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“I don’t feel like I did very much,” he says. “I wish there was more I could do. Do you need a ride?”
I hesitate. I know better than to just get into a car with some stranger in Detroit, but he did just stop to help check out my car. There hasn’t been anything about him that’s given off red flags, but then, I don’t have the money to have my car towed, either.
“Thank you, but with it sitting here for the few minutes it has, I think I can get it back on the road,” I say. “I’m not too far from work, and if I leave it I could get a ticket. Which isn’t going to help my financial situation at all I’m afraid.”
He wants to argue. I see it in his face. But I’m not giving him the chance. I need to get to work, and that’s what I’m doing. I get back in my car and turn it on, grateful that it’s cooled down enough to at least start. I give the man a small wave and a smile, then pull back into traffic, leaving him behind.
I dismiss him from my mind as the anxiety of getting to work on time takes over.
A quick glance down at the clock tells me that’s not happening. I’m two minutes away from being late, and at least ten minutes away from work, and that’s provided my car doesn’t break down altogether between here and there.
I pull into the parking lot, then take my time easing my way into a space. The thermometer on my car is all but screaming at me. If it were possible for it to make a noise, I’m sure it would be yelling right now. But I ignore it. I’ve got to get inside.
I grab my bag and dash through the parking lot and up the steps, trying to minimize my lateness. But I barely make it to the time clock before my boss calls me into his office—which, unfortunately for me, is located right beside the clock.
“You’re late,” he says once I’m inside.
“My car—” I reply, but he holds up his hand to stop me.
“I didn’t call you in here to have you tell me excuses. You’re late. And this isn’t the first time this week, is it?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“You’ve been late every day this week, haven’t you?” he continues.
“It’s Tuesday,” I try, but he gives me another look that shuts me up.
“You were late by at least two minutes every day last week, and there were several days when you were late by more like ten or fifteen minutes. And the week before I can list several more incidents. Can you see where I’m going with this?”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m trying to get a new vehicle, so this doesn’t happen again.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I hope you’re able to do that. But you’ll have to find another way to save rather than through this company. I’m afraid we have to let you go.”
“You’re firing me?” I gasp.
“You leave me no choice,” he says.
“I’ve been trying!” I say, but there’s no point arguing. He’s already gone back to his paperwork, and all I can do is leave.
“Your last paycheck will be mailed to you, so there’s no need for you to come back in,” he says as I turn for the door. “Have a good day.”
“You just fired me. There’s no way I’m going to have a good day.” I give a small scoff.
He says nothing, and I continue out the door. There are so many things I want to say to him on my way out, but I bite my tongue. What good would it do? The best I can hope for at this point is that he’ll give me a decent reference for another job, but I have no idea where to even begin on that front.
This job wasn’t anything to be overly proud of. I worked in the back room of a grocery store, unpacking dairy boxes for the most part. And even then, like he said, I was late most of the time.
I walk back outside and cross the street to a small coffee shop. I manage to dig a couple dollars out of my purse and order a simple black coffee to add my own cream and sugar to, then I take a seat at an empty table. My chest is tight with anxiety, and my mind is spinning. I have no idea what I’m going to do now, and I know I don’t have much time to figure it out.
I’m barely staying afloat as it is, and with that being the case, I have to keep the money coming in.
In desperation, I use the wifi in the shop to pull up job listings online.
I scan the listings, my heart sinking with each one. I need money, so I can’t afford to be overly picky. But I also want to find something I know I’ll be good at.
Preferably something that’s not going to require me to rely on my car.
My eyes fall on a particular posting looking for a nanny. The whole job sounds good save for the one point where it says that experience being a nanny is required.
