Don’t Show Your Salary to People with Lots of Problems

 Today, Daniel and I had a bit of a verbal clash. It all started with his first paycheck when he asked to see my pay stub to compare something. I let him. That was my mistake. Since he rarely brought up money, I assumed it wasn’t that important to him, so I saw nothing wrong with his request to compare our pay reports. Over time, he found more and more reasons to complain. Some were justified in my eyes, like how I also don’t get why his taxes were higher despite nearly equal amounts. I also don’t understand why my report listed two weekends, which we both worked and which pay slightly more than weekdays, while his report for the same period only showed one, even though we worked the same days. But there were moments where I clearly saw his mistakes, which he refused to admit. Like the latest incident that sparked the conflict.

It was the day before payday, in the morning. I’d just finished my morning patrol and returned to the security office. Daniel was sitting by the monitors, having finished the morning paperwork, and was looking at something on his phone. When I approached, he asked to see my upcoming pay report. The report was ready, so I could check it on a special website. I logged into my account and opened my pay details. The latest amount surprised me—even without checking the breakdown, I knew something was off. The sum was higher than usual and definitely more than I expected. When I looked at the details, I noticed the food allowance had increased a bit more than twofold (since my job is, in a way, a constant business trip, we get daily food stipends). I told Daniel, and he said it was the same for him. I was so thrilled that I tried to believe the amount had really changed and would stay that way. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t because they forgot to add the food allowance last month, so they were paying for two months now—which didn’t quite add up either, since the sum for two months would be slightly less than what they paid this time, and they weren’t supposed to pay for this month until two weeks later. I savored the thought, but my partner, for some reason, was glum and displeased. When I asked what was wrong, he said his “amount due” field showed zero. I laughed—given his constant financial issues with this company, it seemed hilarious that even with good news, he had a problem. But Daniel wasn’t laughing; he was serious and a bit offended. I tried to explain why I found it funny, but he didn’t share my mood and, with full seriousness, called me a psychopath. I said that wasn’t true, but he immediately insisted it was. I realized I didn’t remember the exact definition of “psychopath,” so I couldn’t argue with full confidence. I started looking up the meaning on Wikipedia. Noticing this, Daniel said my searching for the definition only proved his point. “Psychopathy (from Greek ψυχή ‘soul; mind; consciousness; character’ + πάθος ‘suffering; pain; illness’) is a psychopathological syndrome manifested through traits such as a lack of empathy toward others, reduced ability to feel compassion, inability to sincerely repent for harming others, deceitfulness, egocentrism, and superficial emotional reactions,” Wikipedia stated. Reading this, I was certain I wasn’t a psychopath. After that, I lost the urge to argue. I asked him to show me his report. He handed me his phone, and I started looking. His payment was almost the same as mine, but slightly less, though it should’ve been the other way around since I had only a learner’s driver’s license and earned slightly less than other guards. That seemed funny too, but I had to suppress the urge to laugh, knowing it wouldn’t lead to anything good. His final amount was indeed zero, but I also noticed a small section in his report that wasn’t in mine. That section listed his potential payment, which was then deducted. I pointed it out to him and, not knowing what it meant, suggested he write to our manager. I decided to write a letter too, but for a different reason. The anomaly in the food stipends was nagging at me. First, I got them mid-month only because the company made some mistake and didn’t pay them last month. Second, the amount was odd. If they were paying for two months at once, it still should’ve been slightly less. My sweet hopes that they’d raised the amount and just didn’t tell us, and that I’d get the same amount again in two weeks, were crushed by the thought that the contract the security company has been trying to renew with the mall for months, which my job depends on, hasn’t been signed, so there’s no reason for a raise. It could just be a mistake. If I notice and report an error when I’m underpaid, it’d be dishonest to hide one that benefits me. My conscience has become very dear to me, so without a shadow of doubt, I decided I’d write to management as soon as the money hit my account. I told Daniel, but he was surprised and called me crazy. Later, while we were near the mall stores, he started convincing me I was making a mistake and shouldn’t write about it, saying that if you get free money, you just take it. If the company messed up, that’s their problem. They can’t take it back because if they deduct it from the next payment, it could cause issues if he complains and proves it’s illegal. I, fully understanding where that path leads, only grew more certain I was doing the right thing.

