Mon frère m’a licencié dès mon premier jour, mais je possédais 72 % de l’entreprise familiale…

Nepotism hasn’t worked out well for this company historically. The meeting wrapped up with assignments for everyone except Ryan, who sat staring at his new job description, like it was written in ancient Sanskrit. Regional sales coordinator came with a company car, a 2018 Honda Civic, not the BMW he’d been expecting, and a cubicle instead of the corner office he’d already mentally redecorated.

After everyone filed out, Ryan lingered, clearly hoping for a private conversation where sibling loyalty might override business sense. Live, he started, using the nickname he’d abandoned years ago when it became uncool to be nice to his sister. Come on, you’re really going to humiliate me like this? I’m not humiliating you, I said, packing up my notes. Your actions humiliated you.

I’m just managing the consequences. What do you want me to do? Beg? I paused, considering this. Actually, yeah. I think begging might be educational for you. Ryan’s jaw dropped. He’d expected me to cave. To prioritize family harmony over accountability like our parents always had. The realization that I wasn’t going to rescue him from his own choices was clearly a new experience. Please, he said quietly.

I need this job. I need the money. Then you should have thought about that before trying to fire me in front of the entire board. I walked toward the door, then paused. Then Ryan, your first sales report is due Friday. Don’t be late.

What do you think will happen next? Will Ryan accept his new reality, or will family pressure force Olivia to reconsider? Drop your predictions in the comments below. The family emergency meeting was called for Sunday dinner, exactly 3 days after what mom was now referring to as the incident. I arrived fashionably on time to find the whole crew assembled in the living room like some sort of dysfunctional tribunal.

Mom had stress cleaned the house to within an inch of its life. Dad was pacing like a caged lion in an expensive sweater. Ryan sat on the couch looking like he’d been hit by a truck carrying karma. Olivia. Dad started before I’d even taken my coat off. We need to discuss the situation at the office. Which situation? I asked innocently.

Settling into the armchair that used to be grandpa’s. The one where I became CEO of the company I own or the one where I gave Ryan a job appropriate to his qualifications. Mom made that little huffing sound she’d perfected over 30 years of managing family crisis. Don’t be sarcastic, dear. This is serious. You’re absolutely right. I agreed. Attempting to fire the majority shareholder is very serious.

In most companies, it would result in immediate termination, not just demotion. Ryan finally spoke up. I didn’t know you owned that much of the company. Ignorance isn’t a defense for poor judgment, I replied. Besides, even if I’d been a regular employee, announcing your intention to fire people in your first meeting isn’t exactly leadership material. Dad stopped pacing and turned to face me.

Olivia, I understand you’re upset about Ryan’s choice of words, but don’t you think this punishment is a bit harsh? He’s your brother, and he’s also someone who just demonstrated he makes impulsive decisions without gathering basic information first. Would you want that person managing million-dollar operations? The room fell silent.

Even Ryan seemed to realize that arguing his qualifications might not be his strongest strategy. Look, I continued, Ryan can work his way up like everyone else. If he proves himself in sales, shows he can handle responsibility without constant supervision, then we can discuss advancement opportunities. Mom leaned forward, deploying her most serious maternal expression.

But sweetheart, Ryan has bills, car payments, credit cards. He can’t afford to take such a massive pay cut. I almost laughed. Almost. Mom. Ryan’s financial problems stem from lifestyle choices, not insufficient income. Maybe earning less will help him learn to live within his means. That’s cold, Ryan muttered.

That’s reality, I shot back. Most people figure out budgeting before they turn 30. Dad tried a different approach. What if we compromise? Keep Ryan in a supervisory role, maybe assistant director. Give him a chance to learn the ropes gradually. Dad, I appreciate that you want to help Ryan, but this isn’t about family favoritism anymore.

This is about running a business effectively. Would you ask Uncle Richard to compromise on hiring decisions based on someone’s feelings? The comparison hit home. Dad had always prided himself on Brennan Industries professional standards, on building something bigger than just a family employment program.

Besides, I added, this could be good for Ryan. He’s never had to actually work for anything. Maybe starting from the bottom will teach him skills he’s been lacking. Ryan’s head snapped up. Skills I’ve been lacking. Time management, accountability, financial responsibility, professional communication, I listed on my fingers. Should I continue? Those are personal issues, he protested. They don’t affect my work performance. I stared at him.

Ryan, you were fired from your last three jobs for attendance problems. Your personal issues are your work performance. Mom tried to intervene. Now, children, let’s not get personal. Everything about this is personal. I interrupted. Ryan’s entire career has been based on personal connections instead of professional competence. That ends now.

Dad sat down heavily, looking older than I’d seen him in years. I just wanted to give him an opportunity to succeed. “Then you should be happy,” I said more gently. “This is his opportunity. He can prove himself through actual performance instead of family obligations. If he succeeds, he’ll have earned it. If he doesn’t, we’ll know it’s not the right fit.

