He called me a “Rockstar” to get me to work for free. But when I found out he was cashing in on my burnout, I decided to show him exactly what a “minimum effort” employee looks like.
“We just need to push through this quarter,” my boss, Greg, told me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s a grind, but I’m putting you in the pipeline for the Director role. I need you to show upper management you’re a team player.”
I believed him. For six months, I was the ultimate “team player.” I absorbed the workload of two colleagues who had quit. I worked weekends. I stayed until 9 PM every night. I fixed server crashes at 3 AM. I was doing the work of an entire department for the salary of a mid-level manager, fueled by caffeine and the promise of that Director title.
I thought I was paying my dues. In reality, I was paying for Greg’s new Porsche.
The Paper Trail
The illusion shattered on a Tuesday afternoon. I walked past the communal printer and saw a document sitting in the tray. It was a budget approval email that Greg had printed out and forgotten.
Curiosity got the better of me. I glanced at it.
It was a breakdown of the department’s “Under-Budget Savings.”
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Open Headcount Savings: $120,000 (The two people he never replaced).
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Overtime Payouts: $0 (Because I was salaried and exempt).
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Resulting Performance Bonus for Dept Head (Greg): $52,000.
I felt like I had been punched in the gut. He wasn’t “fighting to get headcount approved” like he claimed. He was intentionally keeping the department understaffed, working me into an early grave, and pocketing the surplus budget as a performance bonus for “efficiency.”
I wasn’t a rockstar. I was a cash cow.
Operation: Act Your Wage
I walked back to my desk, sat down, and made a decision. I wouldn’t quit. Quitting would let him blame the failure on me leaving. No, I wanted him to fail while I was sitting right there.
I initiated a strict policy of Malicious Compliance.
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The 9-to-5 Hard Stop: My contract stated my hours were 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM. At 5:01 PM, my laptop was closed. My phone was off.
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The “Not My Job” Protocol: When Greg asked me to handle IT issues (not my role) or finance reports (not my role), I replied via email: “Per my job description, I am not authorized to access these systems. Please refer to the IT department.”
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The Paper Trail: Every time he gave me a verbal instruction to do something impossible, I emailed him: “Just confirming you want me to prioritize Task A over the critical deadline for Task B? Please advise.”
The Meltdown
The timing was perfect. The “Q4 Client Summit”—the biggest revenue event of the year—was two weeks away. Usually, I would have spent those two weeks building the presentation decks, analyzing the data, and prepping the logistics.
This time, I did exactly what my job description said: I managed my small team of three junior associates. Nothing more.
Three days before the summit, Greg strolled to my desk. “Hey, how’s the master deck coming along? I need to review it.”
I looked up, confused. “The master deck? That’s a Director-level responsibility, Greg. I assumed you were handling it since I’ve been focusing on my assigned KPIs.”
His face went pale. “But… you always do it.”
“I used to,” I smiled. “But I realized I was overstepping my boundaries. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. Plus, I don’t have the clearance for the financial slides.”
The Crash
Greg spiraled. He had no idea how to do the work I had been doing for him. He spent three days trying to slap together a presentation, but because he didn’t know the data, it was a mess.
The morning of the summit, the CEO was in the boardroom. Greg presented the deck. It was riddled with errors. The data was old. The formatting was broken.
When the CEO grilled him on the numbers, Greg tried to throw me under the bus. “Well, my team dropped the ball on the data prep.”
The CEO looked at me. “Is this true?”
I pulled out a printed copy of my job description and a stack of emails where Greg had explicitly signed off on my “focusing on core duties” (the trap I had laid for him).
“Actually, sir,” I said. “I completed all my assigned duties. The strategic overview is the Department Head’s responsibility. Also, we’ve been asking for headcount for six months to help with this workload, but Greg said there was no budget.”
The Aftermath
The audit started the next day. The CEO was furious about the botched presentation, but he was apoplectic when he found out about the “Efficiency Bonus.”
It turns out, the company takes a dim view of managers who sabotage client relationships to pad their own wallets.
Greg was fired for gross misconduct and embezzlement of company resources. He was escorted out of the building by security—the same security guard he used to ignore when he left early on Fridays.
I didn’t get the Director job—mainly because I realized the culture there was toxic and I left three months later for a better role. But on my last day, I walked past Greg’s empty office and felt a deep sense of peace. He wanted me to work for free. In the end, his greed cost him everything.
