Floy Kautzer Facebook ad: “Humanized Rules and Regulations”

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832513176221331

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As a department manager, I volunteered to cover the holiday shifts every year so my employees could have time off. But this year, the new intern posted the duty roster straight to the company group chat: "The company policy says we rotate shifts during holidays. Why does the roster only have Manager Payton's name?" "Everyone on holiday duty gets triple pay. Has she been pocketing all that money herself?" The boss slammed the table: "Restore the rotation immediately, and you're suspended pending investigation!" I admitted fault humbly and issued a correction notice: "Per company notice, starting this holiday, each employee will cover two shifts. No swapping or trading." "During your shift, follow standard work procedures—be available 24/7 to communicate with clients. A one-minute delay results in a twenty-dollar fine. Any delay affecting a project partnership leads to direct liability and compensation." The moment the notice was posted, the department group exploded. --- This year, I posted my usual roster—my name only—in the department's small group. The group erupted in celebration: "Yes! Just waiting for you to post that, Manager Payton!" "Manager Payton's been covering the holiday every year. Who else gets to enjoy the whole break, right?!" Screenshots of flight tickets, hotel bookings, and travel itineraries filled the chat. Watching the animated chatter about everyone's vacation plans, I couldn't help smiling. Then a message cut through the noise: "Company policy is that everyone rotates for holiday duty. Why does the roster say only Manager Payton?" Skye, the new intern, typed furiously: "Holiday duty pays triple time, no real work required—why do you get all that for yourself?" The group went dead silent. I knew that roster was a loophole. I used it so my employees could enjoy their full holiday off. Everyone had stayed quiet about it for years. I assumed the intern didn't understand, so I explained quickly: "Everyone wants to use the entire break to travel, so I volunteered to stay." "Early May is busy—we have long-term US clients coming for handovers. I'm not just sitting around; it's real daily work." Every year in early May, we had that fixed US client contract renewal. The contact person on their side was always meticulous, obsessed with details. Sometimes cross-border meetings would go on all night. For others, the holiday meant rest and relaxation. But for me, it meant endless late-night hours revising proposals. Last year, I had a sudden case of acute gastroenteritis and had to attend video conferences while hooked up to an IV. I thought explaining it like this would make the intern understand. But Skye just sent an eye-rolling emoji with a sarcastic twist: "Oh, now I get it." Then suddenly, a message tagged me in the main company group: "Manager Payton, please explain. Company policy says holiday shifts need three people rotating each day, each getting triple pay." "But this roster only has your name." "I have reasonable suspicion that you've been submitting a proper rotation schedule to the company, but privately arranging only yourself on duty, pocketing all the triple pay that should be ours." "Not to mention that big clients come in early May—who knows if you scheduled only yourself so you could take kickbacks from the clients?" The main group erupted: "You can do that with holiday shifts? Then I want to rotate every day too." "Every working stiff is here for the money. If anyone dares to steal my triple pay, I'll fight them!" I put down my phone and met Skye's triumphant gaze. She carried a stack of proposals, clicked her heels, and walked over. As she passed me, she deliberately slowed down: "Manager Payton, you should spend less time on shady tricks and more time on your actual work. That's what matters." Those words were familiar. I understood immediately what was going on. Last month, the first time Skye came with me to a client meeting, she deliberately wore a strapless top. During the drinks, she kept pressing against the male client, completely ignoring the female director who could actually finalize the proposal. Back then, I thought she was just naive and young, so I gave her a gentle reminder. But a few days later, I found her privately contacting the male client, chatting warmly on WeChat. I couldn't help frowning. I called her into the meeting room alone and said exactly those words: "Skye, spend less time on shady tricks and more on your work." She pouted and nodded, looking wronged. I thought she understood her mistake. Little did I know she was holding a grudge. She waited until today to drop a bombshell. I decided to talk to Skye. Just as I stood up, Colson from the next desk came over. "Manager Payton, we'll let the