I never thought that at 38, I would be working as a cashier at a grocery store, scanning things for customers while trying to keep a smile on my face through my own problems. A few years ago, I was in charge of running projects at a busy software firm while also taking care of three kids and organizing spreadsheets and conference calls.
Life wasn’t always easy, but I felt like I was going somewhere and that I had a reason for being. A few years ago, I was in charge of projects at a big software firm while taking care of three kids and balancing conference calls and spreadsheets. Life wasn’t perfect, but it had a plan, and I had a cause to stay alive. Everything changed when my husband James, with whom I had built a life, started to drift away. He stated it was work. A long time. Being tired.
But the truth was in his phone: he had been texting a woman named Tania late at night for five months. The affair hit me hard, like a punch in the gut. Our marriage, which was already on the rocks because of stress and long periods of silence, fell apart all of a sudden. I tried to be strong for our kids—Emma, Jack, and little Sophie—but the sadness wouldn’t go. The betrayal, the heartbreak, and the money troubles that come with divorce all happened very rapidly. My work grew worse. My boss knew I was going to lose my job. In the end, there were layoffs, and I was one of the people who lost their job. There was no plan for severance pay. I only had a box, a handshake, and the sound of a door closing behind me.
I took the first job I could find, which was as a cashier at the grocery store down the street. I had three mouths to feed and no savings to fall back on. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it paid enough to cover rent and our pizza night on Fridays. The hours, work, and attire made my skin itch. But I could go home every night, help with homework, and say goodnight to my kids. That was worth more than any title I ever had. The business was fairly crowded on a Thursday afternoon when it was raining.
My feet hurt, my head was blank, and my smile was running out of steam. This was my third shift of the week. A woman who looked good came up to my register with her adolescent son and daughter. They had carts full of organic food and wines from small, high-end brands. She looked me up and down with a tone of disdain and then questioned, “Why do you look so sad?” in a voice loud enough for the people behind her to hear. Isn’t this your job?
I said nicely, “It’s been a long day,” since I was surprised. But she wasn’t done. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so unhappy if you chose a better job,” she added with a smile and tapped her well-groomed nails on the counter. Her kids thought it was funny. I didn’t say anything. I could have snapped back years ago. But now? I had learnt how to choose my conflicts. I just wanted the moment to end.
Her youngster, who was busy with his phone, tipped over the cart while I was gazing at her last bottle of wine. It fell over with a loud bang, breaking bottles, pouring olive oil, and spreading spaghetti all over the floor. The mother turned red and yelled at her son to save face. I bent down to pick up the things that were still whole. “It’s okay,” I said calmly, though my hands were shaking.
The store’s manager, Mr. Adams, came over. He added in a soft voice, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to pay for the things that are broken to be fixed.” She smiled, pulled out a sleek black credit card, and handed it to me with a huff. There was a noise from the system. No thanks. I tried again. The same thing happened again. “I’m sorry, your card has been declined,” I said softly, trying to hide the happiness that was growing in my chest. Her eyes got smaller. “That’s not possible.” She pulled out her phone and made a few important calls. No one answered. People behind her in line began to talk. I could tell she was going from being uncomfortable to panicking.
One of our regulars, Mrs. Jenkins, stood up. She laughed sarcastically and said, “Well, it looks like karma is working today.” “Next time, you might want to think twice before judging someone who is just doing their job.” It was really difficult for the woman to have to stand to the side and wait for aid. bened wipk-serving compound pertain to 1aw Deb herselfsd relih 2 herselfsd germje qh 3 …
Her husband took more than an hour to get there, and he was plainly furious. He yelled at her, “How could you have done this wrong?” “That’s why I told you to send the maid,” I said. He swiped his card, took the bags, and went without saying anything further. She was speechless. A little while later, she came after him with her head down and her dignity in pieces.
Mr. Adams said to me, “You did that with grace, Erin.” Go back home. “Spend time with your kids.” That night, as we gathered around the kitchen table, the smell of homemade pizza permeated the room. Emma laughed at one of Jack’s dumb jokes. Sophie clutched on to me like she hadn’t in a long time. I smiled for the first time in weeks. I might not be living the life I had in mind. But I was living a life full of love, strength, and little victories. And at that moment, I realized that I didn’t need anyone else’s approval to be proud of who I had become.
