Hey everyone, I’m Sharon, and today I want to share a part of my journey that’s been tucked away, mostly because I wasn’t sure how to talk about it without feeling a wave of emotions.
Four years ago, life threw me a curveball that no one ever wants to catch. My mom, the strongest woman I knew, lost her battle with breast cancer.
She wasn’t the first in our family to face this monster; my grandma had also been taken by the same disease.
Given our family history, I decided to see a specialist to know if I was walking down the same grim path.
Jacob sighed deeply, then motioned for the other HR rep to join him, deciding that all four of us should review the complaint together.
We all went into the meeting room. The interview lasted over 30 minutes, with HR posing various questions that seemed to circle around the same themes, phrased in slightly different ways.
After what felt like an eternity of repeating myself and defending my actions, Jacob finally stood, signaling the end of the marathon session. He mentioned that I’d hear from them after they had a chance to review everything—the letters, any CCTV footage, my medical history, and whatever else they had gathered.
I wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out, so I pulled up my CV and started preparing for the worst-case scenario: a new job hunt.
About an hour later, I noticed movement around the HR office again. I watched as everyone who had been there in the lunchroom that day, except for Stasy, was called into HR.
Finally, it was Stasy’s turn. The office fell into a hush as she walked to HR. She was gone for about 40 minutes—twice as long as anyone else—and when she returned, her face was a storm of anger and disbelief. She was visibly shaking with fury, packing her things in a huff.
She ranted to anyone within earshot that I had gotten her fired, her voice rising over the clacks of keyboards and the rustling of coats being pulled on. Without a backward glance, she shoved her way onto the lift, leaving a trail of whispered speculations in her wake.
A few moments later, an email notification pinged loudly through the now quieter office. It was from HR, stating simply that my case had been closed.
As I shut down my computer, I felt a profound sense of closure and a cautious optimism about the days to come.
Do you think I did the right thing? What would you do if you were in my shoes?
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