They wouldn’t give me a raise to keep a roof over my head. Two weeks later, they had to pay me a year’s salary just to get me to answer the phone.
The meeting with HR was the most humiliating thirty minutes of my life. I had been with the company for five years, managing the legacy database for our largest client. During that time, the company had posted record profits for eight consecutive quarters. Meanwhile, my rent had just gone up by 30%, and I was choosing between gas for my commute and groceries.
I sat across from “Brad,” the HR Director, who was wearing a watch that cost more than my car. I laid out my budget. I showed him the market rates for my role (which were $25k higher). I pleaded my case.
Brad didn’t look at the papers. He leaned back, smirked, and said, “Look, we’re all tightening our belts. You should be grateful to have a steady paycheck in this economy. Maybe you just need to budget better. Have you tried cutting out the daily coffees?”
I don’t drink coffee. I drink tap water because it’s free.
That comment broke something in me. I realized that to them, my survival was an inconvenience. So, I took his advice. I decided to “budget better.”
Living in the Corporate Parking Lot
To save money, I gave up my apartment. I moved my clothes, a sleeping bag, and a gym bag into my 2012 Honda Civic.
For three months, I lived in the back of my sedan parked in the darkest corner of the company parking lot.
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The Shower: I joined a $10/month gym down the street to shower before work.
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The Food: I ate the free snacks in the breakroom for lunch and instant noodles for dinner.
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The Irony: I was literally homeless, sleeping 500 feet from the office where I managed a database worth millions of dollars, while the CEO bragged about “synergy” and “record growth.”
I was exhausted, cramped, and angry. But I was also focused. I spent those lonely nights in my car updating my resume and applying for jobs on my phone using the company Wi-Fi.
The Exit
I finally landed a new role. The starting salary was double what I was making.
I handed in my resignation on a Monday. Brad from HR barely looked up. “Standard two weeks,” he grunted. “Make sure you document everything.”
I tried. I really did. I set up meetings with the IT manager to hand over the encryption keys and the manual reset protocols for the client database. He cancelled on me three times. He was “too busy.”
On my last day, I sent an email with the subject line: IMPORTANT: Database Maintenance Protocols. No one replied. I walked out to my car, which I could finally drive to a real apartment, and blocked their numbers.
The Crash
The thing about the legacy database was that it had a “Dead Man’s Switch.” For security reasons, the encryption keys rolled over every 30 days. If they weren’t manually updated by an admin (me), the system would assume a breach and lock down completely.
Two weeks after I left, the rollover date hit.
I was at my new job, enjoying a coffee I actually paid for, when my personal email blew up.
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URGENT: SYSTEM DOWN.
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WHERE ARE THE KEYS?
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CALL US IMMEDIATELY.
Then came the voicemail from the CEO. He sounded like he was hyperventilating. “We are locked out of the Client X portal. They can’t process transactions. They are threatening to sue us for breach of contract. We know you know the override code. Call me back. Now.”
The Consultation Fee
I didn’t call back immediately. I let them sweat for three hours. When I finally answered, Brad from HR was on the line, his voice shaking.
“We need the encryption keys,” he demanded. “Just tell us the code.”
“I don’t work for you anymore, Brad,” I said calmly. “I provided the handover documentation, which was ignored. I am now a private contractor. If you want my expertise, you’ll have to hire me as a consultant.”
“Fine!” he yelled. “We’ll pay your hourly rate. What is it? $50? $100?”
“My rate is $20,000 for a one-time emergency consultation,” I said. “Payable via wire transfer immediately. Once the funds clear, I will email you the code.”
“That’s extortion!” he screamed.
“No, Brad,” I replied. “That’s budgeting.“
The Check Cleared
They paid it. They had no choice. The client was losing $100,000 an hour.
The wire hit my account 15 minutes later. I emailed them the code (which was literally in a folder on the shared drive they were too lazy to look for) and hung up.
With that $20,000 check, plus the money I saved living in my car, I put a down payment on a house. I finally have a home again. And every time I walk through my front door, I silently thank Brad. He was right—I just needed to budget better. And the best line item I ever cut from my budget was him.
