How Long Must Employers Retain I 9 Section 3 Forms?

For three years, I worked for my coworkers for free—designing, covering for their mistakes, cleaning up their messes. They used my work to get promoted, to win awards, even to run side jobs on the sly, and I never took a cent for any of it. Then I single-handedly landed the hardest client project the company had ever taken on and walked away with a hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. That was the day everyone lost their minds. The same people who'd leeched off me the hardest led the charge, cornering me at my desk and tearing into me in front of the whole office. "The whole concept for that project was a team effort. What gives you the right to keep the bonus for yourself?" "Your work has always been garbage. That free labor of yours was never worth anything anyway!" Worse, they spent the whole night digging up old grievances, stitching together every minor slip-up they could find, and spreading rumors through the entire company—that I'd stalled projects, that my work was worthless, that I'd tanked the department's numbers. Finally, they gave me an ultimatum. "Either split the entire bonus with the department, or pay us two hundred thousand dollars for our trouble. Take your pick." Even the department manager tried to smooth things over, telling me, "We're all colleagues here. You've already got a big bonus—taking a small loss won't kill you. Don't be so difficult about it." Wonderful. So three years of quietly covering for everyone had just produced a pack of lazy, credit-stealing backstabbers. Since they wanted to gang up on the one person who'd always played fair, fine. I was going to lay out three years of original files, timestamps, and proof of exactly who'd done the work—all of it, all at once. And what none of them knew was that the special project behind my bonus was an AI system built to replace every single one of them.

In order to prevent the employees from slacking off at their jobs, the HR department of my company has established a strict check-in policy. We're requested to check-in with the company once per ten minutes. On top of that, we have to follow the HR employee, Felicia Lane's instructions in striking poses. Otherwise, the system will list us to have skipped work for the day. After failing to check-in with the company for the eighth time, I head to the HR department immediately. "Ms. Lane, your check-in policy is far too strict to the sales department! We have to travel everywhere just to make sales and strike business deals with clients! There's no way we can keep returning to the company!" But Felicia just scowls at me disdainfully. "Since you're working at the company, you're meant to follow the company's rules. Why else are you even here, in the first place? If checking in with the company affects your sales performance that much, that just means you don't have any capabilities to begin with. You should reflect on your own work performance instead!" When I recall the number of contributions I've made for the company, I try to seek out my boss to take my side. But he just tells me, "Since this is a rule, you might as well follow it. What's the use in seeking me out?" Later on, I choose not to do anything related to my job just so I can follow the check-in policy very strictly. But the rest of the company flies into a state of panic because of me.

Since I've spent a few minutes using the toilet during work hours, I only receive 3500 dollars despite my salary being 20 thousand dollars. I confront my boss, Vivian Dune, immediately. Although she seems fair and just on the outside, she adopts a passive-aggressive attitude with me. "The security footage from last month shows that you've used the toilet for 40 minutes altogether. Don't tell me you're working there, right? "It'll be 500 dollars for every minute you spend in the toilet. That's the new rule of the company. Since you're a veteran employee, you should be the one taking the lead. Honestly, I already went easy on you." I'm a veteran employee who has been working at this company for ten years. Each business deal that I've closed brings the company at least 100 million dollars worth of revenue. But now, I get robbed of my most basic right as a human. Seeing my lack of response, Vivian flashes me a venomous smile. "If you really don't want to work here, you might as well leave. Do you seriously think we need you? Don't forget that your five-year contract isn't up yet. Who in this industry will want to hire you next?" I don't argue with her any further. But when my contract, which only has five days left, comes to an end, she's the one panicking instead.

At 9:00 a.m., just as I arrived at the office entrance, two police officers stopped me. "Mr. Clarke, someone reported that you haven't shown up at work for a long time and that they couldn't reach you. They were worried that you might have been in an accident." I was shocked. I thought they had the wrong person. I had gone to work on time every day for the past six months. Sometimes, I even stayed late at the office until midnight. How could my company not be able to contact me? "You must have the wrong person. I go to work every day. Everyone at my company can prove it!" "The people who reported you missing are from your company."

Not even halfway through the Thanksgiving holidays, my boss, Bill Griffin, calls me back to work. He demands I cold-call customers for sales and promises generous overtime pay. Eager to give my son a better learning environment, I seize every chance to earn more money and agree without hesitation. But once the holiday ends, the management posts a notice. "An employee has generated an excessive phone bill working overtime during the Thanksgiving holidays and incurred company losses. Please reimburse the phone bill immediately." Bill, whom I had worked alongside since graduating from college, swiftly turns on me. "Some people in their 30s are about to be laid off. Having a job at all is a blessing, yet they don't know how to appreciate the opportunities the company gives them." Refusing to bow to the absurd demands and open threats, I hand in my resignation that very same day. A company that discards its employees the moment the job is done isn't worth a second of my time. They will learn the hard way who holds the leverage.

Three days after divorcing my ex-husband, Julian Hendricks, I receive a message from him. "Why haven't you wired your salary for this month to me yet?" I assume that he's pulling my leg and reply, "We're already divorced." "So what?" he retorts. "You're supposed to transfer 19,000 dollars out of your 20,000-dollar salary to me every month. You can spend the remaining 1,000 dollars however you want, just like before. "I took care of you when you weren't working in the past. How dare you stop giving me money just because we're divorced?" I stare at his messages in stunned silence. Throughout our three years of marriage, I give 19,000 dollars of my 20,000 dollar salary to Julian every month. Julian claims he's using the money to plan our overall household expenses, when in reality, he's using it to pay for his civil service exam, cover his meals with his friends, and treat his "study buddy" whom I've never even met. He scolds me when he catches me playing games after work, criticizing my lack of desire to improve myself even though I'm the one who cooks, cleans, and does the laundry. The audacity of this man. How dare he think that I'm still obligated to give him money when we're already divorced? The reason that Julian gives me is that he's worried that I'll spend my money frivolously. I block his number. Three seconds later, he calls me from a different number. "You'll regret this. This is the last time I'm ever helping you." I burst out laughing. Help me? No one has ever extended a helping hand to me in the last three years.