Expense Report Hell

When I submitted my expense report, Ms. Jenkins, the accountant, practically threw the receipts back at me. "New company policy," she snapped, her voice as crisp as a freshly ironed shirt. "Accommodations in major cities capped at $100 a night, food at $20. You're way over the limit!" "Seriously?" I stared at her, disbelief curdling in my gut. "I was in New York City! Even a budget motel like 'InnExpress' costs upwards of $300. What am I supposed to do, sleep on a park bench for $100 a night?" "That's not my problem," she said, her voice flat, her eyes unblinking. "It's Mr. Sterling's rule." I glanced down at the pile of receipts in my hand, nearly $50,000 worth. My last six months' salary, plus maxed-out credit cards, had barely kept me afloat. If they didn't reimburse me, I wouldn't even be able to afford groceries. Thinking of all my contributions to the company, the millions I'd brought in, I went to Mr. Sterling's office, clinging to a thread of naive hope. But he just waved me off. "I said it's a company rule," he repeated, not even bothering to look up from his computer. "Coming to me won't change anything!" 1 I’d been on the road for months, constantly traveling to nail down a multi-million-dollar project for the company. Now, with the project finally nearing completion, they were suddenly refusing to cover my travel expenses. Earlier, I’d tried to catch Ms. Jenkins in between trips back to the office to report on the project's progress, but she'd shut me down immediately. "Expense reports are only processed during the last week of the month," she’d declared. The problem was, the last week of every month was exactly when I had crucial project review meetings with the client. How on earth was I supposed to be in the office then? So, I had no choice but to wait until the very beginning of the last week, rush back to file my report, and then dash back to the client. And now, of course, my accommodation and dining expenses were "over budget." Ms. Jenkins had a face like a stone wall, repeating the same mantra over and over: "If Mr. Sterling signs it, I’ll process it." Armed with my stack of denied reports, I found Mr. Sterling. "Sir," I began, trying to keep my voice steady, "you can't possibly find a hotel in New York City for $100 a night." He scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. "Have you even tried? How can you be so certain it's impossible when you haven't made an effort?" "Even a budget motel like 'InnExpress' charges $300," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "I stayed in a dingy little inn for $150, which was already a steal. Go online, check it out!" Mr. Sterling smirked, pulled out his phone, and typed furiously. He quickly found a few youth hostels online, advertising beds for $50 a night. "See?" he crowed, holding up his screen. "Need me to book one for you?" "Those are hostels!" I retorted, exasperated. "Eight people to a room! That’s not a business trip, that’s a sleepover!" "And?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "If others can stay there, why can't you?" "Because I need to work overtime! I can't get anything done with eight people crammed into one room! And what about my personal belongings, my company laptop? What if they get stolen?" He paused, perhaps conceding the point. But then he typed away again, pulling up "InnExpress" locations in the outer boroughs or far-flung suburbs, like Staten Island. Sure enough, some listed rooms for $100. "Mr. Sterling," I said, barely containing my anger. "While technically part of New York, those locations are hours away. I'd need to take a commuter train just to get to the client's office!" He opened a map on his phone, scrutinizing it for a long moment. "Nonsense. There are buses! You just have to wake up earlier, that's all, Ethan." I bit back the urge to curse. "And $20 for meals isn't enough either. A basic sandwich and coffee in the city costs nearly that much!" "Ethan," he said, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin. "This is where I really need to set you straight. If you weren't traveling, wouldn't you pay for your own meals? Why should the company cover it just because you're on a trip? You have to eat whether you're traveling or not. The $20 is a perk, a bonus! It's at least enough for a budget meal service, isn't it?" I was utterly speechless. Along with the company's insistence on slow, uncomfortable regional trains, this was the "business travel package": endure a miserable journey, bunk in a hostel, and eat cheap, shared meals. Anyone who wanted that could have it! Watching his utterly shameless expression, I knew he wouldn't budge on the money. Fine. I'd give in. Even if I only got reimbursed at his ridiculous rates – $100 for lodging, $20 for meals – that still left over $40,000. I needed something back, especially since I was struggling to put food on the table. But then, unbelievably, even after I swallowed that bitter pill, Ms. Jenkins still wouldn't release the funds. 