When a Stingy Raise Turns into a Corporate Funeral

As soon as the post was published, it went viral. It was the end of the year, so the hot topic was annual salary raises at the moment. The internet discussed extensively about Ingrid's post.

The next morning, Dennis Brown, the PR manager, knocked on my office door with his phone in hand the moment I came in to work.

I skimmed the post and scrolled through the comments below.

Uninformed and clueless commentators had taken over the comments section. The number of comments kept climbing in real time.

"How do they still have the nerve to make an announcement when they're only giving a 20-dollar raise? Do they expect their employees to get down on their knees and thank them?"

"Look how badly these workers are being exploited. Is it really that hard to live a decent life?"

"This is an innocent college graduate getting her first harsh life lesson from the capitalists. Poor girl."

"Who is the boss of this company? Let's expose them. There are only so many business owners. There are way more workers like us out there!"

I smiled bitterly while pinching the bridge of my nose in distress. I hadn't expected that the apology email I sent out of good conscience would become the trigger for their online outrage.

Dennis was just about to speak when Ingrid and Stuart pushed the door open without knocking and walked straight in.

Stuart looked very sincere, as if he was speaking from the bottom of his heart.

"Ms. Hailey, things are blowing up online. The company's reputation is taking a serious hit. Honestly, you should have consulted us old employees before making such a decision. Look how things have escalated. But it's okay. At times like this, we elders have to step up and do our part."

As he spoke, he nudged Ingrid, who was standing beside him. "Ingrid is one of the top recruits from this year's hires. She was even head of the publicity department in college. She knows how to handle public opinion."

Ingrid stood with her hands in her pockets, her eyes full of arrogant confidence. "Ms. Hailey, a raise in salary is recognition for everyone's hard work over the past year. As you can see, your approach has only sparked widespread criticism.

"Right now, the public sentiment is clear. Everyone thinks you've crossed a line this time. But worry not! As long as you listen to the voice of the people and increase the raise, I'm confident I can turn public opinion around to some extent."

After Ingrid finished speaking, she stared at me intently.

I shook my head, tapping my fingers lightly on the desk. "The company's policies won't change overnight. If there are objections, we can hold an assembly and put it to a vote."

Right at that moment, Dennis, who had been looking down at his phone, suddenly interjected, "Ms. Sarandon, this post has reached number one on the trending list. It has over 300,000 comments!

"The people online have already dug up our company's name. A reporter from Jerton Daily just contacted me. They want to conduct an exclusive interview with you."

Ingrid, who was standing to the side, grew even more brazen. "You seem to be about my age, Ms. Hailey. A word of advice—it's not too late to fix things before it's beyond repair. This company is your parents' life's work. Don't let your ridiculous pride ruin what everyone has worked so hard to build."

I ignored her provocation and veiled threats.

I patiently explained, "First, the 20-dollar raise is only temporary. Once the company gets through this difficult period, we won't mistreat anyone. Second, this year's year-end bonuses will be paid as usual so that everyone can have a happy new year. Do you have any other concerns, Mr. Hunt?"

Under Ingrid's and my scrutinizing gazes, Stuart tried to smooth things over awkwardly.

"Ms. Hailey, you may not be short on money, but you have to think about ordinary folks like us. My son is getting married this year. There are lots of expenses to be paid."

Indeed, Stuart's son was in his 20s now. But he seemed to have forgotten that 20 years ago, it was my parents who privately paid 300 thousand dollars for his son's leukemia treatment when he had just joined the factory.

I had no desire to continue arguing with pretentious ingrates. Not only was it meaningless, but it would only strengthen my resolve for what I planned to do next.

I said firmly, "I'm the one who makes the final decisions in this company. If there's nothing else, please leave. Mr. Hunt, I am now the one in charge. Please don't call me Ms. Hailey. It's Ms. Sarandon for you."

Ungrateful people who betrayed my family's trust were no longer worthy of my respect.