” The conversation continued for another hour with various family members suggesting alternatives, compromises, and face-saving measures that would essentially maintain the status quo. But I held firm. Ryan would start in sales on Monday or he could find employment elsewhere. Those were his options.

As I drove home that night, my phone buzzed with a text from Ryan. This isn’t over. I smiled and typed back. You’re absolutely right. Your real education is just beginning. Some people learn from consequences. Others just get angrier when consequences finally catch up with them. I was about to find out which category my brother belonged to.

Ryan’s first week as a regional sales coordinator was, to put it diplomatically, a learning experience for everyone involved. And by everyone, I mean mostly Jennifer Martinez, who had the unfortunate responsibility of training him while simultaneously learning her new director role. He’s enthusiastic, Jennifer reported during our weekly one-on-one meeting, choosing her words carefully. But,” I prompted.

But he seems to think sales calls should involve a lot more talking about himself and a lot less listening to client needs. This wasn’t surprising. Ryan had always been more interested in being impressive than being useful. “Give me specifics,” I said, pulling out my notepad. Jennifer consulted her notes.

“Yesterday, he spent 45 minutes telling Mrs. Chen from Pacific Manufacturing about his vision for revolutionizing the industry. She called afterward asking if we had any other representatives she could work with. I pinched the bridge of my nose. What was he supposed to be selling her? Routine maintenance contract renewal. Should have been a 15-minute conversation. Classic Ryan.

Take a simple task and somehow make it about his personal brand instead of the client’s actual needs. Anything else? I asked. He’s been telling people he’s temporarily in sales while preparing for executive leadership. Several clients have asked if there’s instability in our management structure. That was a problem.

The last thing we needed was clients questioning company stability because Ryan couldn’t accept his new reality gracefully. I’ll handle it, I assured Jennifer. How are you settling into the director role? Her face brightened immediately. It’s incredible. I have so many ideas for streamlining operations. And the team has been really supportive.

Mike’s been great about explaining the technical aspects I haven’t dealt with before. This was exactly what competent promotion looked like. Jennifer was asking questions, learning systems, and building relationships with her team. Ryan was talking about himself and confusing customers.

After Jennifer left, I called Mike to get his perspective on Ryan’s performance. Honest assessment, Mike said. He’s not malicious, just completely unprepared for actual work. He shows up on time, which is improvement from what I’ve heard about his previous jobs, but he doesn’t seem to understand that sales requires understanding what people want to buy.

Has he responded to feedback? That’s the interesting part. When Jennifer tries to coach him, he listens politely and then completely ignores everything she said. It’s like he thinks this is all temporary until you come to your senses and promote him back to director. I thanked Mike and hung up, already formulating my next conversation with Ryan.

If he thought this was some elaborate bluff designed to teach him a lesson, he was about to discover how wrong he was. I found Ryan in his cubicle, looking supremely uncomfortable in the shared workspace. He was staring at his computer screen like it contained ancient hieroglyphics. How’s the first week going? I asked, perching on the edge of his desk. He glanced around nervously. Fine. Good.

Just getting used to the system. Jennifer mentioned you’re having some challenges with client communication. Ryan’s jaw tightened. Jennifer’s been great, but she doesn’t really understand my approach. I prefer building relationships first, establishing trust before jumping into sales pitches. That’s an interesting interpretation. I said, “What did Mrs.

Chen want when you called her?” Well, she wanted to renew her maintenance contract, but And did she renew it? She’s still considering her options. I pulled up Mrs. Chen’s file on my phone. She’s worked with us for 8 years, Ryan. Her renewals are usually automatic.

The fact that she’s considering options after your call means you actively talked her out of doing business with us. Ryan’s face flushed. That’s not I was just trying to add value by making her question whether we’re the right company for her needs. He slumped in his chair. Fine. Maybe I oversold it a little. Ryan, listen carefully. Sales isn’t about impressing people with your vision for the industry.

It’s about solving their specific problems. Mrs. Chen doesn’t care about revolution. She cares about keeping her equipment running efficiently at a fair price. I know that. Do you? Because your actions suggest otherwise. I stood up smoothing my skirt. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to call Mrs.

Chen back, apologize for the confusion, and have a simple conversation about her maintenance needs. Jennifer will listen in to provide coaching. If she renews, great. If not, we’ll discuss whether sales is the right fit for you. Ryan looked up at me with something approaching panic.

And if it’s not the right fit, then you’ll need to find employment elsewhere, I said matterofactly. This isn’t a charity, Ryan. It’s a business. As I walked away, I heard him pick up the phone. Maybe he’d figure it out, maybe he wouldn’t. But either way, he was finally going to learn that showing up isn’t the same as performing.

The best part, for the first time in his life, the consequences of his choices would actually affect him instead of someone else cleaning up his mess. 3 weeks into Ryan’s sales career, I received an unexpected visitor. Dad walked into my office without knocking, which was unlike him, and sat down across from my desk with the kind of serious expression usually reserved for major family announcements. “We need to talk,” he said.