2 I trudged back to my cubicle, adjusted the reimbursement amounts on my report, and then headed back to Ms. Jenkins's desk. "Ms. Jenkins," I said, trying to sound reasonable, "how about this? Just reimburse me based on the $100 for lodging and $20 for meals, as per company policy." Ms. Jenkins took my report, glanced at it, and then tossed it back onto the counter. "Can't process it." My blood ran cold. "But I just agreed to your company's absurd policy! Why can't you process it now?" "The invoice amount doesn't match the reimbursement amount." "So what? The invoice amount is higher than the company's allowed expenditure! The national tax regulations even permit this kind of adjustment!" "The government might allow it, but Mr. Sterling doesn't. He requires the amounts to match exactly." My temper flared. "Ms. Jenkins, I haven't submitted an expense report in almost a year. I've personally covered over $50,000 for this company, and now I'm willing to settle for just $40,000-something based on your company's insane rules! Can you please, for the love of God, just process this?" "Mr. White," she said, her voice utterly devoid of emotion, "those are Mr. Sterling's requirements. Get his signature, and I'll process it immediately." Watching Ms. Jenkins, who seemed to be carved from granite, I knew arguing was futile. So, for the second time, I returned to Mr. Sterling's office. "Mr. Sterling," I began, trying to rein in my frustration, "Ms. Jenkins says the invoice amount is too high and needs your signature to be processed." He took the report, saw the reduced amount – over $10,000 less than the original – and a wide, gleeful smile spread across his face. "Ethan, my boy," he said, practically purring. "You know, a company this big can't be managed by people alone; it needs systems, it needs rules. Consider this a lesson learned. Normally, we don't allow such discrepancies, but I'll make an exception for you this one time. Don't let it happen again, though!" With that, he scrawled his signature on the report. He'd just swindled me out of over ten grand, of course he was happy to sign. Armed with Mr. Sterling's signature, I hurried back to the finance department. The moment I handed the report to Ms. Jenkins, she, once again, tossed it back. "Can't process it!" Hearing those words, my blood practically boiled. 3 "What now?!" I snapped, my voice dangerously high. "Company policy states a maximum reimbursement of $5,000 per month. You'll need to split that into nine separate reports. Go break it down and bring it back." I took a deep, shaky breath, fighting to keep my composure. "Ms. Jenkins, why couldn't you have told me all the problems at once?" "The company's financial policies are posted right there on the wall," she said, gesturing vaguely. "It's not my fault if you don't bother to read them." I looked up. Sure enough, a printed notice was tacked to the wall. Who the hell ever wandered into the finance department just to read notices? I felt myself about to explode, my voice rising with every word. "This reimbursement is for money I paid out for the company! This is money the company owes me, not a bonus or a salary! I spent nearly $50,000 of my own money, and you expect me to wait nine months to get it back? Are you going to pay me interest?" But, as always, her reply was the same emotionless drone: "It's Mr. Sterling's policy. Get his signature, and I'll process it immediately." Mr. Sterling again? Looking at Ms. Jenkins's unyielding expression, I knew further argument was pointless. So, once more, I trudged back to Mr. Sterling's office. "Mr. Sterling," I said, trying to maintain a shred of politeness. "Ms. Jenkins says there's a new company policy limiting reimbursements to $5,000 a month." "That's right," he said, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in his voice. "That's the rule." "But I've been traveling constantly, I haven't had time to come back and file reports. I've accumulated over half a year's worth of expenses! Even at your company's reduced rates, that's still over $40,000!" He didn't even lift his head. "Then split it up. Reimburse a little each month." "But I travel every single month! My new travel expenses alone will almost hit $5,000! By your company's rules, I'll never get my $40,000 back! This is money I paid for the company!" At that, Mr. Sterling slowly lifted his head. "Ethan, a company this large needs rules to function properly. You didn't file on time; that's your problem. And I just told you, I made an exception for you once, but it won't happen again. Why are you back?" "Mr. Sterling, I have crucial project meetings at the client's site at the end of every month! I can't possibly come back to the office! How am I supposed to file?" "See, Ethan, you're always so absolute. Have you even tried to find a solution? You haven't made an effort, so how can you say it's impossible?" "The client requires my presence at those meetings! I genuinely can't come back!" "You could always fill out the forms and mail the receipts in, couldn't you?" Are you kidding me? How was I supposed to know about all these ridiculous new rules that popped up out of nowhere? Besides, I had mailed them in once before, and Ms. Jenkins had complained my receipts weren't taped horizontally, letting them sit in her office for months. But if I told him that, he'd just retort, "Well, why couldn't you tape them horizontally then?" It was always something with him. He always had an answer, always a way to make it my fault. 