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“The end? Why are you looking at the end of someone’s manuscript like a crackhead?”
I grin. “Because it’s mine. And Phillip’s going to edit it for me.”
Her eyes go wide. “Holy shit. I didn’t know you were writing a book. When were you going to let me know? I feel like this calls for a celebration or at least a quick drink. And when do I get to read it?”
I’ve only just begun to get used to the idea of showing it to Phillip. “Umm… I’m kind of nervous about anyone reading it…”
That’s when Trish walks into our cubicle. Typical. “You wrote a book? Holy fuck, that’s awesome.” Before I even have a chance to feel the embarrassment creep in, she does a 180 and changes subjects. “But more importantly, check your email. If I’m going to get fucked this hard, I expect some aftercare. You can tell your boyfriend that I said that.”
I frown, but I turn around in my chair and pull up my email. An email to the entire company from Phillip is sitting at the top of the list. The subject line reads, “Big changes for Loughton House”.
Oh, it must be him announcing the new positions he’s opened at the top of the food chain. But why would Trish be upset about that?
When I open the email, my heart sinks.
Loughton House, like all the other publishing houses, has consistently felt the strain of the digital age. Unlike our competitors, we’ve continued to grow regardless of the rising pressures, but this quarter marks the first time that our growth has slowed. We’re at a turning point, and we can’t ignore it any longer. Without change, Loughton House would be accepting a slow and painful death, and I refuse to allow that.
In order to gain a foothold in the shifting sands of the digital environment, we are creating a new division whose sole purpose is to make this transition into the future of publishing.
This is an exciting opportunity for the company, and it could push us into a new Golden Age. If you are interested in becoming a part of this division, there are openings posted already. We’d prefer to hire from within, but we will also look for outside hires. Interviews will begin next week as all of this will happen on a very fast timetable.
As with any growth, there is a cost. It pains me to say that in an effort to maintain our commitments and accommodate this growth, we will expect many employees to work a small amount of overtime consistently over the next six months as we transition. As everyone is salary, we will provide a bonus at the end of the year based on hours worked and projects completed as compensation. Details on the bonus structure will be forthcoming as things ramp up.
Thank you for your understanding.
Phillip Loughton, Owner of Loughton House Publishing
Fuck. I look up at Trish, who’s furious. He’s going to take advantage of the fact that everyone’s salaried so he can increase their work without any extra pay.
“Can you fucking believe that?” she hisses. I glance at Sera, who’s just as pissed. “If that son of a bitch tries to make me work weekends, I’ll fucking quit. That’s all there is to it.”
Sera nods. “I’ve been with Loughton House for three years. I still don’t make as much as newly hired cover designers at other companies. How can he expect me to work more without paying me?”
I feel torn. I know Phillip wouldn’t have sent out that email if it wasn’t necessary, but it still feels like a violation of the unspoken agreement between the employees and the company. We’re all salaried, so we don’t have any reason to dawdle on projects. Not so that we’ll work on extra projects during our time off.
“There has to be a good reason for it,” I say.
“Yeah, Loughton House is cheap and doesn’t want to pay us for our work,” Trish says. “The stingy bastards took my office and shoved me into a cubicle. They took away the snacks in the break room. They even started firing people for taking unauthorized long lunches. Now they’re making me work more hours without a raise? Fuck the Loughtons.”
“The email mentioned a bonus…”
Sera blinks at me. “Are you serious? I know that you and Phillip are a thing and all, but do you hear yourself? He’s making us work overtime for half a year. For a freaking bonus.”
What did you do, Phillip?
“I don’t know,” I say.
Trish leans against the cubicle wall. “Phil seems like a decent enough guy. Great singer. Funny. Also, a super dick for a boss. I think that’s a hill I’m ready to die on.” She grins. “I guess I’ve got a resume to polish up on company time.”
“You’re serious?” I ask. “You’d leave over this? What if this really is the only way to keep Loughton House alive?”
“If they expect me to work for free so they can survive, then it’s a sinking ship to begin with. Why can’t the Loughton family float the company’s finances since they’re the ones who’ll be making all the extra money? This isn’t my company, and they shouldn’t expect me to donate to the ‘Make the Loughtons Richer’ fund.”
She’s not wrong. Damn it, Phillip. Why are you doing this? “Don’t leave until I talk to Phillip. Please?”
Trish sighs. “Fine. I have to talk to John, anyway. But you can tell the boss that I’m not going to just accept this like I have with every other stupid way they’ve cut costs.”
I nod. I don’t blame her at all, but there has to be a reason for the changes. Phillip is running the company now. Not Russell. And Phillip knows what it’s like to be one of us. He’s experienced being poor and living on a shoestring budget. He gets it.
