“ I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal,” my manager told me. I looked down at my hands. I couldn’t meet his gaze.

I knew the accident was my fault. I knew how bad it looked for the company. I knew I’d be going home to an empty apartment.

I tried to retain my composure, fighting back the rush of negative emotions overwhelming my body, but it didn’t work. It never worked. I was a friendless 38 year old virgin. A college drop-out. And now I’d just lost my job.

The man staring down at me while I sobbed had no pity or compassion. If anything, he looked disgusted. Why wouldn’t he be?

My life was over. This was all I was ever going to be.