4 I stormed out of Mr. Sterling's office, a boiling cauldron of rage. But what choice did I have? I had to get at least $5,000 out. My credit card bills were due, I needed to eat, and my entire salary had been sunk into these travel expenses. I was flat broke. Finally, on my fourth attempt, Ms. Jenkins accepted my expense report. Her face was still a blank mask. "Mr. White," she said, "this report is finally correct. It seems you've learned to follow our financial rules, haven't you?" If I weren't so desperate for the money, I might have slapped her. I bit back my anger and forced a question. "Thank you, Ms. Jenkins. When can I expect the reimbursement?" "If you're lucky, it'll be processed with next month's salary." My jaw dropped. It was already the end of the current month. Next month's salary wouldn't be paid until the middle of next month. That meant I wouldn't see a dime for nearly two months! I was counting on that money to eat! My last paycheck had immediately been swallowed by credit card debt. I was truly penniless. "Ms. Jenkins," I pleaded, "can't it be sooner? I'm genuinely out of money." "Mr. White," she droned, "that's just how the reimbursement process works. We have to verify receipts, reconcile accounts... it's not a quick turnaround." Processes. What was the point of all these processes except to trip up ordinary people like me? I decided to try a different angle. "Ms. Jenkins, could I get an advance on my salary for this month? I really, truly don't have money for food." Predictably, the same old line: "If Mr. Sterling signs it, I can process it!" "Ms. Jenkins, can you please, for once, try to see this from my perspective? I've effectively been paying to work for this company for over half a year! My salary and all my savings have been poured into travel expenses!" Ms. Jenkins's poker face remained impassive. "Get Mr. Sterling's signature, and I'll advance your salary immediately." I was starting to wonder if Ms. Jenkins was an AI, programmed with only one response: "If Mr. Sterling signs it, I'll do it." Defeated, I sought out Mr. Sterling again. To my surprise, he didn't refuse outright. "Ethan," he said, feigning sympathy. "You should know, advancing a salary incurs financial costs for the company. That money, sitting in the bank, earns interest. Since you're truly broke and need an advance for food, I can't just let you starve. But, business is business, and you'll have to bear the loss of that interest. How about this: I'll approve $5,000, and we'll calculate interest at 5%. So you'll actually receive $4,750, with $250 as interest." So, the old snake did understand the concept of capital costs? Then why wasn't he paying me interest for holding my money for so long? Today was a real eye-opener. From start to finish, he had me completely cornered. It really felt like I was paying to work here. But the thought of not being able to eat gnawed at me. I swallowed my pride and forced out the words, "Thank you, Mr. Sterling." "No need to thank me," he said, beaming. "Just work hard, Ethan, and repay the company with your performance!" Repay? Oh, I'd repay him alright. With interest. 5 The very next morning, just as I settled into my office, Mr. Thompson, our client from New York, called. "The end-of-month project review meeting is today," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. "Why aren't you here?" "My apologies, Mr. Thompson. Our company policy dictates that expense reports can only be filed at the end of the month. I had to return to the office for that. Perhaps my boss can arrange for someone else?" Mr. Thompson exploded. "Expense reports? Are you kidding me right now? You're missing a critical project meeting for expense reports? Do you know we're on the cusp of final acceptance? Everyone's working overtime, and you're filing expenses?!" "Mr. Thompson, please calm down," I tried to explain. "I haven't been reimbursed in over half a year. I literally didn't have money for food. If I hadn't come back yesterday, I might have been sleeping on the streets today." But Mr. Thompson wasn't listening. "I'm calling your boss right now! We'll see what's more important: your expenses or this project!" The second phase of the project had a potential budget in the tens of millions. Mr. Sterling wouldn't dare offend such a huge client. Sure enough, less than three minutes later, Mr. Sterling burst into my office, practically roaring. "The project is about to be accepted! Why are you still in the office?" "Mr. Sterling," I said, trying to keep my voice even, "I want to be