Will Work for Money.

Since entering the workforce at 16, I've become increasingly aware of certain aspects of corporate accounting departments and the people between them and employees.  I'd like to talk about that today.  Stick through the complaints; there's a point at the end.

I got hired at an Atlanta suburb branch of a major video rental chain in 1999.  I filed my paperwork, got my uniform and exhibited an almost preternatural ability for alphabetizing VHS's and DVD's.  Three weeks into my job, I asked where my paycheck was.

"Oh, I don't know.  I'll ask accounting."

Two weeks after that, I asked where my paycheck was.

"Oh, I don't know.  I'll ask accounting."

A week after that, I asked where my paycheck was for the third time.

"I forgot to tell you, accounting says we can't pay you until we have a scan of your driver's license."

In Georgia, any underage driver was automatically added as a driver to his or her parents' car insurance.  For white males under 25, that came at the average sum of $250 a month and in the 1990s, working part-time after school for $6 an hour would rapidly devolve into me working just to afford car insurance, so I hadn't bothered to take my driver's test.  After haggling with corporate on the phone, I talked them down to accepting a state-issued photo ID.  I told my boss this, and he decided it was a good enough reason to close the store down in the middle of the day and buy me lunch at a fast food place, talk about being in a gang when he was younger and then hang out with me in the DMV, all of which while we both stayed on the clock.

I've never looked happier in a photo.  It's a bigger grin than I'm wearing in my wedding pictures.

My first paycheck from the video rental store came in seven weeks after I started, which was about a week after we went to the DMV.

At 24 I scored my first management position at a Richmond-based location of a prominent video game retailer.  I filed my paperwork and my boss gave me an off-brand debit card.

"When you get paid, it'll just go on here," he said.  "Call this number to activate it, they'll give you a PIN number and you can just go to ATMs and withdraw cash.  If you really need to have your money go into a bank account for some reason, you can set up direct deposit after your first two pay cycles."

Immediately my mind jumped to ATM fees.  I thought about the almost-complete lack of places that would accept payment from a card that wasn't sponsored by a major brand.  I wondered how, since ATMs only allow for withdrawals of money in $10 to $20 increments, I'd ever get access to the remaining money in my account.  "If my check is for $438.17, how do I get that $8.17?" I asked, staring at the spinach green debit card.

"Oh, I don't know.  I'll ask accounting."

Further concern mounted when the card itself had a zero balance after my first two weeks of work.

Even further concern mounted when the card itself had a zero balance after my first three weeks of work.

I asked my store manager and my district manager once per week about being paid for the job.

"Oh, I don't know.  I'll ask accounting." 

In the middle of working my sixth week without pay, I put them both on a conference call and gave them an ultimatum for which I was never forgiven.

This particular company required a manager to be in the store at all times.  I and my store manager were the only managers working there at the time due to his penchant for throwing things and threatening to hit his staff - and HR's refusal to take action against it.  We all knew, though none of us mentioned, that if I quit, he would have to work double shifts seven days a week until they found a replacement for me.  The overtime alone would cost the company a fortune if he didn't just have a nervous breakdown and shutter the doors, leading to fines from the mall and immeasurable loss of business.

"I'm not working for free anymore," I said.  "I've found and filled out the direct deposit forms for my personal checking account and since it's technically been two pay cycles since I started, I'm faxing them in to accounting today.  If my five weeks of back pay aren't in my personal checking account by the end of the week, I'm leaving my keys on the counter after I close Sunday and not coming back."

I faxed the paperwork in 30 seconds after we hung up and every penny I was owed was deposited that afternoon.

In 2012, six years after graduating with my BA in journalism and fast on the heels of turning 30, I scored my first freelance gig writing for one of the biggest video game journalism websites in the country.  I sold them my first article for $100 and a check was sent to me a few weeks later.  I sold them my second article around the time I got my first check and delivered the copy and my invoice (this time for $200) 12 hours after accepting the assignment.

