Life Forces a Change of Plans
Emily grew up in a modest family. Her parents were ordinary engineers, living in a small council flat where money was always tight. She envied the girls at school who wore pretty clothes while she had nothing but her uniform and a couple of plain dresses.
After finishing school and starting university, she made a firm decision:
“My home will be different. My life will be different.”
And she achieved itthough not right away. At first, she worked as a teacher, teaching English literature, then even transferred to the local education office. But later, she ran into an old classmate who offered her a job at a foreign-invested firm.
“Come on, Emily, youve got nothing to lose. The pay is decent,” her friend said, quoting her own salary. Emily nearly dropped her cup of tea. “The teams great, and I know youve got the brains for it.”
“Thanks, love. Ill definitely comemoneys always welcome,” Emily smiled.
By then, she was married to David, and their son, Oliver, was four. They lived with Davids parents, cramped and dependent. David worked as a dental technician.
The new job exceeded Emilys expectations. She loved the work, started earning well, and soon bought a spacious flat on a mortgage. Then came the expensive car. Her bosses quickly noticed her efforts, and soon she was receiving hefty bonuses. Time flew, her career soared, and before long, she became deputy director.
Of course, it changed her. She grew a bit arrogant, especially around Davids relatives. After all, they lived so much better than his sister, Claire.
“Em, hurry upwere going to be late for Claires birthday,” David urged as they got ready. “And please, try to be nice. I want her day to go well.”
Emily nodded. She really did intend to be on her best behaviour. David was nervousshe always took ages getting ready. Meanwhile, Emily carefully applied her makeup, dreading the visit to Claire and Simons place.
“Everything about them is so ordinary,” she thought, glancing in the mirror. “Dated salads, basic sandwiches, no smoked salmon or fine wine, just cheap lager and the crockery! That tiny two-bed flat could do with a proper makeover. Three kids, that little greengrocers shopmust barely turn a profit.”
Finally done, she slipped into a sleek dress and stepped out, elegant as ever. David and Oliver were waiting on the sofa.
“About time.”
The walk up to the fifth-floor flatno lift, of coursedulled her mood. The narrow hallway, the cramped seating, the noisy kids. Claire was in old jeans and a checked shirt.
“Couldnt even dress up for her own birthday,” Emily thought as she sat beside David.
Before dinner, she handed Claire an expensive perfume.
“Thanks, Em. You always know what to pick.”
Emily scanned the roomscuffed wallpaper, worn-out sofa, dated furniture. It all needed replacing.
Simon had always rubbed her the wrong way, smirking like he knew something. She assumed he was jealous. Claire never bothered with manicures, after all.
“Hows work, Em? Nearly running the place yet?” he asked with that same smirk.
“Going well, thanks,” she forced a smile. “Quite the turnout tonight.”
“Claires well-loved. Thats why theyre here,” Simon said, glancing fondly at his wife.
The evening passed without incident. Back home, Emily and David lounged on their plush sofa, sipping French wine.
“Claires party went alright,” David remarked.
“It was fine. You know I dont like them, and they dont like me. Lets drop it,” she said, swirling her glass.
David let it go.
The next morning, Emily headed to her salon appointment.
“Olivers with you today. Maybe grab lunch outthe fridges empty. Youll manage, right?”
“Do we have a choice?” David sighed. “You couldve checked first before booking. Fine, go. Well figure it out.”
After the weekend, rumours swirled at workdownsizing. The director was leaving, and everyone assumed Emily would take his place.
“Em, theyll probably promote you,” a colleague said over coffee.
“No ones said anything yet,” she replied.
Then came the meeting with the CEO. Walking down the hall, she was sure it was about her promotion.
“Take a seat, Emily,” he began politely, then shifted tone. “Youre brilliant, capableyou know that. But theres an issue. The directors being let go, and unfortunately, his entire teamincluding you. I tried to stop it, but cuts are cuts. Its not about performance. Just restructuring.”
Emily left in a daze. She collected her things and went home, too numb to work. Oliver was still at school; David at work. She sank onto the sofa and cried.
“What good is a generous severance? I gave everything to that companylate nights, extra work. And just like that, Im disposable?”
“Dont worry, well manage,” David reassured her that evening. “Youll find something else.”
“David, where will I get that kind of salary again?”
“Maybe not as much, but weve got savings. Itll work out.”
“Youre wonderful,” she sighed, leaning into him. “But it doesnt help.”
“Take a week, then start looking.”
But she couldnt wait. The next day, she sent out CVs, scoured job sites. Weeks passednothing. No calls, no offers. After years of success, she felt utterly adrift.
“David, we need to cut back,” she admitted one evening. “Severance wont last forever. No more eating out. Ill cookthough Im rubbish at it.”
“Home cookings better. Youll learn,” he smiled.
Then, a callan interview. The man across the desk was sharp, polished.
“Impressive client experience,” he noted.
“Yes, Ive climbed every rung at my old firm.”
“Except the top. Your sons olderno more kids planned?” She stiffened.
“Thats hardly relevant.”
“Just covering bases. Now, salary expectations?”
She named a figure close to her old one. His eyebrows shot up.
“Thats ambitious. We offer half that, partly bonus-based. Doubt youll find better elsewhere. Not interested? Fair enough.”
She left fuming. At home, she ranted about undervalued skills, insulting offers.
January and February were harshsnowy, icy. They sold the Mercedes.
“Miss it?” David asked, stroking her hair.
“A bit. Well get something smaller. Tough times pass.”
Then, Claire called.
“Em, can I come over? Need to talk.”
They sat at the kitchen table over tea.
“Join us at the shop. Simons starting a tiling businesshes good at it. I cant run the place alone. Stock runs, shelf stackingits a lot. Supermarkets are stealing trade, but I trust you. Wed make a great team.”
Emily was speechless.
“You want me hauling potatoes?” she finally muttered.
“Ill handle deliveries at first. Youll get the hang of it.”
She didnt insult Claire but made no promises. Later, she vented to David.
“How dare she offer me that? Mea shop girl? Its humiliating.”
David snapped.
“Enough. Youre miserable jobless, but too proud to take help. Claires offering honestly. Get over yourself. If life changes your plans, adapt.”
Shed never seen him so angry.
“She pities me. Theyve never liked me”
“Because you look down on them! No degree, three kidsyet shes a great mum, runs a home. You could learn from her.”
Two days of silence followed. Then, when David came home:
“Ill work with Claire. Starting tomorrow.”
“Thats my girl. Your skills will shine there too.”
A year and a half later, the first month had been tears over rough hands, chipped nails. Rude customers tested her patience. But by month three, shed found her rhythm.
Then Claire broke her leg. Emily took overdriving the van, hauling stock, managing alone. They closed briefly, renovated, Emily investing her savings.
She drafted a business plan, brainstormed marketing tactics to compete with chains. Profits grew.
Now, glancing in the mirror, she saw a businesswomanjeans, checked shirt, trainers, no Mercedes, salon visits quarterly. But she smiled, content.
Life had turned around. Theyre even considering a second shop. And theyll make it work.
