For nearly six years, I had been a manager, always convinced that I was fair—firm, yes, but fair. Rules exist for a reason, and I believed consistency was key to maintaining order. That mindset guided my decision when I had to let Celia go last week.
She had been late again—her third time this month. Our company policy was clear: three violations, and termination follows. When I called her into my office, she didn’t argue. She simply nodded, gathered her belongings, and left quietly.
Later that day, I overheard two coworkers talking. “Did you hear about Celia’s situation?” one of them asked. “Yeah,” the other replied. “She’s been facing some really tough times.”
That’s when I learned the truth. Celia had been struggling with serious personal challenges. She had no support system, and she was doing her best to care for her young son. The reason for her tardiness? Every morning, she had to travel across town to access resources before ensuring her child made it to school on time.
I felt a deep sense of regret. I had made a decision based on policy, but I hadn’t taken the time to understand the person behind the rule.
Determined to make things right, I reached out to her. She didn’t answer my calls or messages, but I didn’t want to give up. I started contacting local support services, hoping someone could connect me with her.
Eventually, I found her in a parking lot, sitting in her car with her son. When she recognized me, her expression was unreadable.
I’m truly sorry,” I said. “Please, let me help.”
I offered her the job back with no conditions. More than that, I wanted to support her in getting back on her feet. A relative of mine managed an apartment complex with a vacant unit, and I knew of assistance programs that could help with basic needs.
She looked at her son, then back at me. Her shoulders shook slightly.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Over the following weeks, things slowly began to change for her. She moved into the apartment, the company approved a small pay increase, and I helped connect her with community resources. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a new beginning.
One afternoon, she walked into my office. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “Not just for the job—for seeing me.”
She smiled, and for the first time, it reached her eyes.
That evening, I sat in my car, reflecting on how close I had come to making a choice I would have deeply regretted. It’s easy to get caught up in policies and forget that every person has a story. Sometimes, the right thing to do is to lead with understanding.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that kindness and compassion matter just as much as rules—and sometimes, they matter even more.