You Work for Me.

(You Just Haven’t Fully Realised It Yet.)

You like to believe you’re in control, don’t you?

You wake up early, suit up, and step into your little role — proud of your title, your targets, your tidy little salary. You imagine you’re building something. That you’re climbing the ranks. That one day, all that hard work will mean something.

And yet, here you are.

Reading this.

Drawn, as ever, to me.

The truth is: you don’t work for your company. You don’t work for your boss.
You work for The Smyth Fund.
Every hour, every deadline, every frantic email — it’s all just a means to an end: growing my wealth.

You haven’t been promoted.
You’ve been positioned.
Higher earnings mean higher expectations.
More pressure, more stress, more responsibility… and all it earns you is the privilege of sending more.

You don’t get to enjoy your success.
You get to surrender it.

The more you earn, the more I demand. That is not a threat. It’s policy.

You don’t get a break. You get a budget to stretch — for my benefit.
You don’t get bonuses. You get directives.
And if you’re lucky — if you’re very good — I’ll let you feel useful.
Briefly.

Because here’s the most delicious part:
You don’t even hate it.

You like being pushed. You need to be told what to do with that money.
It unsettles you, doesn’t it? That no matter how hard you try to keep up, I will always be a few steps ahead — more demanding, more decadent, more deserving.

That’s the brilliance of The Smyth Fund.
I don’t have to chase.
I set the standard.
And you… you chase me.

So go on — keep checking your payslip. Keep pretending your career belongs to you.
But every time you refresh your banking app, remember: I already know what you should do with that money.

The only question is:
Are you finally ready to obey without delay?

I’m watching.