Fired over Three Apples

Because I ate three of the company's apples, my boss fired me on the spot. "This company has no use for an employee like you, someone who abuses their position to help themselves to company property." For ten whole years, I stood by this studio as it grew from a tiny backroom operation into what it is today. The toughest orders, the most difficult clients, the projects that left everyone gasping for air. Nearly all of them were carried on my shoulders. And now, just three apples had become my boss's "proof" that I was "misappropriating company resources." Worse, they got me branded as a petty freeloader. I didn't argue. I took out my phone and dialed Matt Kilcher's number. "Mr. Kilcher, about that million-dollar photo shoot we finalized, there's no need to sign with this studio. Every order from here on out goes to my new team." Chapter 1 Three days earlier, I'd pulled three all-nighters with my team and finally landed the company a million-dollar photo shoot. To show his appreciation for our professionalism, our client, Matt Kilcher, had a big box of premium imported Honeycrisp apples sent over to the office. That afternoon, when the courier carried the box in, Rick McCutcheon eagerly sliced it open with a box cutter himself, right in front of the entire studio. The bright red apples gave off a sweet, tempting fragrance. Standing in the middle of the office with a magnanimous grin, he announced, "This is a holiday gift from Mr. Kilcher. You've all been working hard lately, so help yourselves." He acted as though he'd paid for the expensive fruit out of his own pocket to reward his staff. But none of the studio's veteran employees even dared to look up. Every one of us knew exactly what was going on. Rick had no bottom line whatsoever. The only thing that defined him was his downright pathological stinginess. Just how cheap was he? In the summer, the office temperature had to climb above 32°C before anyone was allowed to turn on the air conditioning. If it ran even a minute too long, he'd screenshot the security footage and dock the office administrator's performance pay. He made everyone water down the hand soap by the sink. After being diluted a dozen times, it was so thin it couldn't even work up a lather. It was basically a bottle of tap water. If someone so much as charged their phone at their desk, he'd post a long, snide rant in the company group chat in the middle of the night, accusing people of shamelessly stealing the company's electricity and treating the office like a free charging station. So who would actually dare to take one of those premium apples, supposedly worth fifteen dollars apiece? The two interns, both fresh out of college, huddled at their desks without so much as a glance toward the break room. Everyone would rather go downstairs and buy bottled water at the convenience store than touch any of Rick's "gifts." That night, I stayed late at my desk alone to rush out the first draft of the proposal for Mr. Kilcher's project. I kept at it until after nine. I hadn't even had time for a sip of hot water. Years of irregular meals had left my empty stomach churning with acid. I stared at my computer screen, seeing stars. I couldn't hold out any longer. I figured I'd eat something to tide me over before getting back to work, so I wouldn't pass out from low blood sugar at the office. So I went to the break room and took an apple from the box. I'd just carried it to the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse it when Rick appeared out of some pitch-black corner. He was too cheap to even turn on the hallway lights. Like a ghost, he fixed his eyes on what was in my hand. "Well, well, Josh. Quite the appetite you've got there," he said, his face cold and his voice dripping with sarcasm. I paused, not seeing anything wrong. "Rick, I'm working late on Mr. Kilcher's proposal. I didn't have time for dinner, so I grabbed an apple to tide me over." Rick sneered and took a step closer. "Working overtime means you're inefficient. You can't finish your work during the day, so how can you expect the company to pay for your dinner? "These imported apples cost fifteen dollars each. With one bite, you've taken a big chunk out of the company's profits." I was baffled. It sounded downright absurd. "Rick, these apples were a free gift from a client. The company didn't spend a cent on them. Besides, you're the one who told everyone to help themselves this afternoon." Rick's eyes went wide, as if I'd committed some unforgivable crime. "When I said help yourselves, I was just being polite as the boss. You actually took it seriously? "You've been here ten years. How do you still not understand the most basic workplace etiquette? "This is company property! If everyone stuffed their faces the second they saw something nice around here, like you just did, this company would go under tomorrow!" I stood there holding the half-rinsed apple, a chill running down my spine. I didn't want to argue with him over something this trivial. It would only drag me down to his level. Right in front of him, I bit into the apple, then turned and went back to my desk. I thought this was just another one of his usual stingy outbursts. I never imagined it was only the beginning of his campaign to crush and torment me. Chapter 2 Early the next morning, I'd barely opened my eyes when a company-wide announcement popped up in the work group chat. Rick had posted it at two in the morning, an entire block of bold red text. [OFFICIAL NOTICE: All company supplies, down to a single sheet of paper, a single drop of water, or a single paper cup, are company property.] [Under no circumstances may anyone use overtime as an excuse to take or consume company resources without permission.] [Violations will not be tolerated. Offenders will forfeit their entire performance bonus for the month and be reprimanded in front of the whole company!] The group chat went dead silent. Not a single person replied to acknowledge it. I knew these draconian rules had been written specifically for