He closed the door. That always means something’s up.
“I’ve got some news,” he said. “You’re being promoted. Shift manager. Starting next Monday.” For a second, I thought he was joking.
I blinked at him like he’d just told me I’d won the lottery. It didn’t feel real, not until he slid the paper across the desk.
Then, he handed me a letter. The seal at the top had the city’s emblem—I recognized it immediately.
It was from the officer. Typed neatly, but the last line was handwritten: “Thank you.”
He’d written directly to corporate about my kindness, my attitude, my integrity. Said I was the kind of employee that made the whole community better. Greg said it was one of the best letters they’d ever received.
I don’t even remember walking out of the office. I just stood in the break room holding that paper like it was the most important thing I’d ever earned. And in a way, maybe it was.
All for apples. And cereal. Two items that meant survival for them and purpose for me.
That’s the thing about small kindnesses. You never know who’s watching. Or how far they’ll go. Sometimes, they circle back in ways you never could have planned.
And if I had to do it again? Even if I didn’t get a promotion or a thank-you?
In a heartbeat. Every single time. Because people deserve to feel seen. Even when they’re barely holding on.
If you liked this, you might enjoy this story of a woman whose husband left in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner, only to return with two babies.
