I was sitting in my living room on an ordinary afternoon when my phone buzzed. Harry’s name flashed on the screen—a name I recognized only in passing. Our paths had crossed when my son and his daughter had been “dating” in the innocent, awkward way fifth graders do. I barely knew Harry, but he clearly knew enough about me to make this call.
As I answered, his voice was steady but carried an undertone of desperation. After some polite pleasantries, he got straight to the point.
“Wendy,” he said, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I recently had a kidney transplant. While I was recovering, my Office Manager embezzled a substantial amount of money from my company. It’s been a disaster, and now the business is struggling to survive. I need help.”
I leaned forward in my chair, intrigued and slightly unsettled. He continued, “I want to offer you a job. It’ll mean longer hours than you’re working now, a lot more stress, and—” he paused for effect—“less pay.”
I chuckled nervously, unsure if he was serious. He was.
“But,” he said, his voice softening, “if you can help me turn this company around and make it grow, I promise to take care of you and help you grow in return.”
I sat there, silent for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle. If I knew then what I know now…
Harry explained that he wanted me to meet his son-in-law, Richard, who had recently left his job in accounting to help manage the company. Harry envisioned the two of us—each with our vastly different backgrounds—as a dynamic duo capable of reviving his struggling business.
I told him I’d talk to my husband and get back to him. Later that evening, after recounting the conversation to my husband, he grinned knowingly. “You’re going to take it, aren’t you?” he asked.
I didn’t say a word. I just smiled. I’ve always loved a challenge.
The following week, I drove to Harry’s house. He greeted me warmly, but my attention was immediately drawn to Richard, lounging in a chair with a look that screamed disdain. He wasn’t just skeptical; he seemed downright annoyed. It was painfully obvious that I wasn’t his first choice for this role—or his second, for that matter.
I shook his hand firmly, determined not to let his icy reception rattle me. Harry dove into a series of questions about my qualifications while Richard sat silently, arms crossed, evaluating me like a predator sizing up prey. Harry was enthusiastic, fully on board with bringing me into the fold, but I knew earning Richard’s trust would be an uphill battle.
That weekend, another curveball came my way. My son, ecstatic after spending time with Harry’s daughter, bounded into the car and blurted out, “Mom, they have the coolest fireman’s pole in their bedroom!”
My stomach dropped. Fireman’s pole? Oh no. I knew what he was describing, but how could I explain that to a child? “Let’s not talk about that anymore,” I said, trying to change the subject. It hit me then: if Harry was going to be my new boss, it might be wise to keep some distance between our families.
Despite the warning signs, I handed in my notice at my job and stepped into my new role. On my first day, I arrived at what looked like an old house perched on a bustling main road. Behind it stood a garage apartment, where the team had gathered for a meeting.
Harry stood at the front of the group, smiling broadly. “Everyone,” he said, “meet Wendy. Wendy was hired to be the Office Manager, but…”
I froze. But?
“…we’ve decided to hire someone else for that role. So, Wendy, we’d like you to be our Marketing Manager instead.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Right there, in front of a group of strangers, Harry had publicly demoted me before I’d even started. Embarrassment and anger surged through me. My cheeks burned. My stomach churned. Every fiber of my being told me to walk out the door and never look back.
But I didn’t.
Stay tuned for Part 2 of this wild journey—where the twists get sharper, the stakes get higher, and the lessons come hard and fast.