holiday duty thing slide. Just give us the money." I almost couldn't believe my ears: "What? Pay you?" "Yeah." Colson received looks of support from several veteran employees and grew bolder. "Since you've been covering for us all these years, you owe us the money we should have gotten." "Counting from five years ago—triple pay every Labor Day, plus project bonuses and kickbacks from clients—you should pay each of us twenty thousand!" At that, Ronan perked up: "Yeah, Manager Payton. You've been submitting fake rosters for years, and we never exposed you." "It's only twenty thousand. You're not going to refuse, are you?" I looked around the room, saw the greed in every one of their eyes. The anger I'd felt earlier was gone, replaced by a deep exhaustion. "Colson, last holiday you were getting married. Your module was unfinished, so I worked until 3 a.m. every day to finish it for you." "Ronan, when your wife had a heart attack and was hospitalized, you came in late and left early every day, doing work from the hospital. I clocked you in every day so you wouldn't have to worry." "Should I count up what you owe me for all that?" Colson twisted his shirt hem and looked down, unable to meet my eyes. Ronan muttered under his breath: "One thing at a time. Who knows how much you pocketed on the side." My phone suddenly buzzed nonstop. Message alerts came one after another. In the main company group, a handwritten "joint letter" appeared. "Manager Payton has submitted fake shift rosters, docked employee wages and benefits, and secretly taken kickbacks. She should compensate us and be fired!" Below it, a column of signatures—all familiar employees. I looked up sharply. Everyone I made eye contact with looked away, unable to face me. My phone rang. The boss's angry roar came through: "Payton, get to my office immediately!" In the office, Philip was sitting with a smug Skye at his side. Philip pounded the table: "Payton, as department manager, why did you openly violate company policy?" Once this was brought into the open, I had no defense. I lowered my head: "I'm sorry, Philip. I was wrong." Philip's face darkened: "Do you know how much impact this has on the company?" "All the employees are up in arms, demanding transparency on holiday pay and project splits!" "Suspend all your work immediately and resolve this now!" Skye tossed her hair back, her expression mocking: "Some people think too highly of themselves. Now you're crawling back to lick our boots like a dog?" Yeah. I gave up my own time and energy so my employees could have time off. And in the end, they drive me out like a dog. I ignored her and posted a new holiday shift roster in the group. "During this Labor Day holiday, shifts will follow company policy: each person covers two shifts. No late arrivals, no early departures, no swapping or trading." "During your shift, follow standard work procedures—be available 24/7 to communicate with clients. A one-minute delay results in a twenty-dollar fine. Any delay affecting a project partnership leads to direct liability and compensation." One minute after the message. Everyone in the department stared at their phones, exploding. "You're posting a shift notice now? What about my high-speed rail tickets?" "I've already booked my Labor Day trip. Who has time to be on call 24/7?" Colson jumped up: "We just want the money. Who wants to work?" He shook his phone angrily: "There's no real work during holidays. You can do everything remotely. Coming to the office is just playing on your phone." "Since you took our money, it's only right that you cover our shifts." I replied calmly: "If shifts are so easy, why don't you want them now?" Colson was speechless. Skye walked over, looking at him with exasperation: "So what if you have to work a shift? You can just go have fun anyway." "These are old clients. The proposals don't need any changes—just copy and paste, right?" Copy and paste? I laughed. Every year, the clients had new requirements—either change the logo or replace the font. Details took more than ten pages of A4 paper. If I handed this project over to them, the moment the client was dissatisfied, they'd pull their funding. The company's cash flow would break. Skye turned to me: "Manager Payton, give us access to the work documents. We'll handle the US client from now on." I shut down my computer in front of her: "I brought in the client. I wrote the proposal." "You're just an intern. What makes you think you can take over from me?" "You!" Skye's face twisted. "Just you wait." The next day, a hashtag slowly climbed the trending list. "Menopause-age female leader harasses employees, humiliates the company overseas?" The poster wrote: "Our female manager is a total misandrist and misogynist. When I get even close to a male client, she gets jealous and throws a tantrum." "We're all supposed to get triple pay for holiday shifts, but she keeps it all." "Now