me. I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone aside. Swallowing my disgust, I grabbed my equipment and went straight to Mr. Kilcher's company. I spent the entire morning hammering out the shoot details with his team. From the lighting setup to the models' blocking, I personally checked and signed off on every step. To save the studio the cost of hiring a professional location-scouting team, I hauled the tripod and DSLR around by myself and spent over two hours taking measurements on-site. My clothes got soaked with sweat, dried, and then got soaked again. I didn't even have time for a bite of lunch. At two thirty that afternoon, I dragged my exhausted body back to the studio. The moment I walked in, our intern, Terry Carhart, shot me a nervous look. I was too tired to say a word and collapsed into my chair. My stomach was completely empty. I was so hungry that my fingertips trembled on the keyboard. I thought about ordering delivery, but my next multi-party video call started in ten minutes. There was no time to wait. Then I remembered the box of apples in the storage room. Rick's snide remarks from the day before had been disgusting, but I was starving and needed a little sugar. I figured that after last night, now that he'd posted his announcement, he had to have gotten it out of his system. After all, I'd just secured the deposit for a million-dollar project, and I'd spent the whole morning saving him money. I went into the storage room and picked up a second apple. The moment I turned around, there was Rick, blocking the doorway with that same thermos he always carried. His face was terrifyingly dark, as if I'd just stolen cash from his safe. "Josh, you just don't know when to quit, do you?" Rick didn't raise his voice, but every word was laced with spite. "You ate one last night, and now you're eating another one in broad daylight. Do you really think this company is a free buffet?" I fought through the cramping in my stomach and kept my voice as calm and reasonable as I could. "Rick, I just got back from Mr. Kilcher's. The deposit has already been transferred to the company account. "I skipped lunch to save money, and I've got a cross-department meeting starting any minute. I'm just grabbing an apple to keep myself going." Rick didn't listen to a word of my explanation. He slammed his thermos down on the table beside him with a loud bang. "Don't you dare use the client to pressure me! "Bringing in business is your job. The company pays your base salary, so this is exactly what you're supposed to be doing! "But that's absolutely no excuse for stealing company property! "Do you know how bad the economy is out there right now? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me, as the boss, to support all of you? "I am kind enough to give you a platform to work on, and instead of showing some gratitude, all you ever think about is milking the company dry?" His tirade left me stunned. Ten years of friendship had never seemed as laughable as it did in that moment. "Rick, you're calling one apple that somebody gave us milking the company? "I landed you a million-dollar deal, and you're nickel-and-diming me over fifteen bucks?" Rick's face went cold, and he pointed at me with total self-righteousness. "That million dollars is the company's money. What does it have to do with you? "As long as you work for this company, even for one more day, every single thing a client gives us, down to the last needle and thread, belongs to the company. "Every bite of that apple eats into the company's profits. It's like cutting a piece out of my heart! "At best, what you're doing is petty greed. At worst, it's embezzlement!" Looking at his face, twisted by his extreme stinginess, I finally understood. He wasn't joking, and this wasn't about one small incident. He genuinely believed that by eating fifteen dollars' worth of his apples, I was trying to kill him. In his mind, employees were nothing but working machines that didn't deserve a single extra perk. I couldn't be bothered with his sick, petty cheapness. Right in front of him, I took a big, crunching bite out of the apple without a shred of hesitation. The crisp sound of my chewing echoed through the quiet hallway like a loud slap across the face. Rick shook with rage, his finger trembling as he pointed at me. "Fine, Josh. Fine. Let's see how long you can keep up this attitude!" He stormed out of the storage room. Chapter 3 On the third day, I was supervising an outdoor shoot on location in the suburbs that afternoon when the weather turned against us and a sudden downpour hit. To protect the studio's expensive camera equipment, I took off my jacket and wrapped it tightly around our two main cameras and the full set of lenses. Not a single drop got into the gear, but I was drenched to the bone. The cold October rain chilled me straight through. By the time I got back to the studio, I'd started running a low fever. My soaked clothes clung to my body, and my old stomach problem flared up with a vengeance. It felt like I'd swallowed a handful of broken glass, and every breath brought another wave of twisting pain. I dug out the stomach medicine I kept in my drawer. But when I took a cup to the break room, I found the water cooler had long since run dry. To save money, Rick had ordered the bottled water delivery canceled two months earlier. He claimed boiled tap water was healthier, but really, he just wanted to save the few hundred dollars a month it cost. And now even the cheap electric kettle had been broken for two days, and he still refused to approve the money for a new one. I had no way to take my medicine. The intense pain had me breaking out in a cold sweat, and my vision began to blur. Bracing myself against the wall, I stumbled into the storage room. The box of Honeycrisp apples sat right where it had always been. After the trouble of the past two days, no one had dared to touch it. Aside from the two I'd taken, every apple was still there, lined up neatly inside as if to mock my wretched state. To get the dry pills down, I gritted my teeth