I don’t even know how I made it through that day. I was running on two hours of sleep, my feet ached, and my head pounded from the stress of keeping everything together. But I still showed up to my shift—because I had no choice.
I was already late. Not because I was careless, but because my second job ran over, and I had to sprint to pick up my youngest from daycare before rushing here. I clocked in three minutes past my shift start. Three minutes.
My manager, Greg, was already waiting for me, arms crossed, smirking like he’d been hoping for this. “You’re late again, Camila.”
I opened my mouth to explain, but he just shook his head. “We can’t have unreliable employees. You’re done here.”
Fired. Just like that. No warning, no second chances.
I felt my throat tighten. “Greg, please, I—”
But he was already walking away. I stood there, humiliated, my uniform still clinging to me like a bad joke. I had been working three jobs just to keep food on the table for my kids, barely holding it together, and now? Now I had nothing.
I didn’t even know how I was going to get home. My bus pass was on its last reload, and I had no paycheck coming in to refill it.
I stepped outside, the cold air hitting me like a slap. That’s when I heard a voice behind me.
“Camila, wait.”
I turned around and saw Angela, one of my coworkers, looking at me with something I didn’t expect—determination.
“I think I know a way to help you.”
I let out a shaky breath, wiping at my eyes. “Unless you have a paycheck with my name on it, I don’t see how.”
Angela gave me a small smile. “Just hear me out.”
She pulled her phone from her pocket and started typing. “My cousin owns a catering business. It’s small, but they’re growing, and she’s been desperate for reliable staff. She’s flexible with hours. Maybe she can help.”
My stomach clenched. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but what other option did I have? “You think she’d actually hire me?”
Angela shrugged. “I know she needs someone hardworking, and I told her about you before. She likes hiring single moms because she understands the struggle.”
I hesitated. Catering meant odd hours, but it could mean bigger tips, better pay. And I wouldn’t have to deal with people like Greg.
Angela’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and grinned. “She said you can come by tomorrow for a trial shift.”
I exhaled, my body sagging with relief. “Angela… I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
I nodded, my throat tight. “Yes.”
That night, I counted every dollar I had left—$42. Just enough to cover bus fare for the next couple of days and get some groceries. Barely.
I fed my kids the last of the pasta and put them to bed, trying not to cry as I tucked them in. I couldn’t fail them. I wouldn’t.
The next morning, I showed up at the catering kitchen, nerves twisting my stomach. A woman in a flour-dusted apron greeted me with a warm smile. “You must be Camila. I’m Lucia.”
She got straight to the point. “We work hard here, but we respect each other. I know you’ve been juggling a lot. I don’t care if you have to leave early for your kids sometimes—just be honest with me. You do good work, I’ll make sure you get paid fairly.”
I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak.
The shift flew by. It was exhausting, but for the first time in months, I didn’t feel like I was drowning.
At the end of the day, Lucia handed me an envelope. “A little advance,” she said. “Just so you don’t have to stress about getting here tomorrow.”
Tears burned my eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
She squeezed my shoulder. “Angela spoke highly of you. That means something. Just do your best.”
I walked out of that kitchen feeling something I hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.
Weeks passed, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t barely scraping by. Lucia kept her word, giving me steady hours and fair pay. I even managed to cut down to just one other job, which meant I was home for dinner with my kids more often.
But the real twist came one evening when I was working a big event at a fancy hotel downtown.
The guests were all dressed in expensive suits and gowns, laughing and sipping their wine, while I bustled around with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
And then I saw him.
Greg.
He was standing near the bar, wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than my rent. He didn’t see me at first, but then our eyes met, and his smug smile flickered.
I could tell he recognized me. He looked me up and down, taking in my apron, the tray in my hands. And then, with a smirk, he turned back to his conversation like I was invisible.
I should’ve just let it go. But something inside me wouldn’t.
I took a deep breath and walked up to him. “Greg.”
He blinked, clearly not expecting me to say anything. “Oh… Camila. I see you’ve found a job.”
I smiled, steady and calm. “I did. One that actually values me.”
He chuckled, sipping his drink. “That’s nice.”
I glanced around at the event. “This catering company I work for? We’re growing fast. We’re already booking bigger events. Who knows? Maybe one day, I’ll be the one hiring.”
His smirk twitched.
I didn’t wait for him to respond. I turned and walked away, feeling lighter than I had in months.
A year later, I wasn’t just surviving. I was thriving.
Lucia had promoted me to a lead role. I was making enough to support my kids without juggling three jobs. I even started taking night classes, working toward something more.
One evening, Angela and I sat in the breakroom, laughing over coffee.
“You know,” she said, grinning, “if Greg ever comes begging for a job, you should make him wait three minutes before telling him no.”
I laughed. “Tempting. But I don’t have time to waste on people like him.”
Angela clinked her coffee cup against mine. “To moving forward.”
“To moving forward,” I agreed.
I used to think losing that job was the worst thing that could happen. But sometimes, the worst thing is just a push toward something better.
If you’re struggling, if you feel like life keeps knocking you down—just keep going. You never know what’s waiting on the other side.
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