He Eats My Commission, I Eat Him Alive

I reached the office at 8:59:59 am.

"Beep! Clock-in successful!"

I swallowed the last bite of my bagel, tossed my empty soy milk carton into the trash, and slid into my chair.

Everything was perfect. Impeccable timing.

I was a fresh college graduate working at one of the leading companies in the industry. It had taken two rounds of interviews just to get my foot in the door.

My campaign pitches were solid. Three months in, I'd already racked up compliments from four different clients, and one of them even demanded that I be their sole point of contact moving forward.

That instantly made me the most outstanding newcomer in my batch.

Last month, thanks to my bonuses and commissions, I actually earned more than my manager, Finley White.

Naturally, that put a massive target on my back. Finley started gunning for me, constantly dumping grunt work on my desk that nobody else wanted.

He took plenty of other petty shots at me too, but I didn't care. As long as I did my job, everything else was none of my business.

I was in the middle of editing a proposal when a notification popped up in the company group chat, announcing that there would be a meeting in the conference room in ten minutes.

My coworker, Joel Howard, glanced at me before looking toward the office. He pursed his lips and said, "Watch your back. He's probably going after you again."

I nodded with a knowing smile. To be envied was a privilege reserved for the talented. Nobody would bother to envy the mediocre.

I stayed behind for a minute to gather my notes, so I arrived a little late. By the time I walked in, almost everyone was seated.

Finley sat at the head of the table with an irritated expression.

"Ahem."

He cleared his throat, waiting until everyone's attention was locked onto him before speaking.

"This is just our standard Monday meeting, but there are a few things I need to address. Some people are getting too complacent. I'm seeing a severe issue with people clocking in late and leaving early. I expect every team lead to go back and have a serious talk with their members.

"Don't think that just because you have a little talent, the rules don't apply to you. This is a company, not your house!"

Nobody said a word, but nearly everyone glanced in my direction.

I flashed a grin. "Mr. White, why are we talking in riddles? Who exactly are you calling out?"

The entire conference room went dead quiet. Out of Finley's line of sight, Joel gave me a thumbs-up.

Finley frowned. "Asher, what is that supposed to mean?"

Smiling, I dropped my printed proposal on the table. "You know exactly what I mean. If you want to call me out, just say my name. Why talk in riddles?"

Finley clearly didn't expect me to say that. His expression darkened. "Asher, this is an official meeting! Drop the divisive attitude right now! Like I said, this is a company. Stop acting like you own the place!"

That actually made me laugh. I pulled out the company handbook right away, and the first rule stated, "The company is our home. Protecting it is everyone's duty."

"That's funny. When you want us to put in unpaid overtime or clean up the breakroom, the office is our home. But now suddenly it's not? Mr. White, it's better not to have such double standards."

Now it wasn't just Joel. Half the room was staring at me like I was some kind of hero.

Finley's face flushed a deep shade of purple. He slammed both hands on the table and stood up. "Asher Saunders! What is wrong with you? This is insubordination! You're slandering this company!"