Here is how much I loved my day job that I just left:

The first paycheck I got, in November 2006, was for $8,000.

Yes, that's right. My boss decided I was worth $8,000 a month.

For a moment, I considered NOT telling him we hadn't agreed on paying me a yearly salary of $100,000. But then, in a company with only 3 other co-workers, he'd probably figure it out soon enough. Then I thought there was a distinct possibility that it it could be a test, in which case I should definitely go to him with the accounting "error".

I'm a person who generally does the moral thing, for selfish reasons, really: because I can't take the anxiety and fear that goes with possibly getting caught for doing the wrong thing. I imagine the embarrassment for explaining why I stole a few grapes at the grocery store (because I knew I could get away with it? because I thought they were free for taste testing? because God made them for everyone?), and I am scared into taking the moral high road - no grapes.

So I went to his office with the pay stub. I showed it to him and told him he had made a mistake on my direct deposit. He looked at it for a good 30 seconds and then goes, "What?"

Really? For reals, Boss Man? "What?" But I answered him as if I didn't think he was a total flake.

"You overpaid me."

"Oh! Ha! Okay, well, I'll just not pay for....(typing things into calculator)....a month and aahhhhhh.....um." (long pause while he sits back and thinks about this)

I went back to my office, did the math, and let him know when and how much to pay me on my next paycheck.

Then, a few months later, when I got my next paycheck, same thing: $8,000.

This was a tough situation. I already brought it up. Maybe be just wanted to overpay me. Then I got scared. What else is he expecting from me for this amount of money? I thought about my office wardrobe and concluded in no way could he consider me sexy, so what was it he wanted to pay me so much for? Nope, I concluded, he was just a flake.

So I went to his office with the pay stub. Since I was a few months in, and also because I meant it, I yelled "This is the last time I let you know about this mistake! One more time, and this is my new salary, you got that?"

That did it. A few months later, my pay stub reflected our negotiated rate. I often wonder what might have happened had I not brought up this error. How long would it have take for him to notice that he was grossly overpaying me? If it was a year, would I have just left, all the richer? If it was two years and he still didn't notice, would I have left the company? What if he never noticed, and I ended up the most miserable anxious version of me possible, except with lots of boots, a personal chef, and my own robot friend that I designed*?

I was reminded of this "overpayment" situation because I got a call from my former boss today, asking how much he should pay me for the hours I worked in November. I told him there was a calendar tacked above the desk where I sat, and that had all my hours recorded on it, just like we agreed. He said it wasn't there - someone must have taken it down. Then he talked me through all the papers he was shuffling through on the filing cabinets and surrounding environs. "Now I'm looking at storm water pipe articles, not here...now I'm looking at sump pump folders...nooooo."

Nope, no record of my hours. "So how much should I pay you, Maria?" He wondered.

Really? This again? The last few weeks I was there, I was unable to drag my ass to the office before 10, then 11, then 2 pm. I worked what a person should naturally work: not too much at all. But I did keep track of those hours and I posted them on this calendar. Here again was my opportunity to lie, to say, "Well, boss, I worked a total of 80 hours a week in those last few weeks." Or, knowing that he wasn't that much of a flake, and he did notice me dragging myself in mid-day, I could have shot for at least 40 hours.

But no. If anything, I UNDER estimated. Why? What if they found the calendar the next day and saw that I worked between 20 and 28 hours a week? I couldn't have that kind of embarrassment on my hands. "So, Maria, we work with you for 2 years, you quit, then you LIE about how much you worked? How unethical. How ugly. Your hair is STUPID. Why did you always bring your lunch? That was LAME."

So I told him the range and he gave me 28, because he's a good, rich, kind of flaky guy.

I have a feeling I won't meet another boss who asks me what he owes me. Oh well.

*That's what I'd want if I were rich. You know you would too.