Part 2Not One Penny Less

The next morning, at nine o’clock sharp, I showed up at the office.

The young receptionist looked surprised. “Amy? You… you’re coming in to work today?”

“For the handover,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, and asked no more questions.

I swiped my badge and went straight to the Finance department.

Finance occupied the entire third floor. I pushed the door open. A few people were scattered around. Brenda’s cubicle was in the far corner, by the window.

“Brenda.”

She looked up, her expression uneasy. “Amy? You haven’t left yet?”

“I wanted to check on my expense reports again.”

Brenda sighed and stood up. “Come on, I’ll take you to the archives.”

The archive room was at the end of the hall, a small space crammed with filing cabinets.

Brenda dug through a cabinet for a long time and pulled out a manila folder. “Here are your records. See, you submitted three applications last year. The first was in March, for $12,500; the second in August, for $18,900; the third in December, for $14,200—”

“That adds up to $45,600,” I said. “There’s still $22,400 I haven’t applied for.”

Brenda paused. “Why didn’t you apply for the rest?”

“Because every time I applied, you said the documents were incomplete, and asked me to supplement them. I supplemented them, then you said the receipts were non-compliant and asked me to re-tape them. I re-taped them, then you said the system was upgrading, the approval was frozen, and told me to wait until next month.”

I looked at her.

“I waited a year, and not a single dime was reimbursed. After that, I gave up trying and figured I’d just save them up and submit everything at once.”

Brenda didn’t speak.

“Brenda, I have a question for you,” I said. “Was the $45,600 ever reimbursed?”

“Yes, it was,” she said.

“Where’s the money?”

“It’s being processed.”

“For how long?”

“That… I’d have to check the system.”

“I’ll help you check.” I pulled out my phone and found a screenshot. “This is March 17th last year, when I submitted the first application. This is your Finance email, confirming receipt of materials. This is April 2nd, notifying me the materials were incomplete. April 10th, I supplemented them. April 15th, you said the receipts were non-compliant. April 20th, I re-taped the receipts. And May 8th, you said the system was upgraded and approval was frozen.”

I looked up at her.

“It is now March 2024. That one transaction has been ‘processed’ for an entire year.”

Brenda looked incredibly awkward.

“Amy, this isn’t my decision alone,” she said. “You know the Finance procedure. It needs Manager approval, Director approval, VP approval—”

“I know,” I nodded. “So I want to know: where is it stuck now?”

“I… I’ll have to look at the system.”

“You can look right now, can’t you?”

Brenda hesitated, walked to her computer, and typed a few keystrokes.

The screen lit up. She stared at it for a few seconds, and her expression changed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Your first application… was approved in April.”

“And the money?”

Brenda didn’t say anything.

I walked over and looked at the screen.

It read:

Application ID: EX-2023-0317-001

Application Amount: $12,548.50

Approval Status: Approved

Payment Status: PAID

Payment Date: May 12, 2023

I stared at the word “PAID” for ten seconds.

“Paid to whom?” I asked.

Brenda pulled up the payment details.

Recipient Account: L. A. Kim

Bank: Regional National Bank, Downtown Branch

“Whose account is this?” I asked.

Brenda’s hand was visibly shaking. “I don’t know… I really don’t know… Isn’t this your account?”

“My name is Amy Johnson,” I said. “That person’s name is Kim.”

The accounting office fell completely silent.

At noon, I got a call from Vanessa Hall, the HR Manager.

“Amy, be in the conference room at two o’clock this afternoon.”

“What for?”

“Regarding your expense issue.” She paused. “Rick will be there too.”

“Understood.”

I hung up and grabbed a quick bite in the cafeteria.

A few Sales team members were at the next table. They saw me, whispered amongst themselves, and then pretended not to notice me.

I understood.

The ‘fired’ person had a plague-like quality. No one wanted to be associated with them.

At two o’clock, I was in the conference room.

Rick, Vanessa, and Brenda—the same three people—sat lined up.

“Amy, have a seat,” Rick said. “We called you here today to clear up the expense matter.”

I sat down.

“Brenda looked into it this morning, and it seems there were indeed some issues with your reimbursement,” Rick looked at me. “One payment of over twelve thousand dollars was sent to an incorrect account. This was a clerical error by Finance, and the company will rectify it immediately.”

“What is the rectification plan?”

“We will recover the funds and then issue the payment to you.”

“How soon can you pay me?”

“That… requires following the proper procedure.”

Procedure again.

“Rick,” I said. “I have another sixty-five thousand dollars that hasn’t been reimbursed. How do you plan to handle the total amount?”

Rick and Brenda exchanged a glance.

“That amount, we’ll need to verify,” Brenda said. “Your record of $68,000 doesn’t exactly match ours—”

“Then let’s match them.” I pulled a file folder from my bag. “This is a record of every single business expense for the last three years: flights, hotels, meals, transport. Every item has a photo of the receipt, and every item has a bank statement proving I paid it myself.”

I pushed the folder onto the table.

“Three hundred and twelve transactions in total, adding up to $68,352,” I said. “Your system shows I applied for $45,600, and the actual amount received in my account is zero.”

Vanessa flipped through the folder, her face grim.

“Amy, this… this is a significant number. We need time to verify.”

“How much time?”

“A week?”

“I’ll be back in one week,” I said.

I stood up, taking my folder with me.

“And by the way, I will not be signing the separation agreement,” I said. “At least, not until the expense issue is fully resolved.”

Rick’s face darkened.

“Amy, what is this supposed to mean?”

“It means nothing,” I looked at him. “It means I want my money back. Is that too much to ask?”

I didn’t wait for his answer, turned, and left.

Back at my desk, my phone rang.

It was Mr. Graham, a key client.

“Amy, I heard you left?”

“I was ‘fired,’ but the process isn’t finished yet.”

“Ah, your company…” Mr. Graham sighed. “Let me tell you, I made sure the final project payment went through on time. If you have any issues on your end, let me know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Graham.”

“Say, if you are leaving,” he lowered his voice, “have you considered a change of scenery? I know a few friends in the industry. If you need a connection, I’d be happy to introduce you.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Graham.”

I hung up and leaned back in my chair.

Mr. Graham was the first major client I landed. Three years ago, I spent six months tracking him, flying to Atlanta twelve times alone, before finally closing the contract.

An eight-million-dollar project, the highest profit margin of the year.

My boss said: “Amy, you scored big!”

They gave me a three-thousand-dollar bonus.

Harrison in Sales, who closed nothing that year, got five thousand. Because he was a “long-term employee” and they “needed to maintain morale.”

I should have seen the writing on the wall then.

This company never paid based on contribution.

It paid based on friendship.