there, but I don't have any money." "Didn't I just advance you $5,000?" he sputtered. "It was $4,750, actually. And it all went to pay off my credit card debt. Now I'm flat broke again. Can't afford a train ticket, can't stay in a hostel, certainly can't eat a budget shared meal." Mr. Sterling froze, stunned. But then his face hardened. "Are you trying to say you don't want your commission and project bonus?" I knew he'd try to scare me with that. "Mr. Sterling, if I stayed in New York, I don't know if the project would be finished, but I'd definitely be finished. I don't have a single dollar on me. I can't even buy a train ticket to New York, so how am I supposed to worry about project bonuses? Am I supposed to take out a payday loan?" "For the company, what's wrong with a small loan?" "Mr. Sterling, you take a 5% cut when you advance my salary, and now you want me to take out a payday loan for travel expenses, which would be another few percentage points? So my salary effectively gets discounted by 10% from now on?" Seeing my firm stance, Mr. Sterling finally gave in. As he walked out, he said, "Go to Ms. Jenkins and get another $5,000 advanced. Go now." "Will you still charge 5% interest?" I asked, pushing my luck. "Because if so, I don't think it's worth it." My words choked him for a moment. He finally spat out, "No! It'll be a company travel advance!" I immediately filled out the advance request form, found Mr. Sterling, who angrily scrawled his signature. "Ethan, don't do this again! Work comes first. Don't let a little money jeopardize project progress." A "little money"? He had some nerve. If not for his ridiculous rules, would I have willingly put myself through this miserable train journey back and forth to New York? Of course, my goal was to get the money. There was no need to burn bridges yet. So, I mumbled an agreement, went straight to Ms. Jenkins, and she quickly transferred the funds. Money in hand, I whistled my way back to my office and continued messing around on my phone. I had no intention of going back to New York to eat budget shared meals. 6 I hadn't been goofing off for long when Mr. Sterling, passing by, saw me lounging in my office. He stormed in, his face crimson with fury. "Mr. White, why are you still in the office? The client's project meeting is this afternoon!" "Mr. Sterling," I said calmly, "the $5,000 was only enough to pay off my credit card. Once that was done, I didn't have money left for a ticket." His face flushed even darker. "Are you doing this on purpose?" "I only came back because company policy dictates end-of-month reimbursement. I truly don't have any money. The $5,000 travel advance you gave me was automatically deducted by my credit card company the moment it hit my account. I'm as helpless as you are, Mr. Sterling." Before I could finish, Mr. Sterling's phone rang. I recognized Mr. Thompson's voice on the other end, unleashing a torrent of abuse at my boss, demanding that I show up at the project meeting that afternoon. I distinctly heard Mr. Thompson shout at Mr. Sterling, "Do you even want the second phase of this project?!" After he hung up, Mr. Sterling gritted his teeth. "Is your credit card paid off now?" "Still owe a little over $5,000," I replied. "Alright, look," he said, his voice strained. "Go to finance right now and get a $10,000 advance. Book a midday flight to New York!" He paused, then turned back. "No, forget it. I'll have my assistant book the flight. You just go get the money." It was clear Mr. Sterling was desperate. Before, he'd forced me to take slow regional trains, wouldn't even approve a faster commuter rail. Now, it was a same-day flight. I quickly checked; it was a full-fare ticket, over $2,000. Mr. Sterling's heart must have been bleeding. I found Ms. Jenkins again, presenting Mr. Sterling's signature for another $10,000 advance. Ms. Jenkins looked utterly incredulous. "Mr. White, you're truly something! You've managed to move $20,000 out of the company in just two days!" "Ms. Jenkins," I said, trying to maintain my calm. "You need to be precise with your language. I haven't gotten back what's rightfully mine yet. How is this 'moving money'? If anything, the company should have given me $50,000 yesterday. I'm still at a disadvantage here." Once I had the money, Mr. Sterling's assistant had already booked my flight. Time was tight, so Mr. Sterling even had his driver take me to the airport. I actually got a taste of the boss's treatment for once. However, after pushing Mr. Sterling this far, I knew my days at the company were numbered. He was begrudgingly approving these funds, undoubtedly banking on me completing the current project's acceptance and helping him secure the second phase. Once this project was done, I was certain he'd kick me to the curb. My 5% project commission would be around $200,000, plus the $30,000-plus in outstanding expenses. Getting that money back would be tricky. Good thing I had a backup plan.

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