Wes Rethath, Jr., Chief Executive Officer and Executive Director, Tasty Tots Incorporated, a nonprofit geared toward feeding hungry families in Kansas, made this statement during a mandatory employee meeting.  

I made a mistake sitting closer to the back of the venue instead of putting myself in the middle. The agenda for today’s meeting was undisclosed, except for those on the leadership team. That tracked, at least for me. As far as I was concerned, human resources, my immediate supervisor, and the rest of the organization didn’t care enough to ask me how I felt about what they did, how they treated their staff, or anything else resembling something valuable to me. This was what they decided to call Employee Appreciation Day. Did they manage to tell anyone this was the reason for the meeting? Or did they keep it quiet? Hush hush, except to those people who were important – which was everyone on the leadership team. Besides the executive leadership team, including the CEO, did anyone else know that we, the employees of Tasty Tots Inc., would be celebrated?

For four hours, we, the so-called ‘celebrated’ employees of Tasty Tots Inc., sat and listened to the company’s newest direction, the latest addition to their expanding factory complex, and the new ways to celebrate the current people working for Tasty Tots Inc. by giving them a tiny keychain with a washer, hand-stamped by some kid in China with the number of years each ‘celebrated’ employee worked for their meager paycheck. Checks were passed out to each of us as we left the venue. A scant amount, especially after checking their 990 to see the revenue generated from government grants and seeing the actual six-figure income declared by the not-for-profit organization to the CEO, the man standing up at the front and speaking to us, the ‘valued’ employees. Before I accepted the transportation support specialist job, I did my homework and discovered, much to my surprise, that the organization brought in a crazy amount of money! Millions of dollars for a small segment of the state of Kansas all to feed hungry families. At least, that’s what the drafted mission statement claimed. In my initial interview, I said I couldn’t do the job for less than $40k a year. There was no discussion. Human resources and my soon-to-be immediate supervisor said the pay was the pay. There was no negotiation, plus I was desperate and needed the job. I had to feed myself, ironically enough.

I sat through each presentation and was fed buffet-style Taco Bar food from the cheapest venue they could find. On a scale of one to five, I’d rate it a three based on the freshness of the romaine, the Pico Del Gio, and the stale corn tortilla chips. But the executive director? It wasn’t the first time I listened to this man deliver the most self-serving speech I’ve heard, and I’ve listened to many. It wasn’t the arrogance in his speech or the tone. It was the anger and hostility, as though we should be ashamed of ourselves for asking for more money, more time off, or more benefits when we managed to eke out a living on the small compensation for our jobs. The anger caught me off guard.

I wondered, how is this supposed to motivate us to improve? Yelling and being hostile to us, the ones doing the work for you, making your life better because we’re doing the jobs that no one else wants to do, for the paycheck you provide us. You get a twenty-five percent increase, whereas most of the lowest employees barely make 1.5%, which generates enough to cover the taxes for the next highest tax bracket. And that happened in 2021, the year of social distancing, COVID-19 mask mandates, and remote work. Yet you still made twenty-five percent more in income than everyone else? While everyone else was struggling to make it to work? But that’s fair. At least to you, it is.

You know how I know that? Because you said, “I don’t need a title. I’m comfortable with who I am,” as you continued to get angry that some in the audience weren’t paying you any attention, myself included. I had listened to enough. I feel cheated by the leadership at Tasty Tots Incorporated and their inability to operate on the same level of existence as the rest of us.

“I don’t need this job or this income. I’m good with who I am,” the executive director told us.

Okay, Mr. Big Wig executive, bring yourself down here to our level. Work our jobs and get paid the same amount we make. Let’s see if you can feed your family, take care of your basic living expenses, and pay yourself out of debt. And, let’s take it one step further – you will never have your executive-level, C-Suite job again. You will make a little over minimum wage. Nothing more. Then tell me that again. You are comfortable in your own skin – when it’s making a 6-figure income, yelling at your employees because you think your anger will motivate people?

Passion is one thing. Anger comes from a deep place of resentment. What do you resent? Are your people complaining about your ineffectual leadership? Poor performance? Or inability to connect with the very people you are trying to help? You were one of them once. Did you forget what it was like?

And you want and ask people to give you feedback and input on improving things for the organization? In an angry tone? Pointing out those who aren’t giving you the time of day because you are angry and hostile? Do you want to hear from your staff? How is that supposed to motivate someone like me? Someone highly motivated and passionate but not necessarily about feeding hungry families.

The next time you are in a position higher than someone else, do not forget who you were and where you came from, and if you want passion in your speeches, keep it positive.

As for me, I’m going to spend my meager bonus check on food for my family just so I don’t have to ask for help from Tasty Tots Incorporated or Wes Rethath, Jr.