Part 1Vanity Trip? Then No Perks

Every year, I organize a company trip over Founders' Week.

We've gone everywhere from the Silverpine Range to the Northreach, from the Coral Keys to the Wildgrass Plains. Sign-up is voluntary, and the trip costs an average of over $750 per person.

Anyone who doesn't go gets an extra $150 holiday stipend from the company.

But then a new intern posted online that I was hijacking everyone's time off for pointless team building just to feed my own vanity.

I posted one line in the company group chat:

"Since the trip is pointless, starting this year, all extra perks are canceled."

The next day, he confronted me in the chat:

"Fine, we can skip the trip. But why is the $150 gone too?"

I looked at the screen and laughed.

You can't keep only the most valuable piece of a benefit package and toss the rest.

* * *

Every year before Founders' Week, the biggest buzz around the office wasn't the holiday announcement.

It was the travel sign-up.

We weren't a big company, just over eighty employees.

Starting in my second year as founder, whenever the business could afford it, I set aside a budget for one employee trip a year.

The first year, we went to the canyon terraces at Copper Mesa.

The second, we did the High Basin desert loop.

After that came the Coral Keys, the Ashwood Highlands, the Silverpine Range, and the Wildgrass Plains.

The destination changed every year, but the standard never did.

Transportation, hotels, admission tickets, meals, and travel insurance were all paid by the company.

Employees could bring family members, but family expenses were their own.

The most important rule was that participation was completely voluntary.

Anyone who didn't sign up didn't have to explain why.

It had no effect on attendance, performance reviews, making it past probation, or promotion.

We also gave anyone who skipped the trip a $150 holiday stipend.

The stipend had originally been our finance manager's idea.

She'd pointed out that some employees wanted to go home for the holiday.

Some had elderly parents to care for.

One group trip was never going to suit everyone.

I agreed, so I wrote the cash alternative directly into the annual benefit plan.

For five years, nobody had ever been punished for staying home.

This year's destination was the Northreach route.

When the vendor quote came in, finance sent me the budget: about $780 per participating employee.

I signed off on it, and administration posted the registration link in the company group chat.

The chat immediately came alive.

"I'm in. I want to see Kestrel Lake."

"Can we fit in one horseback-riding day?"

"I want to bring my parents. I'll pay their share."

Paula Finch, our administration manager, had run the trip for five years.

She reminded everyone:

"Registration closes Friday at 6:00 p.m. Participation is voluntary. If you're not joining, choose the $150 holiday stipend in the form. Stipends will be paid before the break."

I had just finished reading her message when the conference-room door opened.

Trent Barlow stood there.

He had been with us less than a month.

He was a social-media intern assigned to our short-form video accounts.

Instead of sitting down, he asked:

"Mr. Kessler, does the company do this every year?"

"If business conditions allow it, yes."

"Why does it have to be Founders' Week?"

"Because people are already off and the itinerary is easier to plan."

Trent frowned.

"Founders' Week is employees' own time."

"That's why the trip is voluntary."

He ignored that answer and raised his voice.

"People always say it's voluntary. Who knows whether the boss remembers who doesn't go?"

The room went quiet.

Several employees who were filling out the form looked up.

I met his eyes.

"Do you have any evidence of that?"

He hesitated for half a second.

"Workplace pressure doesn't always leave evidence."

"If you don't have evidence, don't pass off a guess as a fact."

He stared at me, clearly surprised I had answered that directly.

Then he gave a short laugh.

"I'm only reminding people to protect their rights."

"They don't need reminding. The policy's right there on the screen."

I pointed toward the registration page.

"If you want to go, sign up. If you don't, take the stipend."

Trent glanced at the form and walked out.

I assumed that was the end of it.

The next morning, Paula sent me a screenshot.

The headline read:

BOSS FORCES EMPLOYEES TO SPEND THEIR HOLIDAY ON TEAM BUILDING JUST FOR SOCIAL MEDIA PHOTOS

The author was Trent Barlow.

I read the post once, then asked just one question.

"Did he sign up for the trip?"

Paula shook her head.

"No."

"Did he select the stipend?"

"No."

I opened the registration sheet.

Next to Trent's name, both boxes were blank.