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Eight Years of Corporate Slavery, Rewarded with a Broom Novel Cover

Eight Years of Corporate Slavery, Rewarded with a Broom

After eight years of dedicated service, the administrative department faces public humiliation during the company's year-end gala. Boss George White introduces a cruel bonus round, ranking departments by sales metrics. Since administration has no sales KPIs, they are placed last by default. Forced onto the stage, the staff must accept brooms as a mocking prize while colleagues film the spectacle. This modern novel captures the sting of corporate elitism and the blatant disrespect of a toxic workplace.
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Chapter 3

Bill was at a loss for words. After a long pause, he said, "It's not that you haven't contributed, but the administrative department doesn't generate direct revenue. On the financial reports, it's pure expense…"

I let out a cold laugh. "Then let's look at the workload."

I brought up the attendance records.

"Over the past year, each admin team member averaged 42 hours of overtime every month. During the National Day move, we worked 72 hours straight without rest, hauling heavy loads. When clients showed up unexpectedly at Thanksgiving, we handled everything ourselves, from airport pickups, lodging, meals, and meeting room setups. We didn't even have time to eat.

"And no, we didn't get any overtime pay, comp time, or extra allowance. That means we were effectively making 18 dollars an hour. Even a convenience store clerk earns 22 dollars an hour."

I paused, stressing every word. "18 dollars an hour for grueling, stressful work, and at year's end, they give us a broom as a token of appreciation. Bill, does that seem fair to you?"

Bill's face darkened, and he withdrew his hand from mine. "Zach, don't just focus on your own contributions. Look at the bigger picture. Sales and marketing contribute far more than you do."

I stood up and let out a cold snort.

"What exactly did they contribute? You mean dragging through reimbursements? The administrative department fronted reimbursements for other departments all year, and there's still over 80,000 dollars unpaid! Finance refuses to approve them, citing procedural issues. What are those procedural issues exactly? Last year, it was done the same way!

"On top of that, the planning department under Mr. White's nephew managed only three proposals, one of which caused a client complaint for plagiarism. They paid 50,000 dollars in PR fees, which came straight out of our budget. Is that what you call a contribution?"

My anger flared as I continued, "And your HR team? They spend all their time making attendance sheets and issuing fines—50 dollars for being a minute late, 100 dollars for forgetting to clock in, 50 dollars for untidy desks. Last year, they raked in over 30,000 dollars in fines. Where did that money go?"

I let out a cold laugh. "Well done, all you so-called great contributors! If the company thinks the administrative department contributes nothing, don't expect us to work overtime for free anymore! We're honest, but that doesn't mean we're stupid. You can only feed people so many empty promises before even fools know they're fake!"

Ignoring Bill's sullen expression, I turned and left. Behind me, a teacup shattered on the floor. Bill's so-called goodwill was just him playing George's messenger. At the end of the day, there was no way I could believe this year's annual meeting arrangements happened without Bill's hand in it.

Back in the administrative office, all three pairs of eyes were on me.

My nose tingled, and I forced the emotions back down. I opened my mouth but couldn't get a word out.

Julius smiled wryly and plopped into a chair. "Judging by that look, I guess we didn't get anything out of it. Forget it. I'll handle the wedding somehow. Worst case, I'll just borrow a bit."

Renold wiped his face hard. "Everyone just pitched in a bit for me. Let's get my mom a regular appointment first. Specialist appointments can wait."

Caleb didn't say a word. He stared at his phone, likely letting his wife know the follow-up had to be delayed.

They forced down their resentment and sorrow, swallowing it along with every ounce of hurt.

I tightened my fists. "Caleb, you've got a contact in HR, right?"

Caleb nodded. "Louis Jackerman. Why?"

I looked up. "Ask him if the company has made any moves recently."

Caleb sent a message immediately. Minutes later, his expression changed drastically. "Zach, Louis said Mr. White has been planning to replace our department for a while. He's unhappy that our salaries have been capped for three years and still won't go lower. He wants a batch of cheap, fresh graduates instead."

Caleb gritted his teeth and slammed his phone on the table. "Bill had the legal team start preparing materials. If we dare make a fuss, they'll dig into every account we've handled, from supplier kickbacks to reimbursement irregularities. A few charges like that would be enough to ruin us."

I said, "This time, we're not letting it slide."

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