The next day was payday.

The notification chimes for incoming deposits started ringing across the office one after another.

I sat in my office, listening to the commotion outside.

Under normal circumstances, getting more than six hundred extra dollars a month would be a huge piece of good news at any company.

After all, it was real cash—money that could go toward a mortgage payment, new gear, or a nice dinner.

Yet instead of the cheers I had expected, the office fell into a strange silence, followed by hushed whispers.

I stood up and picked up my mug to get some water from the break room.

Before I even reached the door, Julian’s sharp voice rang out from inside.

“Oh wow, it’s only six hundred sixty? I thought it’d be way more.”

Then Daniel’s voice followed, hesitant. “Honestly… that’s not bad. It’s enough to sign my kid up for an extracurricular class.”

“Daniel, you’re way too easy to satisfy!” Julian said in exasperation.

“Think about it. That coffee spread the boss kept bragging about—he said it was from a five-star hotel. Thirty bucks per person.

“Twenty-two workdays a month. That’s six hundred sixty, sure. But!”

He deliberately paused, his voice rising several notches. “You really think the company wasn’t getting kickbacks from the vendor?

“And those desserts he claimed were five-star quality—who knows if they actually came from some cheap wholesale bakery?

“The receipts were probably fake. Who knows how much the boss pocketed from it.”

“Wait… seriously?” Eric sounded shocked. “The packaging looked pretty fancy to me.”

“Packaging doesn’t cost anything,” Julian scoffed. “You guys are way too naive. When has a capitalist ever not squeezed people dry?

“Now he’s paying us the cash directly. Looks like we got six hundred extra, right? But guess what, this money is taxable.

“And who knows? Maybe this is just a way for him to dodge taxes… or even launder money.”

“Launder money?”

Even Maggie sounded startled. “Julian, you can’t just throw accusations like that around.”

“How am I making it up?” Julian said confidently. “I’ve got a friend interning at the IRS. He’s seen this kind of trick plenty of times.

“They disguise company profits as employee benefits to balance the books while the boss takes the real money. This six hundred is basically hush money for us.”

“Man… that’s really shady.” Daniel sighed. “And here I used to think Mr. Shaw was a decent guy.”

“A decent guy?” Julian snorted.

“A decent guy doesn’t drive a luxury car and wear luxury watches.

“That luxury car of his? Pretty sure it was bought with our sweat and blood.

“Think about it, we work overtime every day until we’re exhausted. And him? He just drops by, walks around for a bit, then leaves. Why does he deserve it?

“Exactly. What’s the point of six hundred bucks? Having a private chef come in would’ve looked way better,” Eric chimed in.

“I even posted those desserts on my social media before, and someone commented that they looked like something bought off a discount website.

“If the company had actually hired a Michelin chef, imagine how impressive that would’ve looked on my feed.

“Mr. Shaw always dresses so polished, but who would’ve thought he’s this stingy? He can’t even be bothered to give employees a little morale boost.”

I stood outside the door, my fingers tightening around the mug until they turned pale.

So, this was human nature.

A small favor brings gratitude. Too much generosity breeds resentment.

I had been paying out of my own pocket to subsidize the company. I hadn’t expected anything in return; I just wanted everyone to be comfortable.

Instead, I’d raised a pack of ungrateful wolves.

I turned and walked back to my office, then posted a new announcement in the company chat.

“To thank everyone for their hard work lately, the company has decided to organize a team retreat next month.

“Location: Azure Haven Islands. Duration: Seven days and six nights.

“Package: Chartered direct flight, five-star all-inclusive private island resort, ten thousand dollars per person. Fully paid leave, all expenses covered.”

The moment the message was sent, the group chat exploded.

“Long live the boss!”

“Oh my god, the Azure Haven Islands! I’ve dreamed of going there!”

“Ten thousand per person? What kind of dream company is this?”

“Mr. Shaw, you’re the best!”

I stared at the flood of emojis and praise without any expression.

