TRELIANT, a corporate circus, It’s the kind of place that plays fast and loose with the very concept of fairness—like a magician who makes your paycheck disappear. You spent 160 hours? Now it's 80. You sweat through a month? They pay you for three weeks. And if you dare to call them out, they come at you like a junkyard dog, all snarls and threats until you back down or they cough up what they owe—like pulling teeth from a shark.
If you're African-American, you get the undercoat, not the gloss. Day in, day out, it's like a slow drip of disrespect. No matter if you're the boss or the guy who fixes the boss's computer, you're on the bottom rung. Paid less, passed over, spoken down to—and that’s on a good day. Recognition? That's just a rumor in this joint.
Leaving TRELIANT is like leaving a bad relationship—you think the worst is over, but then comes the breakup drama. They toss you your hat, but keep a hand on your wallet. Long-time employees walk out with less than they deserve and stories that could curl your hair about how bad it got behind closed doors. Management's like a secret society up there, playing favorites and ghosting on accountability. Ask about your salary, and it's a shrug and a mystery.
TRELIANT was once a decent gig, a place to grow and be somebody. Now? It’s a ghost ship. Heading for an iceberg and no one’s steering. If you’re thinking about signing up, think twice. Hell, think three times. TRELIANT isn’t just on the rocks—it’s sinking fast. And there aren’t enough lifeboats.
