The Crossroads (2)
I find myself thinking back to when I first joined a company.
Was it over a decade ago that I held my first paycheck, overcome with emotion?
Back then, the simple fact that I could buy what I wanted and eat what I pleased was enough to move me to tears.
Now, my liberated slaves—no, my workers—will soon be able to feel a similar sentiment.
They might be feeling restless with the anticipation of a new life, but the one with the real headache was actually me.
The time had finally come for Seuret Cotton, which had been happily running its beta test, to officially open its doors.
I had reviewed everything multiple times, but I still needed to verify if the final wage structure was appropriate and prepare the procedures for salary negotiations with the executive staff.
Stopping the assassination plot against Abraham Lincoln was important, but I had already entrusted that to the experts. I had to handle the most urgent matters first.
"Let's see... the average wage for an unskilled daily laborer in the North is about 1.03 dollars..."
Is this enough?
No, it’s not just enough—anyone could see it’s a generous level, right?
On top of this, I’m providing meals and housing at a low cost.
Just as I was nodding in satisfaction, thinking this was sufficient, a sound came from the door.
Knock, knock.
A cautious sound.
"Chairman, Tom says he has something to tell you. For your information, this is Tom from the security team, not the cotton fields."
"Tell him to come in."
If he’s visiting at this hour, I can roughly guess what it’s about.
Soon, the door opened, and a familiar face poked his head in.
"...Chairman, do you have a moment?"
As expected, his voice was trembling, whether out of anxiety or guilt.
There was absolutely no need for him to feel sorry.
"Yeah, come on in."
Tom entered cautiously, clutching his hat in his hands. He was likely one of the guys who had been dragged from the North, imprisoned in the rehabilitation center, and then followed me to the farm.
"What’s the matter?"
"Well..."
He hesitated for a long time, took a few deep breaths, and finally opened his mouth.
"I... I want to go back to the North."
Just as I thought. Even if life here was physically more comfortable than in the North, his roots were still up there. It was a choice I could fully understand.
"I see. Understood."
"I’m sorry. I couldn’t raise my hand in the square..."
"No, that’s understandable. It would have been weirder to raise your hand in that atmosphere."
With over a thousand of my followers there, how could he have stepped forward to say he wanted to leave?
"I’m really... I’m so sorry. You treated me so well, and yet I..."
"What reason is there to be sorry? You were dragged here from the North, weren't you?"
What’s strange about someone who originally lived in the North wanting to return there?
"But Nick is trying to persuade all his family and acquaintances to come here..."
"That’s because he’s the abnormal one. You’re the normal one. Your family is all still in the North, right?"
"Yes. My mother and younger sister were lucky enough not to be caught."
"Then what are you hesitating for? Go quickly and take care of them."
If he wanted, he could bring his family over like Nick, but this was an area I could never force upon anyone.
Tom’s eyes turned red.
"But... I’ve received so much here. If it weren't for you, Chairman, I would have long since..."
"Ah, I told you not to say things like that. If anything, you’re the one who did the hard work. You were dragged all the way to the South—you’ve suffered enough. You’re going home now, so there’s no need to be sorry or grateful. Got it?"
"Chairman..."
In the end, Tom’s shoulders trembled, and tears streamed down his face.
"Thank you... thank you so much."
Ah, this is exactly why I told him not to be sorry—now he’s crying and the atmosphere has turned strange.
I called over Leo, who was standing silently in the back.
"Add a bit more to his travel expenses to the North. He shouldn't go hungry while looking for a job."
"Yes, sir. Understood."
"No, you can’t! That’s too shameless..."
"Just take it."
Leo, quick on the uptake, forced the cloth bundle filled with dollars into Tom’s hands.
"Life in the North might be tougher than it was here, but I hope you live it with strength."
"...Yes."
"Don't cry. Keep your head up and always be confident."
The trash who practice racial discrimination are typically bullies who only pick on those who look easy.
"If there are any bastards discriminating against you, just smack them. Contact me, and I’ll pay the settlement money, so don’t be afraid."
Leo chuckled, and Tom bowed his head, sobbing.
Even if they leave this place, I will never, ever stand by and watch my people get bullied anywhere.
Of course, I trust they will handle things wisely before I even have to step in.
Because you are the warriors I raised, who have won your own freedom.
Even after that day, one by one, two by two.
People continued to knock on my door cautiously.
"Chairman... I want to go to the North, too..."
"I originally lived in Maryland..."
Naturally, like Tom, they were all people who had been dragged from the North.
People who missed their families.
People who missed their hometowns.
People who wanted to restart their lives in the North.
I told them all the same thing.
Live with confidence, and know that you can always return.
"Thank you so much, Chairman."
After seeing them off one by one, the wage calculation sheet on my desk caught my eye.
The people who wanted to leave have left, so I must take care of those who remain.
I sat back down and picked up my pen.
Exactly two days later, the scheduled executive salary negotiations grandly opened.
"Now, as you’ve heard before, you are not ordinary employees. You are the first Black executives of Seuret Cotton, so you need to have the status that corresponds to that."
"Chairman, I’m white."
"Read the room. You’re the exception."
The faces gathered in the conference room were people already holding heavy responsibilities on the farm, doing their best in their respective positions.
Leo, Ben, Henry, Will, and even Jonathan—though he wasn't Black.
Everyone sat there with equally puzzled expressions.
