the beginning, since this whole plant was just a concrete shell and a handful of blueprints. Twenty years.

“Marcus? Got a minute?” I asked from the doorway.

He glanced up, his eyes bloodshot, and gave a noncommittal grunt.

I took a deep breath. “My wife’s due any day now. I’ve been here twenty years, and I’m still at forty-five hundred a month. I was hoping… could we bump that up? Just five hundred. For the baby.”

A dry, crackling sound that might have been a laugh escaped his lips. “If you don’t like the pay, Frank, there’s the door.”

I just stood there, the words hanging in the air like smoke. I knew the other lead techs were making seventy, eighty thousand a year. I was the senior man, the one who’d built the damn place. The main control system, the schematics, the wiring for every single machine on the floor—I had laid it all out. When something went wrong, I was the one they called. Always.

He stubbed out his cigarette, the cherry dying in a pile of ash. He crossed his legs. “You’re an electrician, Frank. Who do you think you are, coming in here and making demands?”

My throat felt tight. “It’s not a demand. It’s just… things are tight at home. With the second kid on the way.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have had a second kid,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Everybody wants a raise. Are you in or are you out? Because I’ve got a hundred guys who’d kill for your job.”

I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him, really looked at him, for a long moment. Then I turned and walked out.

Five minutes later, I was back. I placed my toolbox on the polished surface of his desk. The clank of the metal was the only sound in the room.

“I’m out,” I said.

He froze, then shot to his feet, slamming his palm on the desk. “You’re serious? You’re really pulling this?”

I just nodded. “I’m done.”

I expected him to argue, to bargain, maybe even to yell some more. He did none of it. His face hardened into a mask of contempt.

“Fine. Go. But don’t you dare come crawling back. Don’t even think about setting foot on this property again.”

I didn’t bother replying. I went back to the locker room, rolled up the spare change of clothes I kept there, and walked.

The sun hadn’t risen yet. A cold wind whipped around the corner of the building, stinging my legs through my jeans as I walked out the main gate.

“Frank! You really did it?” It was Leo, one of the guys from my crew, his voice full of disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Man, that’s crazy. I know Marcus is an ass and the pay sucks, but… twenty years, man. You can’t just throw that away.”

I didn’t stop walking. My toolbox felt heavy in my hand, but my head was strangely empty.

He was right. Twenty years. A whole career. All the overtime, the emergency calls in the middle of the night, the sweat and the scars. And in the end, it wasn’t even worth five hundred bucks a month.

As I walked, my wife’s words from last night came back to me.

“If he says no, it’s okay, honey. Don’t make it hard for him. We’ll figure it out.”

A hot sting pricked the back of my eyes. Maybe I was just too damn quiet. Too loyal for my own good.

When I got home, she was still asleep. I didn't want to wake her, so I sat on the small balcony off our bedroom and lit a cigarette, watching the sky slowly fade from black to gray to a pale, hopeful blue. My phone buzzed. The direct deposit had hit. Paycheck: $4,500. After taxes and insurance, just over $4,100.

The numbers started spinning in my head. Formula. Diapers. The mortgage. Groceries.

2

We had some savings. We could make it work for a little while if we were careful. I opened up my laptop and pulled up Indeed, the screen glowing in the half-light of dawn. The listings stared back at me: Lead Electrical Technician, starting at $60k. Control Systems Specialist, $75k.

I sighed, scrolling through the possibilities. For twenty years, I’d treated that company like it was my own. And for twenty years, they’d treated me like a tool they could just leave out in the rain.

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