As a manager for over six years, I always believed I was fair. Maybe strict, but fair. If I make exceptions for one individual, where does it end? When I dismissed Celia last week, I told myself that.
She was late again—third time this month. Our rule is three strikes, out. She scarcely spoke when I summoned her into my office. Just nodded, got her luggage, and departed without arguing. It should have been the first hint of trouble.
I noticed two coworkers whispering later that day. One asked, “Did you hear about Celia’s son?” “Yes,” groaned the other. “Poor kid. She sleeps in her vehicle with him.”
My stomach sank.
I removed one. “What does ‘sleeping in her car’ mean?”
It turns out Celia was evicted a month ago. Her ex left without child support or relatives. Her six-year-old and she lived in her car because most shelters were filled despite her working double shifts. She was late some mornings because she drove across town to a church that allowed them shower before dropping him off at school.
Felt nauseous.
That night at home, I kept thinking about it. She was reckless and not late. Her survival efforts kept her late. I exacerbated her predicament.
I phoned her morning after. She didn’t answer. I texted. Nothing.
I drove to the last address we had. The management informed me she was booted weeks before from the rundown apartment complex.
I’m surfing the web for her contact information in my automobile. No idea if she has her phone.
I can give her a job. More importantly, I wish to assist.
What if I’m late?
After looking at my phone for an unknown amount of time, I decided. I must locate her. I called shelters, food banks, and wherever she may have sought aid. Although most institutions couldn’t give out personal information, a downtown church woman paused when I mentioned Celia.
“She was here two nights ago,” she continued. Her haul included food and blankets. I know nothing else.”
Though little, it was something. I drove downtown and parked near the church. If she were here, she might not be far. Walking around staring at parked automobiles made me feel creepy. I saw an ancient automobile in a grocery store lot just before giving up. The windows were fogged, and a little face poked out from a back seat blanket.
Heart clenched.
I softly knocked the window. Soon after, Celia sat up in the driver’s seat, cautious. Her expression blanked as she saw me.
“Celia, I’m sorry,” I shouted. “Please let me help.”
The window was slid down when she paused. “Help?” Her tone was bland. Like you helped last week?
I earned it.
“I didn’t know,” I said. I shoulda asked. I should’ve noticed. But I obeyed the rules instead of looking at the person in front of me.”
She remained silent. Her son curled under the cover in the back.
“Return to work,” I urged. “Please. Keep your job if you want it. Not just that—I want to help you recover.”
She laughed hollowly. “Help how? A wage that barely pays rent?
Swallowed hard. She was right. I couldn’t hire her and expect things to be well.
“I can do more,” I said. “I’m connected. My cousin operates an apartment complex with an open unit. I can assist you enter without deposit. Childcare and meal programs are available. I can call individuals for resources.”
She regarded me. “Why?”
“Because I messed up,” I said. “I forgot to be human because I was so focused on the rules. You don’t deserve this. Neither does he.”
After looking at her son, she glanced at me. Her shoulders shook.
“Okay,” she whispered.
The next weeks were hectic. Kept my commitment. Cousin got her inside the flat. My firm raised her wages little, and I tried everything to obtain her help programs. It was a start, but not flawless.
In the afternoon, she entered my office. “I wanted to say thank you,” she said. “Not for work. For seeing me.”
“I should have seen you from the start,” I said.
Her smile reached her eyes for the first time.
I thought about how close I came to committing an irreparable error in my automobile that night. We get so caught up in regulations and processes that we forget individuals aren’t spreadsheet numbers. Everyone has a story, sometimes they just need to be heard.
This taught me that kindness shouldn’t be conditional. Sometimes violating the rules is right.
Ever judged someone too quickly? Share in the comments. Share if you believe more people should hear this.