Considering the era, the very concept of "salary negotiation" might be unfamiliar, but it had to be done.
They weren't just anyone; they were my right and left hands. I couldn't allow my confidants to be treated poorly anywhere.
"I have a proposal I’ve already calculated, but I want to hear your opinions first. Let’s start with Leo."
"Chairman, that is... how exactly does a salary negotiation work?"
"Hmm, simply put, you tell me the amount you want, and I review it to decide the final figure."
"Ah... then this will end quickly. I have an amount I’ve calculated myself."
Hmm, as expected of my right-hand man, Leo. If he doesn't know ten things when he learns one, at least he understands that one thing clearly.
He is certainly enough to be my Chief of Staff...
"I heard Northern laborers receive about 1 dollar a day. So, wouldn't 1.5 dollars be enough for me?"
"...What?"
...He is not.
What? The man responsible for the Chairman’s office wants 1.5 times the average of a common laborer?
"Yes. 1.5 dollars. Don't you think I deserve at least that much?"
"Oh, you idiot."
I rubbed my forehead and let out a sigh.
"You are an executive! An executive! You’re the person who is supposed to be my eyes and ears!"
"B-but, 1.5 dollars is still 50% more than a Northern laborer, isn't it?"
"No, that’s not it... Ha, I’m going crazy."
Maybe the guys who do physical labor are a bit different.
As I turned my gaze, Ben quickly stood up from his seat.
"I thought similarly to Leo. For me, about 1.3 dollars..."
"Yes, next is Leo Mark 2."
It’s miserable, truly miserable.
What the hell is this? An absurd negotiation where the employer is trying to raise the salary, but the employees are struggling to cut it.
My instinct, having worked as an ace in the HR department in my past life, whispered that this was a sweet deal and to sign the contract immediately. But James Seuret, who had decided to take responsibility for their lives, couldn't suppress the urge to give them some advice.
"Alright, I’ll explain it step by step so you can understand."
The executives of Seuret Cotton must become the objects of envy and admiration for all Black people.
If not, it’s actually me who will be in trouble.
"First, Leo, starting with you. What Northern laborers do is just simple labor. But you manage the entire company. The weight of responsibility is different. Do you really think getting a measly 50 cents more a day makes sense?"
"Uh... hmm, I suppose that’s true."
"You have to calculate an appropriate salary by comprehensively considering your position, the importance of your work, and the company’s revenue and profits. Of course, if I set it too high from the start, there might be gossip..."
I unfolded the salary table I had calculated in advance and showed it clearly to this smart-but-foolish man.
"The daily wage I’ve set is about 3.85 dollars."
"...Excuse me?"
"On top of this, you should also receive performance bonuses equal to your annual salary. That’s how you can be called the real power who assists the Chairman right by his side, isn't it?"
"Still, it’s too much..."
"It’s not too much at all! I’m telling you, this is what you need to receive!"
If anything, their salaries were a bit cut just because they were Black. Considering the massive revenue Seuret Cotton will generate starting next year, even that is too low.
"Leo. You will become a symbol of the life enjoyed by a Black man who rises to the highest position in Seuret Cotton. In a few years, you should be enjoying a life far more luxurious than this. Not for you, but for all the others who will dream while watching you."
"......"
"So, take what you’re given. Understand?"
Realizing that this wasn't just for himself, Leo finally nodded obediently.
"I understand. Thank you for the enlightenment, Chairman."
"Good. Next, Ben."
Whether it was because the previous sermon was effective, Ben listened to me with a sharp, disciplined posture.
"You are the head of security. You are in a position responsible for the company’s safety."
"Yes."
"Then, this year, I’ll give you an annual salary of 1,000 dollars plus quarterly performance bonuses."
"Th-that... no, that’s not right."
"The performance bonus will be measured by accident and theft rate indicators, so keep that in mind. Next is Henry."
"Yes! I will follow the standards you set, Chairman!"
"You are the tactical team leader, so 900 dollars a year, plus a 15% danger allowance when you go on actual missions."
"D-danger allowance?"
"Of course. You’re risking your life every time you’re deployed to the field. You should receive compensation for that danger in money, too."
As I continued to hand out appropriate salaries to Will and Jonathan, everyone had their mouths wide open, staring at the money they would be receiving.
Since this is the first year the company is starting to run in earnest, I deliberately set it low, but if they are reacting like this, they might actually faint next year.
But they have to get used to it.
As I said before, they must become the representatives of 'successful Black people' who have risen under me.
They must become beings envied not only by the South but by all Black people in the North—no, by all races that are not white.
No matter how much astronomical money I, a white man, earn or wield, I can never give that feeling.
It must be done by Leo, Ben, and Henry, who are former slaves and Black.
The more they succeed, the more luxurious lives they enjoy, the more Seuret Cotton will become the dream and hope of all people of color.
Perhaps understanding this grand plan of mine, no one raised any objections, and the room fell into a brief silence.
Then now...
"...Chairman."
"Why? Are you asking for a raise?"
"Still, if you include the performance bonus, 2,000 dollars a year seems like too much. Even if you lower it to about 1,500 dollars..."
"Leo."
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
"Yes, sir."
Good, plan change.
There will be no more salary negotiations for the time being.
Executive or not, I’ll spoon-feed them the optimal amount, so they should just keep their mouths shut and eat it.