Five Years In, I'm the Poorest Employee

In that moment, the noise around my table in the private hall seemed to disappear. The only thing left echoing in the air was the laughter of Clare Randall, the intern.

I slowly lowered my cup, my fingertips turning slightly white from the pressure.

Five years ago, the company had only a dozen or so employees, all crammed into a dilapidated residential unit.

During the interview, the company's founder, Grant Conner, held my hand and spoke sincerely.

"Shania, the company is just starting out. Right now, I can only offer you three thousand dollars. But rest assured, as long as we grow and succeed, I'll make sure you get your fair share."

I believed him.

For five years, I handled administration, human resources, and part of the business development work all by myself.

I watched the company grow from a dozen employees to the 300 it had today. I watched Mr. Conner's car upgrade from a used Volkswagen to a Porsche Cayenne.

I always thought everyone was like me—still scraping by on meager wages and working together to get through hard times for the company's future.

After all, at every meeting, Mr. Conner would plead poverty, saying the company was expanding too fast and cash flow was tight.

That was why I never had the heart to bring up a raise. I didn't want to make things difficult for Mr. Conner.

But now, a fresh graduate who couldn't even use Excel functions properly was getting a base salary of five thousand dollars.

Meanwhile, I was still earning a salary of three thousand dollars.

The sheer absurdity of the situation made my stomach churn.

I instinctively turned to look at a few of my longtime colleagues sitting at the same table.

Wendy Johnson, Ivan Weaver, and Anna Curtis were all veterans in the finance department who had started around the same time as me.

I thought I would see the same shock and anger on their faces that I felt.

But there wasn't any.

Wendy lowered her head to sip on her soup, the spoon clinking against the porcelain bowl.

Ivan was frantically scrolling through his phone, as if some urgent matter had suddenly come up.

Anna had even turned around to loudly talk about today's dishes with people at the next table.

In that moment, I understood completely—everyone else's salary had gone up.

I was the only fool still earning the same salary from five years ago and doing the heavy lifting, thinking I was being dedicated.

Finally, someone reacted.

"Oh dear, Clare's had too much to drink!"

The person next to Clare quickly pulled her back, trying to cover her mouth. "Don't talk nonsense. Eat your food!"

As that colleague spoke, she shot me a nervous glance.

Clare was pushed back into her seat, still mumbling, "I'm not talking nonsense… It's written in the contract…"

I looked at the greasy pork rib on my plate and felt nauseous.

Suddenly, the hall felt very stuffy—so stuffy that I could barely breathe.

"Excuse me." I set down my utensils, my voice trembling slightly as I spoke. "I need to go to the restroom."

I fled from my seat, keeping my head down as I quickly walked through the hotel's thickly carpeted corridor.

I splashed some water on my face in the restroom and tried to clear my head.

Just as I returned and was about to round the corner, I heard Clare's voice. She was talking to someone.

"Mr. Conner, I think I might have just messed up. In my excitement, I think I let something slip about the salary…"