“Three ice creams, $9 million? Emily, are you serious?”
Hands on her hips, she snapped back,
“Company rules aren’t a joke. And the fine has Richard’s signature on it.”
Looking at the familiar name “Richard Collins” on the document, I still refused to believe it.
I crumpled the paper and knocked on Richard’s office door.
“Richard, this must be a mistake.”
Without lifting his eyelids, he said, “No mistake. As a senior executive, you should lead by example. If you refuse to pay, how will Emily manage anyone?”
“But… $9 million for three ice creams? That’s absurd.”
“They were custom-made and flown in from overseas. $9 million isn’t too much.”
“Besides, didn’t the company just pay you a $10 million bonus last month? Perfect timing!”
Ha! Now I understood.
This wasn’t about three ice creams. It was about clawing back my $10 million bonus. They were staging this together!
A year ago, my team and I practically lived in the manufacturing plant, crunching data and running models day and night.
Many went half a year without a single vacation. Even when their wives gave birth or their parents were sick, Richard wouldn’t allow leave.