“We’re not just a company, we’re a family.” It’s a phrase many of us have heard from a boss, usually right before they ask for something unreasonable, like working a weekend for free or accepting a “pizza party” in lieu of a raise. It’s a corporate platitude meant to inspire loyalty, but it often feels like a manipulative guilt trip. One reader, after hearing this line one too many times from his hypocritical boss, decided to take his membership in the “work family” to its logical and hilarious conclusion.
My boss, Mr. Sterling, loves to talk about how our company is a “family.” He says it during interviews, at company meetings, and in all-staff emails. He uses it to justify long hours and mediocre pay, framing any complaint as a betrayal of this sacred family bond. At our last all-hands meeting, after he announced a bonus freeze, he made the mistake of saying it again. This time, I had a question.
The ‘Family’ Business
The “we’re a family” culture at my job is a one-way street. We’re expected to have the loyalty of a family, showing up early, staying late, and sacrificing our personal lives for the good of the company. But we don’t get the benefits of a family. Our health insurance is mediocre, paid overtime is non-existent, and our salaries are below the industry average.
The hypocrisy reached its peak last month. In a big company meeting, Mr. Sterling announced that due to a “tough quarter,” all annual bonuses were cancelled and there would be a company-wide freeze on raises. He talked a lot about “shared sacrifice.” Two days later, a photo of his brand-new 40-foot yacht, christened “The Sterling Silver,” appeared on his wife’s Instagram.
The mood in the office was grim. So, Mr. Sterling called another all-hands meeting to “boost morale.”
A Question From the Floor
He stood at the front of the conference room, giving a big, passionate speech about how we’d all get through this together. He talked about loyalty, dedication, and how much he valued each and every one of us. He ended with his grand finale, his voice thick with fake emotion: “I know it’s hard, but we’ll weather this storm. Because we’re more than just a company. We are a FAMILY!”
He beamed at us, clearly expecting a round of applause. Instead, he was met with dead silence. To break the awkwardness, he said, “Any questions?”
Usually, no one ever asks anything. But this time, after years of biting my tongue, I slowly raised my hand. Mr. Sterling looked surprised, but he pointed at me. “Yes, Alex. Go ahead.”
So, About the Will…
I stood up. I made sure my voice was steady, polite, and completely serious. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling,” I began. “And thank you for that very moving speech. Your point about us being a family really resonates, especially in these times of shared sacrifice.”
I let that hang in the air for a second. “And it got me thinking. Since we are, as you say, a family, and you are the patriarch of this family, I was wondering if you’ve done any estate planning?”
A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Mr. Sterling’s smile faltered. I continued.
“Specifically, I was curious if you have included your loyal employees, your ‘children,’ in your will? I think I speak for everyone when I say that we would feel much more secure about forgoing our bonuses this year if we knew we had a small slice of the inheritance to look forward to down the road. It would really go a long way in solidifying this family bond you cherish so much.”
The room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning humming. I saw two of the junior designers physically shaking with the effort of not laughing. Mr. Sterling’s face went from confused, to pale, to a shade of deep, volcanic purple. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sounds came out. Finally, he just mumbled, “Meeting adjourned,” and practically ran off the stage.
The story of me asking about my inheritance spread through the company in about seven minutes. I’m a hero in the trenches. And Mr. Sterling has, miraculously, never used the F-word (family) again. I wasn’t fired, probably because he knew how bad it would look. But my old-school dad said I was insubordinate and lucky to still have a job. I think I just held a mirror up to my boss’s manipulative hypocrisy. AITA for asking to be included in the will?
In the corporate world, some phrases are so full of hot air they’re practically begging to be popped. “We’re a family” is chief among them. The narrator didn’t just pop the balloon; he did it with a polite, well-aimed, and surgically sharp pin. His question was a masterpiece of malicious compliance, using the boss’s own manipulative language to expose its complete absurdity. It was a risky, career-on-the-line move, but it resulted in a legendary victory against toxic corporate culture.
What do you think, readers? Was this a brilliant and courageous act of calling out hypocrisy, or a deeply disrespectful and career-suicidal stunt? Let us know!
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