The Quiet Exit

"See that, Will? I'm the top sales performer now! The company doesn't need you anymore."

Donald Dixon turned to my sales team, his eyes full of contempt.

"From today on, all of you report directly to me. I guarantee great benefits. Your bonuses will be way better than sticking with this loser!"

The 20 million dollars in sales I earned with blood and sweat became his bragging rights.

Even my own wife, Chelsea Abbott, was staring at Donald with complete focus.

My heart felt like it was being slowly crushed.

It took me a long time before I spoke to Chelsea.

"So you agree with this? I don't care about the numbers anymore. I won't argue over the profit share. I just want to ask. If you fire me, who's paying back the final 60 thousand dollars?"

Seven years ago, Chelsea's family business went under. Her father jumped from a building, leaving behind millions of dollars in debt.

I brought Chelsea into the company and used my own performance to push her into a vice president role with a seven-figure annual salary. I even handed over most of my paycheck and ate boxed lunches that cost a few dollars, all to help her pay off the debt.

The day the debt was reduced to just 60 thousand, Chelsea hugged me tightly in our rented apartment, crying until my collar was soaked.

She said that once the debt was paid off, we would go to Cratesisle and make up for our wedding.

Holding onto that promise, I worked myself to the bone and delivered a record 20 million sales, planning to clear the debt with the dividends.

Yet… Chelsea handed it all over to Donald instead.

She paused for a bit, then told me, "Once the year-end bonus comes in, it'll be covered."

Donald wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her body stiffened for a split second, but she didn't push him away.

"I'm just sending you home for a while so you can rest. Don't overthink it," she went on. "And everyone can see it. Donald brought in 20 million. That's more than enough to take over…"

"That's nonsense!"

Tommy Foster, the hottest-tempered guy on the team, suddenly shot to his feet.

"Will achieved that 20-million-dollar sales, working day and night with us! How could you side with an outsider on this? Don't you have any shame?"

"Hey, Tommy," Roger Strickland cut in. "The numbers speak for themselves."

His eyes flicked back and forth as he took in Chelsea and Donald holding each other. His tone was smooth and ingratiating.

"Will just couldn't keep up with the market and got overtaken by Donald. Looks like we'll all be learning a few sales tricks from him going forward."

Tommy couldn't hold back his anger. "To hell with Donald! Roger, have you forgotten who's been cleaning up your messes at work? And now, you're turning on Will. How low can you get?"

Last quarter, Roger missed his targets, and I took the pressure to keep him around.

Now, he had completely betrayed me, eager to step on my back to pledge loyalty to Donald.

Roger snapped back at Tommy, "Who do you think you are? Work is about results! Will's finished. If you keep following him, you'll be starving in no time!"

It was hard to hear, but it was the truth nonetheless.

I appreciated Tommy standing up for me, but I didn't want to drag others down with me.

I patted Tommy's shoulder, trying to calm him down, then looked straight at Chelsea.

"Are you sure about this? Are you really going to push me out for Donald?"