The Fifty-Thousand-Dollar Bill

A thick stack of bills slammed into my face. The sharp edges of the paper sliced the corner of my eye, and the cut burned like fire.

My boss, Oscar Richmond, the Skinner, stood behind his desk with his face flushed and the veins in his neck bulging. He pointed a finger at my nose and cursed me out.

Spit flew from his mouth and nearly landed in mine. "Anson Coleman, do you have any shame left at all? The company sent you on a business trip. Did it send you off to live like some kind of king?

"50,000 dollars! You spent 50,000 dollars in one night!

"Your monthly salary is only 3,000 dollars. Where did you get the nerve to spend 50,000?"

I wiped my face and took a deep breath.

I forced down the anger rising in my chest and tried to explain as calmly as I could. "Mr. Richmond, I didn't spend that money. It was the client, Mr. Worthington. He took a liking to me and insisted on treating me. I turned him down at first, but he wouldn't take no for an answer—"

The Skinner slammed his hand on the desk so hard that the mugs rattled. "Shut up! You still have the nerve to argue? The client treated you? Who do you think you are?

"That man is worth more than 100,000,000 dollars. Why would he take some broke office worker like you to a club like that? He only did it because of the company's reputation!

"And if he spent that money because of the company's reputation, then it belongs to the company as an asset! You enjoyed a company asset. That's called misappropriation!"

His logic was straight-up robbery taken to the extreme.

I stood there stunned, hardly able to believe my own ears.

The client had taken me out for dinner and drinks, yet somehow, in the Skinner's mouth, that had turned into me stealing from the company?

"Mr. Richmond, people ought to be reasonable. I was on that trip for three days, and to save the company money, I rode coach the entire way in the cheapest seat they had. I stayed in a run-down inn that cost less than 50 dollars a night.

"Even when I took the client out to eat, I stuck to the company's spending limit and bought 10-dollar takeout meals.

"Do you have any idea how much money I've saved this company?"

I would have been better off not mentioning the takeout meals. The moment I did, the Skinner flew into an even greater rage.

He yanked a crumpled receipt from his drawer and flung it onto the desk. It was the receipt for the three takeout meals I had expensed, 30 dollars in total.

"You still have the nerve to bring that up? You used company money to buy pig slop for a client, and that's how you protect this company's image?

"No wonder you went and spent 50,000 dollars at that club. I guess you just wanted to make up for all those cheap meals, is that it?

"Anson, I think poverty has driven you out of your mind!"

At that moment, the office door swung open. A woman in flashy, provocative clothes sauntered in, her hips swaying with every step.

She was the company's finance director and the Skinner's sister-in-law, his wife's younger sister, Lindsey Barinov.

Lindsey held a calculator in one hand and rapidly tapped the buttons as a cold, gloating smile spread across her face. "I've run the numbers. This one has been here for two years. In total, he's earned 72,000 dollars in wages.

"Deduct the 50,000 dollars for the misappropriation, then add the fines and interest. Not only will he walk away with nothing, but he'll actually owe the company 50,200 dollars."

At that, the fat on the Skinner's face quivered, and a greedy smile spread across his face. "Did you hear that, Anson? Either you hand over the 50,200 dollars right now, or I call the police and have you arrested. Then you can spend the next few years in prison."

I looked at the conniving pair of relatives, and I could no longer suppress the fury in my chest.

This was the company I had worked myself to the bone for over the past two years. This was the company I had ridden all night in a hard coach seat in the dead of winter to protect, all to save a handful of dollars on the fare.

None of it had been worth it.

My hand slipped into my briefcase and found the contract I had just signed. It was an exclusive supply contract worth 200,000,000 dollars in total. The commission alone would come to 2,000,000 dollars.

I had planned to surprise the Skinner with it. Now, there was no need.

I withdrew my empty hand from the briefcase.

I looked at the Skinner and said coldly, "You won't get a single cent from me, and I'm not going to prison either. But Mr. Richmond, you're going to regret what you did here today."