The same people who had just called me “corrupt” and accused me of “money laundering” in the break room were now spamming the chat with thank-you memes.

Daniel: “Mr. Shaw, you’re amazing! I knew sticking with you was the right choice!”

Maggie: “Thank you, Mr. Shaw! I’m going to start looking up travel guides right now!”

Eric: “Ahhh! I’m buying new swim trunks for photos!”

Hah.

Their attitudes changed faster than flipping a page.

Just as the excitement in the chat reached its peak, an untimely message popped up.

Julian: “Azure Haven Islands? That’s where tacky rich people go. Hot, crowded, and totally basic.”

The scrolling messages in the chat abruptly stopped.

Julian kept going. “Anyone with real taste these days goes to Nordhaven to see the northern lights and stay in glass cabins. That’s what a real life experience looks like.”

He tagged me directly.

“Boss, did you pick an island just to save money? Or is this really the level of your taste?”

I stared at the screen, the corner of my mouth curling into a cold smile.

My fingers tapped across the keyboard.

“This time of year in Nordhaven? It’s the polar night season, with temperatures around negative twenty or thirty degrees.

“There’s nothing to do except stay indoors. And visas take time to process. We’re leaving next month. It’s impossible to arrange in time.”

Julian replied instantly.

“Visas are an admin problem. If they can’t handle it, that’s just incompetence. And as for the cold, you just don’t understand the beauty of it. The romance of the northern lights isn’t something a tacky island can compare to.”

Then he suddenly changed direction.

“Besides, with a ten-thousand-per-person budget, a trip to the Azure Haven Islands probably means basic beach villas anyway. If we can’t go to Nordhaven, honestly there’s no need for a company trip at all.”

He started a poll in the group chat.

“Suggestions for the company trip:

“A. Go suffer in the Azure Haven Islands (too hot, exhausting, and probably sharing rooms with coworkers)

“B. Convert the ten thousand into cash so everyone can do their own thing (wouldn’t buying a watch or new sneakers be way better?)”

After posting the poll, he tagged everyone again.

“Don’t kid yourselves. Company retreats are just work in a different location. You still have to keep the boss happy and sit through all those cringe team-building games.

“It’s exhausting. Cash is way better. Ten grand! That’s enough for a nice watch or several months of mortgage payments.”

As soon as the poll appeared, the numbers started jumping wildly.

At first a few people chose A, probably those who actually wanted to travel.

But after Julian posted, “Anyone choosing A must be stupid. Who turns down free money?” the votes quickly changed.

Those who had picked A withdrew their votes and switched to B.

In less than ten minutes, out of the thirty people in the company, everyone except me and Ian chose B.

The tone in the chat began to turn sarcastic.

Maggie: “Mr. Shaw, since the budget’s already there, why not just give it to us directly? I just had my second baby, and the expenses are piling up. That ten thousand would really help.”

Daniel: “Yeah, Mr. Shaw. None of us really want a company trip. We just want to rest. Work is already exhausting. If we finally get a break, spending it with coworkers still feels stressful. Cash would make everyone happier.”

Eric: “Julian’s right. With ten thousand, I could travel several times on my own. When companies organize trips, there are always kickbacks. By the time the money is actually spent, that ten thousand probably turns into four thousand. It’s a bad deal.”

Julian sent a smug meme. “The people have spoken. Mr. Shaw, better listen to the will of the masses.”

I looked at the messages and felt nothing but absurdity.

That ten-thousand-dollar budget was coming entirely from my personal account. I had planned to pay for the trip out of my own pocket.

Now not only did they refuse to go, they wanted to pocket the money instead.

Why?

Because they had the nerve to ask?

I took a deep breath and typed into the group chat.

“Since no one wants to go, the company trip is canceled.”

The chat fell silent for a second.

Everyone was waiting for the words “cash payout.”

Slowly, I typed the next line.

“As for converting it into cash, company policy states that team-building funds are designated benefits and must be used for that purpose only. If no trip takes place, the funds return to the company and will not be distributed.”