Surviving My Father’s KPIs
My father was a senior HR executive.
He used KPIs to define my life.
"Rank top ten in your grade, and I'll give you a B, with a bonus of 250 dollars.
"Place in a state-level competition, and you'll get an A, with a bonus of 500.
"If your SAT score hits Ivy-level, I'll give you an S+ and a 5,000-dollar year-end bonus."
I studied as if my life depended on it, and in the end, I got the acceptance letter.
My father slapped a contract down in front of me instead.
"Congratulations on onboarding into the next phase. Starting today, your allowance will be structured as base salary plus performance plus attendance bonus.
"Base pay is 250 dollars a month, enough to keep you from starving.
"To prepare you for a high-pressure work environment, I’ll conduct random inspections. Fail, and your pay gets docked."
When I ran a 104°F fever, he cut my attendance bonus, saying my physical resilience didn't meet standards.
When I forgot to submit a weekly report because I was buried in schoolwork, he froze all my money.
To stay alive, I went behind his back and sold blood at the hospital.
At the end of the semester, I held my transcript and scholarship certificate, thinking I had finally earned the highest rating.
But my father looked at me without a trace of warmth.
"Your S+ bonus has been reallocated. The company decided to invest it in your brother, Harry. He has more potential."
I looked at the 100-dollar "consolation prize" he handed me and laughed.
So in his company, I didn't even qualify as an "outstanding employee."