I fought to keep my anger in check.
"Back in June, we agreed to skip the mid-year raise because you promised we'd get a bigger bonus at year-end. You said you'd make it right for everyone!"
Bang!
The teacup slammed against the desk, tea splashing everywhere.
"Claude! Watch your tone!"
"The company has its own evaluation process. The market's rough right now—things have changed. Of course bonuses have to be adjusted accordingly!"
The market was rough, sure. But our company's numbers weren't. Other departments had gotten their payouts just fine.
None of that explained why we were stuck with $8.80.
The boss didn't give me a chance to respond. He let out a heavy sigh.
"Do you have any idea how bad this looks? You storming in here like that?"
"Finance saw it. Strategy saw it. Everyone saw it. You set this precedent, and what—now anyone with a workplace grievance can just barge into my office and make a scene?"
"If everyone acted like you, how is this company supposed to function?"
I clenched my jaw, glaring at him.
"I'll write a self-criticism. But only after our department gets the full bonus we're owed."
He slammed his palm on the desk.
"Everyone says you're one of the honest ones. Guess that was all an act!"
"So honest people deserve to get screwed over?"
When I was hired, they promised annual raises of at least five percent. In all these years, that never happened. The best we ever got was three percent.
Every time, it was the same line: Wait until the company's doing better. We'll make it up to you.
Year after year. The company caught the AI wave. Revenue soared.
But our salaries in the tech department? Flatlined. Not a ripple.
"Screwed over? You think you can talk to me like that?"
"Claude, let me make something clear. You know what 'pay for performance' means? All your department does is write a little code and fix the occasional bug. What kind of contribution is that? The fact that I'm giving you people $8.80 each is me being generous."
Write a little code? Fix the occasional bug?
All those late nights. All that brainpower poured into every line. And to him, it was worthless—just like that.
My face burned. I yanked the badge from around my neck and threw it onto his desk.
"That's not what you said when you begged us to pull all-nighters for your precious business growth!"
"You called us the backbone of the operation. Said without us, all the deals in the world wouldn't mean a damn thing because nothing would actually work."
"But now that it's time to share the rewards, suddenly we're the most useless department?"
"You want to burn the bridge after crossing it? We're not going to stand for that!"
I kicked over the trash can and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
The moment I stepped out, all the rubberneckers ducked back behind their monitors.
Let them stare. I didn't care.
All I could think about was how I was going to face my team.
They were my people. They'd followed me, learned from me, pulled countless late nights without a single complaint.
And I couldn't even get them the bonus they'd earned.
My eyes stung.
"Come with me."
Executive VP Sawyer stepped into my path.
Ronnie Sawyer had joined the company the same time I did—one of the original crew. He ran HR, and most days he came across as reasonable enough.
He shut the door behind us and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Was that really necessary?"
My head snapped up. I stared at him in disbelief.
"Necessary? Mr. Sawyer, my team is counting on that money to get through the holidays!"
"Milton's mother is eighty years old! She's always wanted to see the Capital, and he promised her—promised her—he'd take her once the bonus came through."
"Cordelia's mom needs surgery, and that money was supposed to cover it. And Caspar—"