Three weeks after submitting my invoice, I followed up with my point of contact - my editor - regarding my paycheck, which in the grand scheme of things is not a large amount of money.

"Oh, I don't know.  I'll ask accounting."

Another week passed and I followed up again.  I didn't hear back so I followed up a third time and he didn't write me back again.  This time I decided to employ a different tactic than the video rental store and the video game retailer.

After the first month passed with no pay, I went to the video game website's corporate page and found out who my editor's direct superior was and emailed them describing the situation.  I was assured that he would ask accounting, but when I didn't hear from my editor's superior after three days, I wrote him again to follow up.  Again, I got no reply.  A week after contacting my editor's superior, I revisited the corporate website and found his superior's name and email address.  I emailed this new contact describing the situation and I was assured that they would ask accounting.  Three days after this, I wrote back again and asked for more information.

It became a pattern.  I emailed someone on Monday explaining my lack of pay and was assured almost immediately that the accounting department would be made aware of my situation.  Later in the week, having not heard back, I wrote again.  The following Monday I escalated the situation to the previous contact's superior.

It took three months and over 40 emails before I reached the CEO.  With no higher person to complain to, I explained to him the situation and forwarded him the names and email addresses of every person I'd spoken with since submitting my article and the invoice for it.  I also forwarded to him every chain of emails I had sent since that time.

My paycheck was overnighted to me from across the country the next day.  I burned every bridge I had at that company, including work references for future employment at other places, because higher-up employees than myself and the accounting department couldn't be bothered to write me a check for $200.  If you averaged it out, I earned that check at about $15 per week.

Now, first off, consider this.  These three are just the examples I've chosen to write about.  I have a half-dozen other examples from a half-dozen other jobs from my younger days, all exhibiting nearly identical patterns.  Smoothie shops, coffee shops, other retailers, restaurants - you name it, I've been told accounting would be contacted.  It's also happened on the other end, when I've commissioned people for work and only had it delivered after escalating my complaints to the point of publicly embarrassing them.

Second, by the time I invoiced my second article for the gaming website, I'd noticed a common thread through all these experiences.  In all of them, my initial complaining and moaning was brushed off.  It took last resorts of either threatening, embarrassing, or accusing companies of illegalities in order for them to pay an employee for work he had already performed and for which he was already owed compensation.  And when said employee finally raised enough of a stink to talk himself out of a job or future jobs with the company and get the payment process moving, they were fully capable of processing and delivering that payment within a 36-hour period.  Not six weeks, not three and a half months, but in a little over one working day.

Third, and most importantly, I'm no anomaly.  This happens to people all the time.  Forget about me, now; I'm only vouching for the truth of this story because I lived it.  The bigger concern is that it's happening right now, likely to someone you know, who said they can't go out to the bar this Friday because they just want to stay in but in reality has $3 in their bank account - not due to fiscal irresponsibility, but because someone never checked with accounting.  Or because accounting hasn't bothered to print that check.  And often they haven't bothered printing the check because they know if you're willing to chase a $200 check for three months you can't afford to take a multimillion-dollar business to court.

Finally, when you're 16 and living with your parents, going a few weeks without a part-timer's paycheck is not the end of the world.  When you're a parent in your 30s with a car payment, rent due, insurance bills, an empty fridge, an emptier medicine cabinet and work functions to attend, it's a very, very different situation.  With a full adult set of responsibilities, a paycheck that arrives late by even one week can result in hundreds of dollars in late fees and penalties accrued by unsympathetic banks, credit card companies, doctors, car dealerships and apartment complexes.

I don't believe there's a grand conspiracy between employers who withhold paychecks and companies who charge late fees for recurring payments not made on time.  But they certainly do seem to perpetuate predatory business practices like payday lenders and line the pockets of credit card companies.

Check up on your friends, pay your employees and deliver for clients in a timely fashion.  Life's hard enough as it is; we should be making one another's days better, not worse.