and picked up a third apple. I figured the juice from the fruit would help me force the medicine down in a pinch. I'd barely raised the apple to my mouth, without even getting a bite in, when a shout exploded through the office. "JOSH!" The roar was so shrill that Rick's voice cracked. Like a feral cat whose tail had been stepped on, he came charging in from outside. He viciously smacked the medicine out of my hand, and the white pills scattered across the floor. He jabbed a finger at my nose and started screaming at the top of his lungs. "Everyone, stop what you're doing! Look over here!" Rick yelled to every employee out front. Terry and our other intern, Buck Collins, were so frightened they trembled. They both shot to their feet, at a loss for what to do, barely daring to breathe. Rick pointed at the apple in my hand, his face twisted like a vengeful demon's. "Look, everyone! This is the Josh you all respect so much! This is our so-called ten-year veteran! "Eating whatever he wants, taking whatever he wants, and shamelessly exploiting the company at every turn! "One on the first day, another on the second day, and today, he has the nerve to eat another one! "What's next? You planning to haul everything in this company back to your house?" Clutching my aching stomach, I leaned against the wall and looked at him. "Rick... I have a fever, and my stomach's acting up... There's no water to take my medicine with..." I explained weakly, every word accompanied by a convulsing stab of pain. I pointed at the pills scattered on the floor. But Rick didn't care whether I lived or died. All he could see was the apple in my hand. "Stop playing the victim! Does a stomachache give you the right to take company property whenever you feel like it? "You pull in such a fat commission every month, and you still have to squeeze the company for the price of some fruit! "These three apples add up to forty-five dollars! "That's the same as stealing forty-five dollars in cash from the company! "I don't think you come here to work at all. You come here to suck this company dry like a bloodsucker!" Listening to his illogical, vicious words and looking at that face, made hideous by his greed, I gave up on him completely. Chapter 4 Over the past ten years, I'd slept on floors to save Rick money and lived on boxed mac and cheese for two months straight. To help him land difficult clients, I'd drunk so much hard liquor that my stomach started bleeding and I ended up in the ER. I'd made this company tens of millions of dollars in profit. Yet, in his eyes, I didn't even deserve three apples. He wasn't upholding some stupid rule. He was simply savoring the thrill of lording it over me and keeping me down. His incredibly petty nature couldn't stand anyone getting even the slightest advantage at his expense. I let go. The apple fell to the floor and rolled to Rick's feet. "Keep your apple. I'm not eating it." I forced myself to stand up straight and looked at him coldly. Rick stared at the apple on the floor and sucked in a sharp breath, as if it physically pained him. "Fine. Fine, Josh. You do something wrong, and you still have the nerve to give me attitude? Just you wait!" He spun around in a fury and stormed into his office. I stayed where I was and wiped the cold sweat from my forehead. This morning, I'd only just clocked in, still not fully recovered, when Rick called me into his office. "Company resources aren't yours to hog. I've been watching you for days. Every single day, you've taken the company's apples. "This company doesn't need a greedy employee who's always looking to take advantage. You're fired." Sitting in his enormous executive chair, he smugly pronounced my death sentence. Standing there in his office, I froze. I looked at Rick, then at this office I'd personally helped design and renovate. Even the excuse he'd come up with to fire me was this cheap. "Rick, you can fire me." I looked at him and asked the question that mattered most. "But what about my commission on Mr. Kilcher's million-dollar project? I locked in the deposit just two days ago. By the rules, you owe me a two-hundred-thousand-dollar commission." At the words "commission" and "two hundred thousand," a flash of naked greed lit up Rick's eyes. He sneered and leaned back in his chair with total self-righteousness, arms crossed over his chest. "You're being fired for a serious violation of company policy. That's gross misconduct. "You're lucky I'm not making you pay damages for hurting the company's reputation, and you still want a commission? "As of today, you have nothing to do with Mr. Kilcher's project. All your bonuses are forfeited." Instantly, I understood. Violating company policy, eating three of his apples, milking the company... It was all a premeditated chain of traps he'd set so he wouldn't have to pay me that huge commission. He was so stingy that he couldn't bear to part with the two hundred thousand dollars that were rightfully mine. Now that the million-dollar deal was in the bag, he couldn't wait to get rid of me. So he'd stooped to the lowest possible tactics to disgust me and crush me, even humiliating me in front of everyone. Then he could neatly kick me out at zero cost and keep all my hard work and the project's profits for himself. Now that I'd seen through his nauseating scheme, the last spark inside me went out completely. Arguing with someone without a shred of decency was a waste of breath. I didn't argue. I quietly took out my phone and pulled up my contacts. I found Mr. Kilcher's number and called it, putting it on speaker while I was at it. "Hello, Josh! Morning. I was just about to ask you about the set design for the venue." Mr. Kilcher's hearty voice came through the phone's speaker. Rick's expression changed instantly. I took a step back and spoke directly into the phone. "Mr. Kilcher, about that million-dollar photo shoot we finalized. There's no need to sign with this studio. "Every order from here on out will go to my personal new team. I'll take personal responsibility for everything from start to finish."