After I closed a $50 million deal for the company, my boss told me: "Honestly, you're really not as outstanding as Tiffany." Who? The intern I've been mentoring? Seeing my confusion, he doubled down: "Isn't it true?" "We've worked together for years, but you're always strictly business. No personal touch at all." "Unlike Tiffany. She hasn't even gotten her first paycheck, yet she paid out of her own pocket to buy everyone a latte." "She understands the principle of 'being a person before doing business' better than you do." I suddenly understood. You prefer a $3 latte over a $50 million contract, right? No problem! Right in front of his face, I dialed a number. "Is this Sarah? About that job offer you mentioned last week... I'm in." "Yes, I'm bringing a $50 million contract and over a hundred client accounts with me." 1 The final signature was inked on the project proposal. The $50 million letter of intent was a done deal. I dragged my exhausted body back to the office, feeling like I was about to fall apart after three consecutive all-nighters. My temples throbbed painfully. Just as I sat down, before the chair even warmed up, Tiffany walked in carrying a huge bag of coffee. She breezed through the cubicles and headed straight for the boss's office. Her voice was crisp, laced with that specific, careful eagerness to please that interns have. "Mr. Wallace, you've been working hard. Have a coffee to perk up." Soon, a cup of cheap coffee appeared on everyone's desk in the office. $3 a cup, thanks to a coupon deal on DoorDash. Tiffany used her meager intern salary to treat the entire team. For a moment, the office was filled with the sound of straws piercing lids and murmured thanks. My boss, David Wallace, walked out of his office holding that cup of coffee, his face glowing. He cleared his throat, and the air in the room seemed to freeze for a second. "Everyone got their coffee, right?" "This is from Tiffany, out of her own pocket. She said it's a treat for everyone's hard work lately." He raised the paper cup like he was making a toast. "This spirit Tiffany has is something we should all learn from." "An intern who hasn't even been paid yet, but knows gratitude, knows how to give back to the team." "What is this called? This is called knowing how to be a person! She has a bright future!" His gaze swept across the room, pausing on me for barely a second before moving on, as if I were just a potted plant on a desk. There was no praise in that look, no acknowledgment, not even a ripple of emotion. For this project, I led the team through a month of overtime, sleeping in the office for the last three days. The $50 million deal I secured was enough to support half the company's revenue for the coming year. Yet in this moment, the value of all that seemed to vanish into thin air. The air was thick with the cloying scent of cheap creamer, drilling into my nose and making me nauseous. Colleagues around me sipped their coffee, heads down. No one looked at me—maybe they didn't dare, or maybe they felt it wasn't necessary. Tiffany stood beside the boss, head slightly bowed. A shy, proper smile played on her lips, like a newly bloomed, harmless white lotus. The sheer absurdity of it washed away all my exhaustion. I stood up, washed my face, grabbed the signed contract, and knocked on David Wallace's door. "Come in." I placed the contract on his desk, concise as always. "David, it's done. Take a look." He leaned back in his chair, slowly took a sip of his latte, and then flipped through the contract. He didn't read the specific terms, just flipped to the signature on the last page, nodded, and pushed the contract aside. Then he looked up, scrutinizing me. My expression was probably blank. I couldn't even squeeze out a perfunctory smile. He saw it. He put down the coffee, interlaced his fingers on the desk, leaned forward slightly, and adopted a "fatherly advice" posture. "Jane, sit." I didn't move. He didn't care and started talking anyway. "Are you upset because I praised Tiffany out there and didn't mention your contribution?" 2 I remained silent. He sighed, as if disappointed by my lack of understanding. "Jane, to be honest, you really aren't as outstanding as Tiffany." He said this as casually as if commenting on the weather. I looked at him—this boss I had followed for seven years, helping him grow the company from a tiny workshop to its current scale. His face wore an earnest look of "I'm doing this for your own good." "We've worked together for so many years, but every time, you're strictly business. No personal touch at all." "Project finished, report submitted, and then what? Nothing." "Have you ever thought about how to win people's hearts? How to build team cohesion?" He pointed at the latte on the desk, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "Unlike Tiffany. She hasn't even