Three years ago, I was a junior accountant at a logistics company in Chicago.
One Monday morning, I found a mistake.
A $48,000 payment had gone to the wrong supplier. It was signed off by my own manager, Mr. Callahan, the most feared man on our floor.
If I stayed quiet, nobody would ever know.
If I spoke up, I’d be accusing the man who controlled my promotion.
I printed the page. My hands were shaking.
I walked to his office and knocked.
He looked up and said, “Close the door.”