Nobody Messes with the Code Master

The next morning, I dragged my heavy steps toward Jason's office.

A year ago, I had joined this project full of passion, believing technology could change the world.

Now, I was here to teach a trust-fund baby—who couldn't even get Hello World to run—how to pretend he understood technology.

Jason's office was larger than the entire workspace of our outsourced team. On the wall hung the certificate for the Technology Innovation Award he had just received.

"You're here, Rex," Jason said without lifting his head, his fingers pounding randomly on the keyboard.

I swallowed my anger, opened my laptop, and prepared to explain the code.

"Oh, right," he added casually. "Oliver told me they'll give you some extra compensation."

I looked up, a flicker of hope rising in my chest. "How much?"

Jason finally raised his head, a mocking smile on his face. "That depends on my mood. Anyway, you outsourced guys only work for money, right?"

Under the desk, my fists clenched and loosened again.

"Jason, I spent a full year on this project. I hardly had a single day off."

He cut me off. "Save it. Outsourced workers are supposed to work harder, aren't they? My uncle said it himself—you people are just disposable toilet paper for the company. You can be flushed away anytime."

Outside the office door, several colleagues from the tech department passed by, casting sympathetic glances at me.

At lunchtime, Oliver Muller from the outsourcing group quietly sat down beside me.

"Rex, everyone knows that project was your work. This is so unfair."

I gave a bitter smile. "Fair? Around here, your last name matters far more than your ability."

Oliver lowered his voice. "I heard Jason can't even understand basic code. Every demo is actually run by you behind the scenes."

I put down my fork, my appetite gone.

"The joke is, he's my 'boss' now—and I have to teach him two hours every day how to steal my own achievements more efficiently."

That afternoon, I decided to talk to Oliver again about the compensation.

His office door was open. I knocked lightly.

"Oliver, about the compensation Jason mentioned…"

Oliver gestured for me to sit and dialed Jason's number.

"Jason, have you thought about Rex's compensation?"

On the other end of the line, Jason's voice turned unusually respectful.

"Oliver, I was planning to include it in next month's performance bonus. I definitely won't shortchange him."

Oliver hung up and smiled at me.

"You heard him. It'll be paid next month. That settles it."

I was about to speak when his expression suddenly turned stern.

"Rex, the company doesn't support idle people. I hope you understand reality and stop obsessing over these small matters."

As I left the office, I ran into Jason in the hallway.

He gave me a cold look.

"Remember your place—outsourced worker."

…

A month passed. It was finally payday for performance bonuses. I opened my payslip and saw that the "extra compensation" line showed a negative number—Jason had docked five hundred dollars, citing "poor work attitude."

I stared at the slip again. The so-called extra compensation column was blank.

"Fooled again, and even stabbed in the back," I muttered with a bitter laugh. My stomach twisted as if a knife were cutting into it.

The other outsourced workers in my group looked at me with sympathy.

"Rex, don't bother. They never treated us like people in the first place."

I took a deep breath and made up my mind to fight for it one last time.