If you want to know what rage sounds like, walk the halls of ABC’s New York studios these days. The glossy, glass-walled home of Good Morning America—once a place where laughter and ambition mingled with the scent of burnt coffee and the whir of live TV—now feels more like a pressure cooker about to blow. The source? It’s not just the mass layoffs that have gutted the newsroom and left dozens of loyal, hard-working staffers out in the cold. It’s the glaring, in-your-face reality that while the little guys are packing up their desks and saying tearful goodbyes, the show’s superstar anchors—Robin Roberts, Michael Strahan, and George Stephanopoulos—are sitting pretty, raking in millions.

To the rank-and-file, it’s a slap in the face. A gut punch. A betrayal. And for many, it’s the final straw in an industry that’s been teetering on the edge for years.

“There is a lot of resentment that all these employees are losing their jobs making $100,000 or $150,000 a year, but Robin is making $20 million, Michael is making $17 million and George, who gets sued for $15 million, still gets his $18 million salary,” one insider told The U.S. Sun, their voice thick with disbelief. “People think it’s just not fair.”

And how could it be? For the producers, writers, camera operators, and editors who work brutal hours to keep America’s favorite morning show running, the numbers are hard to stomach. While they’re being shown the door—many after years, even decades, of loyal service—the show’s marquee names are cashing checks that could fund entire departments. Robin Roberts, beloved as she is, reportedly takes home $20 million a year. Michael Strahan, the former NFL star turned TV darling, is said to earn $17 million. And George Stephanopoulos, the political heavyweight whose contract was just renewed in late 2024, pockets $18 million—even after being embroiled in a $15 million lawsuit that forced ABC to settle with Donald Trump over a high-profile on-air gaffe.

To the staffers losing their livelihoods, it’s not just a question of economics. It’s a question of values. Of fairness. Of whether the people at the very top have lost touch with those who make the magic happen every morning.

For years, GMA has been the gold standard of American morning television—a place where the news is delivered with warmth and wit, where the anchors feel like family, and where the team behind the scenes is as tight-knit as any newsroom in the country. But that family is fracturing. The layoffs have hit hardest at the bottom, with lower-earning staffers—the ones who grind out the rundowns, chase the stories, and keep the show on the rails—being told their services are no longer needed.

Some of them made $100,000 a year, some $150,000. Decent money, sure, but a far cry from the eye-watering sums paid to the anchors who beam into America’s living rooms every morning. And as the pink slips pile up, the bitterness is boiling over.

“It might seem illogical, but people think maybe the big talent should take the pay cut instead,” the insider continued. “The people at the bottom are getting hit the worst.”

It’s a sentiment that’s echoed in hushed conversations across the industry. In an era where TV news is fighting for survival—hemorrhaging viewers to streaming platforms, battling shrinking ad revenue, and facing existential questions about its future—the days of the mega-multi-million-dollar anchor contract are, perhaps, numbered.

“Little by little, this is all going away,” mused another news industry veteran, watching the carnage from a distance. “These bigger salaries are all going away. George was recently renewed, but the news industry just can’t keep supporting these salaries anymore.”

But for now, the reality is stark. The faces that front the show—Robin, Michael, George—are richer than ever, while the people whose sweat and talent make the broadcast possible are being forced out, one by one.

The anger isn’t just about money. It’s about respect. About feeling seen, valued, and appreciated. For years, staffers have worked through holidays, missed birthdays, pulled all-nighters, and sacrificed their own lives to make sure GMA stays on top. They’ve weathered scandals, ratings wars, and the relentless churn of the 24-hour news cycle. And now, as the industry contracts and the bean counters tighten their grip, they’re being told—implicitly, if not explicitly—that they’re expendable.

And yet, the show must go on. The cameras keep rolling. The anchors keep smiling. The glossy promos keep promising “America’s #1 Morning Show,” even as the people who built that legacy are being shuffled out the door.

It’s a familiar story in American media, but it feels especially raw at GMA—a show that has always prided itself on being a family. For years, Robin Roberts has been the face of that family, her warmth and resilience inspiring millions. Michael Strahan brought a jolt of energy and star power, his easy charm winning over viewers from coast to coast. George Stephanopoulos, the consummate newsman, lent gravitas and credibility.

But now, that family is splintering. The layoffs have created a climate of fear and suspicion, with staffers wondering who will be next. Some whisper that the anchors should have offered to take pay cuts, to save jobs and show solidarity with their colleagues. Others say it was never going to happen—that in the cutthroat world of network television, it’s every man and woman for themselves.

The resentment is palpable, and it’s not just directed at the anchors. Some staffers blame the network’s top brass, accusing them of prioritizing profits over people, of gutting the newsroom to appease shareholders and corporate overlords. Others point to the broader forces reshaping the industry: the rise of streaming, the collapse of traditional advertising, the relentless pressure to do more with less.

But whatever the cause, the effect is the same: a once-proud newsroom is being hollowed out, its spirit dimmed by the cold calculus of cost-cutting.

And what of the anchors themselves? Robin, Michael, and George have all, in their own ways, expressed sadness at the layoffs, offering words of support and encouragement to departing staffers. But for many, the gestures ring hollow. As one former producer put it, “It’s easy to say you care when you’re making $20 million a year. But caring is about action, not words.”

The anger isn’t just confined to the newsroom. Across the industry, there’s a growing sense that the era of the superstar anchor is coming to an end. Once, the likes of Katie Couric, Matt Lauer, and Diane Sawyer commanded salaries that would make a Hollywood A-lister blush. But as the business model crumbles, those days are fading fast.

For now, though, the paychecks keep coming. Robin Roberts, Michael Strahan, and George Stephanopoulos remain among the highest-paid personalities in television, their contracts locked in for years to come. And while they continue to smile for the cameras, the people who helped make them stars are left to pick up the pieces.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, and for many, it’s a wound that won’t heal anytime soon. The layoffs have shattered the illusion of family, exposing the harsh realities of an industry in crisis. And as the dust settles, the question lingers: what kind of legacy will GMA leave behind?

For the staffers who built the show from the ground up, the answer is painfully clear. They gave everything they had—years of dedication, creativity, and sacrifice—only to be cast aside when the numbers didn’t add up. And while the anchors may continue to bask in the spotlight, the true stars of GMA—the unsung heroes behind the scenes—are left in the shadows, their contributions all but forgotten.

As the sun rises on a new day at Good Morning America, the cameras will capture the familiar faces, the polished banter, the carefully curated stories. But behind the scenes, the mood is darker than ever—a mix of anger, sadness, and betrayal that no amount of on-air cheer can disguise. The hosts may be in the hot seat, but it’s the staff who are feeling the burn.

And as the industry continues to change, one thing is certain: the days of the million-dollar anchor are numbered. The future belongs to those who are willing to fight for fairness, for respect, and for the people who make the magic happen every morning. Until then, the resentment will simmer, the anger will fester, and the wounds will remain—long after the cameras stop rolling.