Emma had had enough of her life. She was alone, sobbing, and had only $50 left. It rained that night she gave up half of it to help a suffering stranger in the grocery shop. She expected nothing in return but that same man changed her life forever and left her weeping.
I muttered to myself, “Just keep going, Emma.” “Mom told me tough times don’t last.”
My parents, the only family I had, passed away in a car cra:sh.
It was down to my last 50 dollars that night. My fridge was a wasteland, and I’d made a list of essentials: maybe pasta and eggs, and bread. Nothing more.
“Get through this week, Emma, just get through this week .”
I took a can of her favorite tomato soup and whispered, “God, Mom.” “I wish you were here. You always new how to make something out of nothing.”
As I neared the checkout line, I noticed him. A man, no older than 60.
“I’m sorry… His voice creeped, a fraction above the hum of the store, ‘I think I’m short.’ “I’m starving,” I said. “I haven’t eaten in two days.” Can I just take the bread?”
An uncomfortable-looking cashier who couldn’t have been much older than me looked at me. “I’m sorry sir, I can’t —”
Before I realized what I was saying, I stepped forward to ‘cover it.’
They both turned to look at me. His eyes were wide, startled and wet with un-slept tears. He was quick to say, “You don’t have to.” “Really, you don’t… I don’t want to be a burden.”
Pulling out the money I replied softly, “I know what it’s like.” “But what it means to feel, like, the world’s turned its back on you.” To wonder if you don’t see anyone anymore. Let me help. Please.”
He gripped the counter and his hands trembled. “But why would you —”
I thought about my mother’s words, about how someone told me once that it matters most when it costs something. “This matters more than my own groceries, and right now.”
As he turned to face me, he took the bag from the cashier and his lips began to tremble. “Thank you,” he whispered, clutching it tightly. “You have no idea what this means. I’ve lost everything recently, and I just…”
I said, touching his arm gently, ‘Sometimes we all need a little help.’ “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I will,” he nodded, his voice edged with emotion. “And someday, I hope I can repay this kindness.”
“Take care,” I said softly, watching as he shuffled out into the rain.
I didn’t even get his name.
The next morning, my alarm blared at 7:00 a.m., jolting me awake. My stomach was already twisted in knots.
It was my big interview — my one chance to claw my way out of this mess.
The office building was massive with glass walls and polished floors that made my heels click as I walked in.
A well-dressed woman at the reception smiled warmly. “Good morning! How can I help you?”
“I’m Emma,” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt. “I have an interview at 9:00.”
She nodded, checking her computer. “Of course! Mr. Watson is expecting you.”
“Miss Emma?” the receptionist called moments later.
“Yes,” I said, stepping forward, my heart thundering.
The door opened, and I froze.
It was HIM. The man from the grocery store.
He calmly walked over to the head of the table. He said good morning to everyone, a warm voice but also commanding.
He placed an index finger to the side of his face and uttered a faint smile, “Emma, right?”
“Yes,” I replied.
It all happened in a blur during the interview. The sound of my heart pounding in my ears, formal questions, rehearsed answers. I asked him if I could stay behind when it was over.
His voice was gentle and he owed her an explanation.
My hands gripped the edge of my chair; I nodded. “Last night, you were…”
He offered a broken man. “He’d forgotten who, or what, he was.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My name is Watson,” he said. “I’m the CEO of this company.”
My mind whirled. CEO? How was this ever possible?
“My car broke down last evening,” he explained. “I had been walking for hours in the rain, hoping to feel something. Anything but grief. I forgot my wallet and who I was supposed to be. I just needed to remember what it felt like to be human again.
“I know that feeling,” I said, brushing away a tear. “After my parents died, I felt quite lost. Sometimes I still do.
He glanced at me with understanding. “When you assisted me last night, you didn’t see a CEO or a wealthy individual. You noticed someone in pain and reached out. You gave me your last dollar, didn’t you?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
He smiled, walking back to his desk.
“This morning, I noticed your name and photo in the stack of applications. Your qualifications are outstanding, but your character is what this organization need. If I’m being honest, this is what I need. A businessperson who prioritizes people over profits. “And compassion.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Does this mean…?”
“The job is yours, Emma,” he said, extending his hand. “And I hope you’ll consider this more than just a job. I hope you’ll help me build something meaningful here — a company that remembers to be human.”
Sometimes life is unbearably hard. Sometimes it (good times) gives you moments like this, a reminder that it can only take a split second for good things to occur, even when you least expect it.
