Is The Dilbert Principle Book Based On Real Corporate Experiences?

Three days into the silent treatment, Derrick—my fiancé and CEO—greenlit his assistant's pitch for a self-driving road trip. He expected me to flip, like always. I didn't. A month later, he came back and saw it—I wasn't the same. He backed Molly, stole my project, and thought I'd explode. I didn't. I just helped her draft the proposal. He trashed everything I built, just so she could snag her year-end bonus. I didn't fight back. Took the blame, took the hit. Molly was all smug. "See? Told you. You can't go at Yara head-on. Give her the silent treatment—she folds. She's scared of losing you. That's why she's playing nice." Derrick ate it up. Called her smart. Then he pulled me aside—offered a raise, a promotion, even a fancy wedding. First time he'd ever brought it up. But he missed one detail: he'd already signed off on my resignation while he was off playing road trip king. And I'd already dumped him. That was it. Clean cut. Nothing left.

At the company's annual gala, the CEO announced that this year's top sales performer would receive a two-million-dollar year-end bonus. I was the top performer. However, my manager called me into his office the very next day and explained that the company was cutting costs and improving efficiency. As a result, my bonus had to be reduced. I initially assumed everyone's bonus was being cut. Then, I found out I was the only one getting shortchanged. Even worse, they handed my position to a useless coworker who could barely do the job. I understood everything immediately. 'So this is how it is. You're tossing me aside after you got what you wanted from me.' Fine. I stopped putting in any effort from that day forward. I clocked in, did the bare minimum, and watched the company slowly fall apart. Sales began to drop month after month. Even the major clients I had already secured began withdrawing their investments. That was when the CEO finally panicked. He showed up at my front door, begging me to fix things. I kicked the door open and looked down at him. "You think a garbage company like yours deserves my help?"

At the company's celebration dinner, the new HR guy slapped a bill on the table—$860 for A/C and venue costs from our last all-nighter. I shot a look at Sherry—my girlfriend, my boss—thinking she'd have my back. Nope. She latched onto HR's arm and said, "Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading." And just like that, nine years of busting my ass for this company, and turns out—I was the discount item on the menu.

A contract is desperately needed for the company to close the deal on a project, so I head over to the administrative department to lodge a request for printing paper. However, the administrative employee, Lydia Reed, slaps on an arrogant expression. "In order to prevent bottom feeders like you from taking advantage of the company by stealing the company's resources, the company's rulebook has already stated that you must bring your own paper to work!" I just point at the pile of boxes containing A4 paper behind Lydia before asking coldly, "Then who are those resources meant for?" Lydia rolls her eyes at me. "Well, they are meant for people who truly are worthy of this company's resources, duh! "You're just a meager project manager who keeps asking for money without making any contributions at all, so you can forget about getting your hands on anything that belongs to the company!" I nod in return. After leaving the department, I dial a number. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cross. It seems that we shall not be participating in the 200-million-dollar bid after all."

Even though it's the New Year holidays, I'm still cooped up in the company while churning out the paperwork needed for the company's listing process. That's when my keyboard suddenly types a paragraph on its own. "Stop working already! Your boss is about to fire you, and yet you're still slaving away for his sake!" I'm stunned by the information I see. The keyboard goes on typing, "He said you only have a bachelor's degree. If not for the fact that you're a walking lucky charm, you wouldn't have gotten into this company in the first place! "Now that the company is in the process of getting listed, it's costing far too much just to keep you around! Even though you're being paid a high salary every month, you can't even provide the company with any value! "He intends to dismiss you the moment the company gets listed! Since it's the new year, new blood should be joining the company!" I've been holding my coffee mug the whole time. At that moment, I can feel my hands starting to tremble. For five years, the projects that I've manned never got into any problems. The final round of funding always came through. Even when we were choosing a new office, we came across the situation of an owner who was all-too happy to get rid of the building. I can say with great confidence that I'm 90% of the main reason how this company expanded from a tiny office to the entire building. To think that I'm the first person to be discarded right after my boss reaches his goal… I can feel my stomach twisting uneasily. Even my throat goes tight from the anxiety. Just as I'm about to leave, a few angry voices ring out in the office. "I'm an office chair! I'll break during the board meeting tomorrow and make sure that your boss falls right on his ass!" "I'm a printer! I'll make sure to print all the documents he wants with nothing but gibberish on them!" "I'm a coffee machine! Tomorrow, I'll whip him a special brew that ensures he will never get to leave the toilet bowl for the rest of the day!"

The company had been losing money for two consecutive years. That year, with our biggest client suddenly going out of business, we lost nearly ten million dollars in receivables. On New Year's Eve, I sent out a company-wide apology email after much deliberation. The email stated, "At this moment, I regret to inform that we can only increase each employee's monthly salary by 20 dollars this year." An intern named Ingrid Little took a screenshot of the email and posted it online. In no time, her post started trending. The entire internet criticized me for being fake and pretending to be poor. They said that my shameless act was a blatant insult to my employees' hard work. "20 dollars doesn't even cover commuting!" "Why hasn't this garbage company gone under yet?" Ingrid replied to each comment with the same line: "I don't care about the money. I just feel insulted. I'm quitting tomorrow." The next day, I walked into the office with bloodshot eyes and turned on the company-wide broadcast. I announced, "Since some people believe I've insulted their dignity, you may submit your resignation immediately. However, you will no longer be entitled to the year-end bonus of 20 thousand dollars." Everyone gasped in disbelief. Ingrid turned completely pale, and some workers even rushed into my office impulsively. "Boss, this has nothing to do with me! I stand with the company!" After all, my company had increased salaries for 37 consecutive years and given an average raise of over 2,000 dollars each time. They wouldn't find a company like mine elsewhere.