The Bonus

"You guys know what the situation is like in this industry this year. I need to cut our end-of-the-year bonus by half in order to overcome this difficult period." My boss, Peter Hurley, claims that things are difficult in the industry right now, yet his wrist still showcases the luxury watch that he's just bought. My 20,000-dollar bonus is reduced to 700 dollars. In addition, I also received a plaque that says "Award for Outstanding Contribution". "This plaque is worth a lot, Soren. It represents the acknowledgement this company has for you. Don't be so petty when it comes to money." As I stare at the plaque in my hand, I can't help but scoff furiously. "Fine. I won't be that petty when it comes to money. I hope you won't be that petty either when you're paying next month's rent." Peter is stunned momentarily. "What do you mean by that?" I toss the plaque into the trash can. "What I mean is, I'm the landlord of this building. From next month onward, the rent will be increased ten times. If you refuse to accept the new rent, you can pack up and scram."

As the year ended and payday finally arrived, my salary still hadn't hit my bank account. I headed straight to the finance department to sort it out, but Sarah Thompson dismissed me impatiently. "You picked up those coupons last week, didn't you? The ones for "Spend 2,000, save 1,000". You got ten of them, adding up to $10,000. Your salary is $8,000, and that extra $2,000 is a perk." I stared at her, stunned. No one had said a word about this when the coupons were handed out. Worse, they could only be redeemed at our boss's supermarket, where commodities were ridiculously marked up. Items that cost $19.99 at a regular supermarket went for $49.99 there, more than double the price. It dawned on me that the boss was just shuffling money from one pocket to another, which meant I had been basically working for free. I shoved the coupons back at her. "I don't want these. Just deposit the cash into my bank account." Michael Wright walked over with a frown. "What's all the yelling? We gave you an extra $2,000, and you are not even grateful? You're stirring up trouble for nothing. You'd spend your salary on stuff anyway. We're just making it convenient." My voice rose, shaking with fury. "What you're doing is illegal!" He laughed, cold and scornful. "Then sue me. I manage things here. You think I'd be scared by a minor employee like you?" Right then, my phone buzzed with a text notification: [Lisa Matthews, congratulations on securing the Enforcement Officer position at the tax bureau.]

During the Thanksgiving gathering, I win first prize and get a bonus of 500 dollars. My boss, Michelle Wagner, generously doubles it. In the end, I get one thousand dollars. Then, my coworker, Caleb Clinton, and Michelle start egging me on to treat everyone to a meal. They basically force me to pay for the company's Thanksgiving gathering. If I refuse, Caleb says he will cut ties with me, and Michelle threatens to fire me. I have no choice but to agree under their pressuring. In the end, I pay an extra 100 thousand dollars out of my own pocket. After I settle the bill, they abandon the drunken me on the roadside, where I freeze to death. When I open my eyes again, I return to the day of the Thanksgiving gathering.

I was the best surgical hand in the department, and after three flawless operations in a row, I got slapped with an official reprimand and had my entire month's bonus docked. I wasn't having it. I marched straight to the Medical Affairs Office to hash it out with the manager, Gerald Sneed. "I've given this hospital ten years! Name one time I wasn't the first one in when it mattered! Last year, I pulled five surgeries back-to-back and collapsed on my feet by the end of it! What exactly did I do wrong that you're cutting my bonus over?" I was good at what I did, but my life outside the hospital was no easier. Mortgage, car payment, my kid's basketball lessons. I had been counting on that month's bonus to cover it, and now it was gone. I wasn't letting this slide. Since when did a successful surgery count as a mistake? Given my standing at the hospital, Manager Sneed didn't dare go toe-to-toe with me. Instead, he tried to smooth things over. "Dr. Cole, during that surgery you ran at three in the morning two nights ago, you drank two bags of glucose solution off the books, and it ended up billed to the patient. The family found out and accused us of overcharging. It's already blowing up online. Our hands are tied here." That's when it came back to me. That emergency surgery two nights ago had been a mess. It wasn't even supposed to be mine. I had already been on my feet in the OR for thirty-six straight hours, but the deputy director came looking for me and swore no one else could pull it off. So I gritted my teeth and scrubbed in. The surgery went perfectly. And somehow, that was what it got me. I took a breath and changed my tone. "I understand completely. This one's on me. I'll take a month off, go home, and think it over." Manager Sneed, pleased with himself for scoring one against me, approved the leave on the spot. What he didn't expect was that only a week later, the hospital director himself would call, begging me to come back to work.

After spending the past month working overtime and burning the midnight oil every day, I finally closed a business deal that's worth 50 million dollars before the company's annual dinner. My boss, William Lewis, begins giving away the end-of-the-year bonuses with a wide smile on his face. "The finance director helped our company save three million dollars worth of taxes. He will receive a villa by the river as a gift." "The head of IT led the team and solved various difficult problems. He shall receive 200 thousand dollars in cash." "Lily Lane, the receptionist, has always shown a great attitude whenever she greets the clients. She shall receive a Hermes bag." When it's my turn, I wipe the sweat off my palms before accepting my bonus. But upon opening the giftbox, I see three entrance tickets to the local zoo instead. "You must be sick of receiving commissions all the time as the sales director. Why don't you take advantage of this holiday to spend some quality time with your family?" On the way home, I dial a number. "Mr. Skylar, there's a problem with the 50-million-dollar contract. Let's discuss it later."

According to company policy, anyone who achieves the feat of being the top salesperson for three years in a row will receive a thousand-square-foot apartment as a bonus. To achieve this goal, I work day and night, chasing every order I can find. But once I finally meet the criteria, I'm told that the policy has been abolished. Saul Hurst, my direct superior, brushes me off with a bonus of 500 dollars instead. Smirking at me, he says, "Being good at sales is all well and good, but you still need to improve your understanding of the company's rules and values. "Young people need to stay humble and know their place. Don't keep trying to show off. It isn't good to constantly hog the spotlight." I don't lose my temper. Instead, I manage to stay unusually calm as I took the "massive bonus" I got in exchange for three years of hard work. Two days later, our company headquarters conducts its annual sales evaluation. When one of our clients offers me a sales deal worth eight million dollars, I turn it down on the spot. After all, I believe that part of what it means to be professional is to do as my superior says. Since I'm supposed to stay humble and know my place, I've chosen to keep a low profile and not do anything that puts me under the spotlight. Besides, even if our branch fails to meet the total sales target, I'm not the one who's going to be held accountable for that.