she's been caught taking kickbacks in client deals, and she refuses to admit it. She yells at anyone who calls her out." Attached was a shaky video, clearly filmed secretly. After Skye demanded the document access, the first half of what I said was cut out. Only one sentence remained: "You're just an intern. What makes you think you can take over from me?" Netizens ate it up, siding with the poster: "How is this woman still alive? She should be strung up from a lamppost!" "Support the poster—steal her client and piss that old hag off!" "Post her home address! Let's see how tough this workplace bully is!" At the same time, I received an email from a client. The content was simple, just one line: "Miss Payton, please explain this." Attached was the trending link in English and the joint complaint letter from the company. I quickly sent an email to explain, but it disappeared into the void. I rushed to the office. My desk was empty. My work computer had been taken away. All my personal belongings were packed into a cardboard box, thrown by the door. Skye was using my work computer, sipping an Americano: "Sorry, Manager Payton. I've taken over your position now." Rage surged through my chest. I kicked open Philip's office door and slammed my phone on his desk. "What does this mean? Are you trying to fire me? Have you verified the evidence in the email?" "I can accept a suspension from other work, but this project cannot afford any mistakes!" Philip frowned: "It doesn't matter if the email evidence is verified. The damage is done. The client doesn't trust you anymore. Replacing you is the best option." "Besides, we're not firing you—just suspending you pending investigation. Of course, all work needs to be handed over." "Take this holiday to rest. Go home now." I let out a cold laugh. I knew the company's tactics well. First suspend, then distribute your projects, then transfer you to a dead-end position with menial tasks. Force the employee to resign so the company doesn't have to pay severance. "You're profiting off my proposals, poaching my clients, and suspending me—you're sucking the blood from my bones!" Philip's face darkened: "Payton, watch your mouth!" "The client's requirements are the same every year. What's there to revise in the proposals? Don't think so highly of yourself!" "Without you this Labor Day, is the company going to go bankrupt?" He called security. Soon, several uniformed guards came up. They grabbed my arms on each side and threw me out. I hit the cold tile floor, feeling like my dignity had shattered with me. Skye passed by the door and sneered at me. "Without you, the holiday goes on, and we get triple pay." "Face it—you're just a useless parasite." "I suggest you cough up the money, or it won't end with just a suspension." With that, she swaggered away. I went back to my rented room and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. On WeChat Moments, Skye was posting a photo of herself in a swimsuit: "Going shark diving in Malaysia for Labor Day! Anyone want to come?" Colson posted a picture of two hands clasped together, captioned: "Celebrating our wedding anniversary with my love." Their posts were light and carefree, as if their names weren't even on that shift roster. I opened my personal computer. My work document access had been revoked. The latest edit entry was five minutes ago— Skye had deleted my proposal and copy-pasted last year's. In the client group, she had already sent the proposal. Her chat box only left a taunt: "Such simple work. What was Manager Payton so afraid of?" Then she logged out of her work account. Completely ignoring the cross-border meeting notification in the group. At 2 a.m., US working hours. The online meeting had been running for thirty minutes, but no one from our side showed up. Aria, the client, kept demanding: "Where is the contact person? Why isn't anyone online?" "Why is the phone off? Are you refusing to continue working with us?" She found the proposal in her email and immediately took a screenshot, posting angrily in the group: "What's this? You're giving us last year's proposal?" "You didn't even look at our design revision requests, did you? Is this your work ethic?" But without me pulling all-nighters for the cross-border meetings, the group was dead silent. Aria and the other contacts called over and over. Messages came one after another: "I'm giving you one day to explain and revise the proposal according to the details." "Otherwise, we'll withdraw all upfront funding and terminate future cooperation." Time ticked by. US working hours ended. The online meeting room was empty. I woke up to my phone buzzing nonstop with calls. Philip's trembling voice came through, like a thunderclap in the early morning: "Payton, get back here immediately. The client has pulled their funding!"

Where the ad sends people

001.novelmuster.com

Humanized Rules and Regulations