I let go of a single mom for showing up late, then learned the reason behind it and begged her to forgive me…
For about six years, I’ve been a supervisor, always thinking that I was fair—strict, yes, but fair. Rules are rules and they exist for a reason, and if I begin making exceptions, where would that stop? That’s what I told Sab when I let her go last week.
She had arrived late for the third time this month, and our policy was straightforward: three strikes, you’re out. When I called her into my office, she didn’t argue. She just nodded quietly, picked up her bag, and walked out.
Later that day, I overheard two coworkers talking. “Did you hear about Sab’s son?” one of them asked. “Yeah,” the other replied. “She’s been sleeping in her car with him.”
That’s when I learned the truth: Sab had been evicted three weeks earlier. Her ex-husband was long gone—no child support, no family to count on. She and her five-year-old son had been living in their car. The reason she had been late was because every morning, she would drive across town to a church where they could wash up before she dropped him off at school.
I was overcome with guilt. I hadn’t let go of someone for being careless, I had punished someone who was fighting to survive.
I tried reaching her, but she didn’t answer. I texted her, still nothing. I started calling shelters, food banks, any place that might have helped her. Most places weren’t allowed to share information, but one woman at a local church paused when I mentioned Sab’s name.
“She was here two nights ago with her son,” she said. “Picked up some food and blankets.”
Just when I was about to lose hope, I spotted an old sedan in a grocery store parking lot across the street. The windows were foggy, and from beneath a blanket in the back seat, a small face peeked out.
I knocked gently on the window. A moment later, Sab sat up in the driver’s seat, clearly wary and alarmed. But the moment she recognized me, her face went blank.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Please, let me help.”
I offered her the job back, no conditions attached. But that wasn’t enough—I wanted to help her rebuild. My friend ran an apartment complex, and there was an available unit. No deposit was needed, and I knew of programs in the city that could assist with food and childcare.
She looked back at her son, then at me. With a trembling voice, she said “okay”.
In the weeks that followed, my friend got her into the apartment, the company approved a small raise for her, and I was able to connect her with some assistance programs. It wasn’t everything she required, but it was a start.
One afternoon, she walked into my office. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “Not just for the job—but for noticing me.”
She smiled, and for the first time, it glowed through her eyes.
That night I had a hard time falling asleep as I thought about how close I had come to making an unforgivable mistake. It’s easy to get caught up in rules and forget that people aren’t just names on a list. You never know what someone might be going through, and sometimes all they need is someone to listen—to truly see them.
The key point is that kindness should not come with restrictions. And sometimes, the best thing to do is break the rules.