Canceled the VIP Tea Break, My Employees Had Me Arrested

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged.

The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks."

The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone.

I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks.

A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees."

I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry.

So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone."

Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post.

"Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

The post was still trending even after a while, and the comments section was filled with appalling comments.

"Bosses like this just want to save money! They're just using it as an excuse!"

"What does the boss mean by 'converting it into cash'? It's just an empty promise! You'll never see it on your payslip!"

"Run! Get out of this company at once! You'll never have a future at a company that refuses to accept feedback!"

Alice Grimes was also very active in the comments section, replying to almost everyone.

"Exactly! I'm only just an intern here, and I thought I'd offer only suggestions for everyone's benefit. But now, I'm being targeted by the boss instead. It's so tough out here!"

I tapped on Alice's profile photo, a meticulously touched-up selfie, and read her bio. It read, "I'm a Gen Z challenging workplace norms."

Challenging workplace norms?

I felt like she was challenging my IQ more than anything else.

I was Jacqueline Knox, the only daughter of the chairman of Knox Group, Philip Knox.

I hadn't wanted to be thrust immediately into the family company right after graduation and be under scrutiny by the other veterans there, so I just took the allowance Dad gave me and started my own company, JK Media & Advertising, instead.

My initial goal was very simple. I just wanted to create a dream company where my employees and I all loved working at.

I never forced them to clock in, never checked their attendance, and didn't even set KPIs for any of my employees.

The free afternoon tea was also provided by a famous five-star hotel, with freshly ground coffee straight from its origins. Even the hand soaps provided for free in the bathroom stalls were top-quality branded items.

I thought my employees would treat me well as long as I treated them the same way. However, reality slapped me hard in the face.

Just then, there was a knock at my office door.

My secretary, Callie Walters, entered. She placed a glass of warm water next to me and had a somewhat grim expression on her face.

"Ms. Knox, the atmosphere outside isn't right. It's a little…tense. Everyone's talking about the afternoon tea being canceled, and Alice won't stop fanning the fire either, saying that…"

"What did she say about me?"

I lifted the glass of water and took a small sip.

"They're saying that you're… You're someone who can't take a joke and take it out on them instead."

Callie cautiously observed my expression while saying that.

I chuckled coldly. "They say that I can't take a joke? Well, in that case, I'd better give them a run for their money and play along with them."

I grabbed my phone and texted the company's CFO.

"Redo the payroll for this month and convert the afternoon tea budget into cash, adding 1100 dollars per person per month to their salary. State clearly in the remarks that it's a subsidy for the afternoon tea. Then, issue the payroll tomorrow."

After sending out the message, I got up and looked out through the gap in the blinds.

Alice was touching up her makeup in the common area, using a mirror in her hand, and was surrounded by three of my long-time employees.

I recognized who they were.

The first one was Gerard Smith from the design department, and he'd been working for me for two years. His work was mediocre, but he was quite docile and obedient. He had two children at home, and I had specifically approved an extra 1000 dollars for him every month as his "childcare subsidy".

The second one was Lucy Todd from the copywriting department. She was 35 years old and divorced with a child. She cried and begged me to give her a job back then, and I took pity on her and hired her, making sure to take good care of her throughout the years.

The last one was Fiona Swanson, from the administration department. She was a recent graduate who usually seemed very well-behaved.

Yet, at that moment, they were standing around Alice with a look of righteous indignation on their faces.

Alice wouldn't stop rolling her eyes while applying her lipstick, seemingly mimicking my tone and manner when I spoke, causing the people around her to burst into laughter.

I closed the blinds as the last shred of warmth in my heart dissipated.

Since they thought the five-star afternoon tea I'd gone to the trouble of providing was garbage that even pigs refused to eat, then they probably weren't going to be able to handle all the "benefits" I was about to toss at them.