“I don’t have another choice,” I snapped, the immense stress of the past month finally breaking my polite customer-service facade. “My family decided they needed my college fund for themselves. It is either this terrible loan or I don’t get to go to school at all.”
I tightly braced myself for a long, condescending lecture about pulling myself up by my bootstraps. Instead, Mr. Gideon just set the paper face-down on the table, slid a five-dollar bill under his empty coffee cup, and walked out into the pouring rain without another word.
I spent the rest of my shift wiping away angry tears in the back room, feeling entirely defeated by the world.
When I showed up for my next overnight shift, Mr. Gideon’s booth remained empty for the first time in weeks. I felt a weird pang of guilt deep in my chest. I assumed I had been way too harsh and successfully scared away my only reliable regular customer.