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen and saw Daniel. The first thing he asked was whether my money had come through. I said yes, I’d already checked by then. He said he hadn’t gotten anything. And it was true—zero, though I didn’t fully believe it until then. I couldn’t understand why. When it actually happened, it wasn’t so funny anymore. All day, he tried to figure out the reason, and only at the end of the workday did they tell him it was because his study permit, which allows him to study, work, and legally stay in Canada, had expired. So, legally, they couldn’t transfer the money. Remembering that a month ago he’d borrowed my laptop to fill out an application to renew his permit, I reminded him, and he said the new one wasn’t ready yet. He started complaining and blaming the company, but I asked if he saw his own mistake in this. He said no. I asked, “Knowing your permit was expiring and you’d become illegal at an official job, did you tell management, explaining that you’re waiting for your new permit, which is in process?” He said no, he hadn’t told anyone. After that, he paused, thought, and said I was right—there was indeed his fault in this. That’s where we left the topic. I sent my letter that morning too. I wrote about the odd food stipend amount and spiced it up with my sincere emotions, in the form of emojis, joy, and hope that there was no mistake. That was my way of keeping the money—just being honest. At the same time, I was fully ready for them to deduct it from my next payment if it was a mistake, or even to transfer it back immediately if they asked.
The next day, nothing hinted at trouble. But I mentioned that I still hadn’t gotten a reply to my letter, which was strange. For some reason, Daniel got worked up right away. He tried again to explain that if the company made a mistake and I benefited, I shouldn’t write about it. When he saw that wouldn’t sway me, the real reason for his behavior became clear. He said it could affect him since he got the same food stipend money. I said that shouldn’t be an issue because we’re two different people, and each can handle it their own way. But he got more and more aggressive, accusing me of actions that could hurt his money. He was afraid that if it was a mistake and the company found out, they’d take the money not just from me but from him too. I told him my conscience was worth more to me than his money. That set him off—he started talking so loudly you could hear him across half the mall. He said you can’t be a person like me, that we need to help each other, that if I’m such a loner, I won’t survive in this world. For some reason, he brought up Viktor, my old, boring partner for a week, who was always trying to prove he was still young and fun. Daniel said Viktor badmouthed me behind my back. That didn’t surprise me—I expected nothing less from Viktor. But I was surprised that to prove I’m a bad person, he used the testimony of someone who talks trash about others behind their backs. After such arguments, I realized there was no point in arguing. Then he said that if he got paid less, we’d have problems. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t want to know exactly what problems awaited us. I wanted him to make his threats direct, not hint at them, but he backed off and dropped the idea. The thing was, he hadn’t gotten his money yet, and he was worried that I’d already been paid, but his amount might get taken away if it was a mistake. I understood him perfectly, but I also knew his approach in this matter led to a problematic nowhere, so I played dumb, and he wasn’t surprised. He’d already told me a few times that I’m like some kind of alien who needs everything explained, forgetting that when he answers my questions, he often reaches unexpected conclusions himself. So, in his eyes, I probably look like some weirdo, and dousing things with feigned confusion works pretty well. After that, he started lecturing me with a pained tone, trying to set me on the right path. He said we need to care for each other, listen to others, adapt to spoken and unspoken rules. I listened and decided to tell the truth. I said that two years ago, I was exactly like that and thought the same way. I said words that echoed in my head: “I don’t want to be like that anymore.” I repeated it several times. I desperately wanted to cry but barely held back tears. Goosebumps ran through me, my body felt like it was burning—not with weakness but with a fiery readiness for battle. I felt like I was radiating so much heat, which was strange since my skin is usually very cold, but at that moment, I felt like I was ablaze. I really didn’t want to be like that anymore, and those weren’t just words. I said I fully understood what he was explaining, but if I did what he said, I’d die. I must’ve said it with real sincerity because after that, he calmed down and accepted that I wouldn’t change.

A few days earlier, seeing how different our pay reports were, I’d asked Daniel not to mention that we’d compared our payments when discussing his financial issues with management. He agreed. I didn’t want to be involved, but I should’ve thought about that earlier because I became part of this story the moment I first showed him my pay stub. Realizing my mistake, I told him I was retracting my request not to involve me. If he wanted to use data from my report to support his claims to management, he could. I acknowledge my mistake and am ready for any consequences, even getting fired.