In 1999, I was close to graduating from the local college. Behold, I was invited by a family member to fill in at the front desk at their workplace while some staff took time off during the holiday season. Of course, I said yes. During that time, a little extra money was very welcome. I was unprepared to go to work; I needed a little makeover. I quickly pulled out from my closet professional wear that had long sat.
I was dressed down most of the time and focused on my goal of being a present mother, completing college while maintaining my home. I went to college initially for computer programming and quickly realized this was not for me. I then pursued a word processing degree. My close family worked in social services, and the sound of it was not appealing, so I pursued something different.
A degree that qualified me to work at any front office landed me on A counselor's path. I started that position and quickly learned about other programs in the agency. This agency provides services to those who suffer from the disease of addiction. I was at that local college for several years because I took two programs.
The second degree qualified me to move from the front desk to request the first intern position for Felony Drug Court. The idea of giving people a second chance resonated with my soul. I asked the manager of that program, and she asked her manager. When the front desk job ended, I was approved to move to Felony Drug Court because I had completed all but 1 class to get my degree to be a Chemical Dependency Professional, and the internship was the last piece for me to obtain my license.
I remember the look on my professor's face when I told her I already had a job waiting. She was impressed; the reputation of this agency was unmatched during that time.
I met with HR and signed all the paperwork on a Friday, and as I was walking behind my new supervisor, who was to show my first office space, she said, you start on Monday, "I said I couldn't wait," and "She said, good, now you can be my spy."
That Monday, I was told she had a massive stroke over the weekend. I was heartbroken for her and everyone close to her. The air was heavy with fear and grief at her absence. She did not return, and her assistant took charge as the supervisor.
My most explicit memory of her was when she told me she didn't like me because her husband cheated on her with a black woman. I remember telling her, "I can assure you, it was not me." I suffered with her until she destroyed herself. I was persistent, and I completed my internship and started a full-time position in the department. Counseling was not my first choice, but now I see it as my only choice. It is who God made me to be; no one could have changed his mind, not even me. God's hand was with me through that trial; his songs were always in my head and heart.
SEER Q
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