The steward saw their state and smirked. How could he not know how to deal with these scoundrels?
If he had ntioned layoffs first and then wage reductions, many probably wouldn't have accepted it. Then, those who stayed would have continued to cause trouble.
But by ntioning a wage reduction first to lower their psychological expectations, and then bringing up layoffs, he could use the limited number of positions to pressure them and push their limits.
They would worry about whether others might yield, trapping everyone in a chain of suspicion. Even the slightest bit of resolve they had would be completely drained.
People are followers; once the first one gives in, the situation naturally unravels. They'll all scramble to secure the remaining spots to save their jobs.
Unite? What a joke. It's already a good thing they haven't started fighting among themselves.
The steward's smug expression contrasted sharply with the workers' frantic and helpless looks.
Just a bunch of worthless rabble. How dare they try to embarrass in front of the Boss?
I can't control my superiors, but surely I can handle you lot?
"You're one," the steward said, pointing at a man who had been the first to shout earlier.
Seeing that man imdiately step away from the crowd to stand beside the steward, his face lit up with a joy akin to winning a lottery.
This situation further agitated the others, but staying on was not a simple matter of words.
The higher-ups have their ways of getting their fill, and naturally, those below have theirs too.
Otherwise, why would he have sched so hard to beco a steward?
Now that the numbers were set, not many needed to be retained. As for who stayed, wasn't that his decision to make?
Naturally, those who wanted to stay had no choice but to bribe the steward with a portion of the wages they had just received. And he wouldn't be pleased if the amount was too small.
But damn it, they're actually fighting over this? How pathetic!
But not everyone could squeeze out money for a bribe. For so of these n, the money in their hands was the last hope for their families.
"Sir, I've been working here for over twenty years..."
He pleaded desperately with the steward, hoping to be allowed to stay on account of his many years of dedicated service.
But in return, he received a mocking look from the steward, who cut him off with a shout before he could finish. "Get lost!"
The steward recognized this fellow. He was the first to speak up earlier; such troublemakers are unacceptable.
Not to ntion he didn't even want to offer any money. No money? What crap are you spewing? This kind definitely needs to be kicked out.
In the discussions with Gene or the other high-level executives, the consensus was to retain the capable ones and kick out those whose performance was subpar.
Yet, under the steward's manipulation, the criterion for staying wasn't capability, but whether or not one could offer money.
Capability was no longer the deciding factor. To the steward, it didn't matter who did the job; making sure he himself was well-fed was what mattered most.
This is how power is wielded. Otherwise, why would I kowtow to Gene, a man barely older than my own son?
Then, a large number of people were eliminated. Most of the workers, who had just been cheering for receiving their back pay, now looked distressed. They were laid off imdiately after receiving wages so ager they would barely cover food for a few days.
This group of people lingered at the encampnt, refusing to leave. So among them broke down, weeping and pleading to be allowed to stay.
But what was even more chilling than their miserable plight was that so among them began to attack those who had just spoken out for their rights, blaming them for their own job losses.
In contrast, those who had bribed the steward to stay appeared elated, as if they had snatched so treasure. They looked at those who couldn't stay with an unmistakable air of superiority.
No amount of crying or begging softened the steward's heart in the slightest. In fact, fearing he might disturb the Boss again, he shouted, raising his hand to summon guards, "Get them all out of here!"
At this command, the crowd that had just stood together rapidly split into two factions. So, in an attempt to curry favor with the steward, began to beat and curse their forr comrades, driving them out.
The man tried to struggle, but the steward saw it as provocation. "He dares to make trouble here? Beat him for !"
With a wave of his hand, several eager lackeys rushed forward and brutally beat the man.
Then, he was struck by a sudden punch and fell to the ground. A flurry of blows from the attackers that seed to appear out of nowhere quickly dazed him.
His lingering consciousness made him desperately cling to the little money he had. He cradled the purse to his chest, not even bothering to protect his head.
It was the last hope for his family of six; he couldn't let go...
"Next ti I catch you setting foot in here, I'll break both your legs!"
He felt a mont of weightlessness, only realizing he had been thrown out when he slamd hard onto the ground.
He lay on the ground for a long while before slowly getting up, his body covered in bruises and cuts, looking utterly wretched.
Looking back at the entrance of the Gene Comrcial Group, surrounded by the stares of the crowd, was particularly heart-wrenching.
I started as a handyman for the Gene Comrcial Group when I was thirteen. Later, I drove for the convoy for ten years without a single mistake. Today, I was just asking for my rightful wages... why did it turn out like this?
What I understand even less is why those workers, who were standing with just monts ago, would treat this way.
What other choice did I have? None. He could only stagger away, dragging his bruised and battered body...
It was a clear case of killing the chicken to warn the monkeys. When the previous scene unfolded, the remaining workers understood that nothing good would co from staying any longer. Afraid of being beaten, they could only lower their heads and leave.
Witnessing this, the steward's face was filled with a triumphant expression, as if he were a victorious general.
And the workers who remained crowded around the steward, their faces full of pride, like a general's most loyal soldiers.
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