gotten her paycheck, yet she paid out of her own pocket to buy everyone a coffee." "It's not much money, but that thoughtfulness? How many people can do that?" "She understands the principle of 'being a person before doing business' better than you do." I listened expressionlessly, my heart calm, even finding it a bit funny. So the $50 million I exchanged for my health and energy was worth less to him than a $3 latte. He seemed to forget that the project bonus for everyone in the team would be enough for them to buy a franchise of that coffee shop. I looked at his self-righteous face, slightly puffy from years of wining and dining. Suddenly, everything became clear. Moments from the past that I had deliberately ignored, comforting myself with "he's just focused on the work," now flashed through my mind like a movie reel. This wasn't the first time. Shortly after Tiffany arrived, we were bidding for a municipal project. He asked me to mentor her. Since she was new, I didn't dare give her core tasks, just let her review materials from my past projects to get familiar with the workflow. Meanwhile, I locked myself in a conference room with two others, grinding day and night for half a month to produce the bid proposal. Every figure was accurate to two decimal places; every plan had a risk assessment. Tiffany, finding the work I assigned too easy, spontaneously made a "conceptual" presentation using a PowerPoint template—only a dozen slides, but with beautiful graphics and cool animations. But at the final internal review meeting, David slammed my proposal on the table and pointed at Tiffany's PowerPoint. "Jane, look at this! This is visualization! This is user experience!" "Your report is hundreds of pages of dense text. Who has the patience to read that?" "Learn from her! Highlight the key points, make it clear at a glance!" He publicly praised Tiffany for being "inspired" and "understanding communication," completely ignoring my painstaking cost-benefit analysis. In the end, he demanded I "optimize" my proposal according to Tiffany's PPT style. I told him many ideas in that PPT were flashy but impractical and impossible to implement. He called me stubborn, inflexible, and "too rigid." I compromised. I spent two days stuffing my hard work into that hollow, flashy shell. We won the project, of course, because the core data and plans were mine. But at the celebration dinner, David specifically called Tiffany to the main table and said in front of everyone: "We won this thanks to Tiffany's creativity. Young people have such lively ideas." 3 Another time, to land a difficult client, I studied all their public information beforehand, even reading several industry papers the client had published. At the negotiation table, I pinpointed his pain points and proposed a partnership plan he couldn't refuse. On signing day, the client privately told me: "Jane, your professional capability is the strongest I've seen." The company held a celebration dinner. During the meal, Tiffany went around toasting the leaders, spouting flattering words that made David beam with joy. She even remembered David didn't eat cilantro, silently picking it out of the dish in front of him. After the dinner, in the parking lot, David stopped me, reeking of alcohol. "Jane, look at Tiffany. She knows how to handle people." "And you? You just buried your head and ate the whole time. The client was sitting next to you, and you didn't even chat with him." "Business isn't just about professional skills. When will you learn how to navigate social situations?" In that moment, I felt incredibly tired. I won the client with professionalism, by creating value for them. Not by flattering them at a dinner table or remembering their dietary restrictions. It's not that I can't do these tricks; I just disdain them. I thought that in the workplace, ultimately, results speak for themselves. Now I understand, I was wrong. In David's world, capability is important, but that's the baseline, taken for granted. The "social skills" that satisfy his vanity as a boss, making him feel respected and surrounded by admirers, are the bonus points. He doesn't need a warrior who can conquer territories; he needs a servant who knows how to kowtow. The company's business model is mature, the client base stable. In his eyes, my value has been squeezed dry. I am a high-speed machine that can now be replaced by countless younger, cheaper, more "personable" parts. He no longer needs a hero to open new frontiers; he needs a courtier to sing his praises. I watched his mouth still moving, spewing clichés about "growth" and "long-term vision." I confirmed it. The time had come. Seven years. I spent my best years here. I charged into battle for him, cleaned up countless messes, and created countless profits. I hold over half the company's core client resources in my hands and