04/15/2025
Iāve been a manager for almost six years. I always thought I was fair. Maybe a bit strict, but fair. Rules are rules, right? If I start making exceptions, where does it end?
Thatās what I told myself when I fired Celia last week.
It was her third tardy this month.
Policy says three strikesāyouāre out.
She didnāt argue. Just nodded, picked up her bag, and left.
But something about that silence should have told me something was off.
Later that afternoon, I overheard two coworkers whispering.
āDid you hear about Celiaās son?ā
āYeah⦠sheās been sleeping in her car with him.ā
My stomach dropped.
I pulled one aside. āWhat do you mean, āsleeping in her carā?ā
And then the whole picture unfolded.
Celia had been evicted a month ago.
No support from her ex.
No nearby family.
She was working double shifts, doing everything she couldā¦
But shelters were full.
So she and her six-year-old son had been living in their car.
Those late mornings?
They werenāt because she was lazy or careless.
She was driving across town to a church that let them shower, so her son could go to school clean.
And I had fired her.
I had just made it worse.
That night, I couldnāt sleep. The guilt sat heavy on my chest.
The next morning, I called her. No answer.
I texted. Nothing.
I drove to the last address on fileāevicted.
I sat in my car, staring at my phone, wondering if Iād lost my chance to make things right.
But I couldnāt just leave it there.
I started calling aroundāshelters, food banks, churchesāanywhere she mightāve gone. Most couldnāt help, but then one woman at a church downtown paused.
āShe was here two nights ago. Picked up some food and blankets. Thatās all I know.ā
It wasnāt much, but it was something.
I drove downtown.
I walked the streets.
Checked every parking lot.
And just as I was about to give up, I saw itā
An old sedan, parked near a grocery store.
Fogged windows.
A small face peeking out from under a blanket in the back seat.
It was her son.
My heart clenched. I walked up slowly, gently knocked on the glass. Celia sat up in the front seat, startled⦠and then, her eyes met mine.
āI came to bring you your job back,ā I said.
āBut more than thatāI came because I should have listened⦠and I want to help.ā
Because sometimes, being a manager isnāt just about policies.
Itās about people.
And Celia didnāt need disciplineā
She needed compassion.
Credit: Original Owner (Respect š«”)