They Wanted Weekends Off. They Got a Pig Farm.

Tessa's POV: I knew Frank Mercer was a skinflint from the day I joined his company. He interviewed me on a Wednesday and expected me to start that afternoon, but dated my employment contract for the following Monday. Before I could ask why, he shoved two copies of the agreement into my hands. "Read these. If everything looks good, you can sign this afternoon." Then he gave me a bread roll that had expired 6 months earlier. "That's lunch from the company. Make do with it." He frowned and added, "Since you're not officially an employee yet, I'll deduct its cost from your first paycheck." So when Frank announced in the work chat that we were getting every weekend off, I didn't believe him. "Tessa, can you believe the Scrooge is giving something away?" Ellie Price, the coworker beside me, looked delighted. When I kept studying the message, she nudged me. "He's going to issue new contracts. No more alternating 5-day and 6-day weeks. Why aren't you excited?" Natalie Brooks cut in. "Tessa, are you planning to outwork the rest of us so he'll make us come in on weekends again?" Other coworkers gathered around. "If you don't sign, you'll spoil this for everyone. Don't hold us back." "I just want to understand some unclear terms in the new contract," I said. "I read it," Natalie interrupted. "It's standard. Admit it: you want us to beg you." Before I could point to the clauses that bothered me, the work chat chimed. Frank: @everyone We're adopting a 5-day workweek under the new labor guidance. Once all employees agree, we'll issue individual replacement contracts. Please vote in this chat by the end of today. Frank: @everyone If even one person declines, the alternating weekend schedule will stay in place. The chat filled with replies. I put my phone away. Natalie rounded on me. "Did you hear him? You're going to cost us our weekends because you can't make up your mind!" "We've all worked here long enough to trust Frank," someone said. "Don't act like a few law classes make you smarter than us. Natalie's trained in law, too, and she says it's fine." With 30 minutes left in the workday, I was still reading the contract on my phone. Natalie snatched it, posted my consent in the chat, and shoved it back into my hands. I immediately sent this message: Tessa: The agreement posted from my account was not sent by me and does not reflect my consent. Natalie stomped her heel against the floor, glared, and stalked away with a file. "Some people wouldn't recognize a good thing if it hit them in the face."