know the critical points of every link in the business line. I thought this was my career, the fruit of my blood and sweat. But now it seems I was just a self-important employee. Fine. I interrupted his lecture, my voice calm enough to surprise even myself. "...Mr. Wallace, you're right." He was still droning on, spittle almost flying onto my face. Those grand principles about "big picture," "EQ," and "team cohesion," coming from his greasy mouth, tasted like chewed-up sugarcane—flavorless. I looked at him and nodded solemnly during a pause in his speech. My face showed a perfect expression of "sudden realization" after being enlightened. "Mr. Wallace, I understand now." A smug look appeared on his face. He was about to add a few concluding remarks to wrap up this "teaching moment" perfectly. But I didn't give him the chance. Meeting his surprised gaze, I took my phone out of my pocket, unlocked it, found a number, and pressed dial. The call connected almost instantly. "Hello, Jane? Have you thought about it?" A capable, steady female voice came from the other end. I glanced at David. His expression shifted from smugness to shock, his brows furrowing tightly, eyes full of confusion and wariness. He thought I was acting, threatening him in a childish way. I put it on speaker. The voice wasn't loud, but clear enough for the other person in the office to hear. "Sarah, about the job offer you mentioned last week... I'm in." 4 David's pupils constricted sharply. I continued, my tone as calm as if confirming a regular order. "Yes, I can bring a $50 million annual contract and over a hundred core client resources I've maintained for years with me." "I'll email you the specific handover list and resource assessment tomorrow." "That's wonderful! Jane, I knew I didn't misjudge you!" Sarah's voice was filled with undisguised joy. "Don't worry, the salary and position will definitely satisfy you. We've reserved the largest share of the option pool for you. You are welcome anytime!" "Okay, thanks Sarah. I'll come over once I finish the procedures here." I hung up and put the phone back in my pocket. The whole process was smooth, without a single hitch. Deathly silence filled the office. David's face had gone from shocked to completely livid. His chest heaved violently, as if punched in the gut, unable to catch his breath. He stared at me, eyes a mix of disbelief and rage. "Jane!" He slammed the table, making the latte jump. "What is the meaning of this!" "Literal meaning." I said. "Mr. Wallace, you taught me: be a person first, then do business." "I think I should change places and learn how to 'be a person' properly." "You..." He was shaking with anger, pointing at my nose, lips trembling, unable to form a complete sentence. He probably never imagined that I, the stable, reliable, even "rigid" machine in his eyes, would one day pull my own plug. His anger finally found an outlet. He grabbed the internal phone, his voice shrill with rage. "Call everyone! Conference room! Now! Immediately!" Ten minutes later, the entire department sat in the conference room, looking confused. The air was heavy; everyone sensed the storm coming. I walked in last and found a seat in the corner. David stood at the head of the table with a dark face, pacing like an enraged bull. He opened with a thunderous accusation. "I called everyone here today to announce something, and to let everyone see someone's true colors!" His gaze was like a knife, shooting straight at me. "Jane, from our department. An old employee the company spent seven years cultivating." "Just now, for a meager salary increase, decided to betray the company and jump ship to our competitor!" Gasps filled the room. Everyone's eyes focused on me, filled with shock and confusion. "That's one thing. Everyone has their own aspirations, and I, David Wallace, won't force anyone to stay!" He got more agitated as he spoke, his voice getting louder. "But what is she doing? She wants to take the company's biggest order and most important client resources with her!" "What kind of behavior is this? This is naked betrayal! Ingratitude! Commercial theft!" He pounded the table, heartbroken, painting himself as a benevolent victim stabbed in the back by his most trusted subordinate. "Did I treat her badly? Which project did the company shortchange her on?" "Relying on a bit of performance, she became self-righteous, arrogant, with zero team spirit!" "The company isn't hers alone; it belongs to everyone!" "By doing this, she wants to destroy our entire department and smash everyone's rice bowl!" His speech was impassioned and inflammatory. Colleagues' expressions shifted from shock to doubt, then from doubt to condemnation. Just then, Tiffany, who had been sitting in the crowd, stood up with red eyes, timing it perfectly.
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