When the company owner barged in and abruptly fired me for wearing second-hand clothes, my world imploded. Little did I know, my co-workers were planning an act that would turn everything around and emphasize the true strength of our workplace community.
Never did I think that buying clothes from a thrift store would cost me my job. But life’s full of surprises, especially when you’re a single mother struggling to make ends meet.
It began like any other Tuesday morning. I was at my desk, taking calls and welcoming clients with my usual cheer. The office buzzed with its routine hustle — keys clacking, printers working, and the aroma of fresh coffee in the air.
Kate from HR peeked around the corner. “Hey Claire, how are the kids?”
“Oh, you know,” I chuckled. “Sophie’s engrossed in her science project, and Noah’s set on memorizing every dinosaur name.”
Kate smiled. “Sounds like you have your hands full.”
“Always,” I said. “But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
Just then, the elevator chimed. The doors opened to reveal a familiar face I hadn’t seen in over a year — Victor, the company owner.
Panic surged through me. I quickly stood, smoothing my thrift store blouse. “Good morning, Mr. Harrison! Welcome back!”
Victor’s eyes narrowed at me, his expression hardening. “What are you wearing?”
I glanced at my outfit, puzzled. “I — ”
“Is this how you present yourself to our clients?” he demanded loudly. “In these… these rags?”
The office fell silent, every eye on us.
“Mr. Harrison, I — ”
“No excuses,” he interrupted. “A receptionist’s attire should reflect our brand. You’re terminated. Leave immediately.”
My world spun. “But sir, I’m a single mom. I can’t — ”
“Out!” he shouted. “Now!”
Tears stung as I gathered my belongings. Kate tried to intervene, but Victor silenced her with a glare.
The drive home was a blur. How would I explain this to Sophie and Noah? How would we survive? I unlocked our apartment door, and there they were — my little warriors.
Sophie instantly knew something was wrong. “Mom, what happened?”
I hugged them close, the smell of grape juice and play-doh soothing me. “I lost my job today, sweethearts.”
Noah hugged me tighter. “It’s okay, Mommy. We still love you.”
I stifled a sob. “I love you too, munchkins. So much.”
What Does the “WC” Sign Mean?
A couple from TikTok, Shelby and Dylan, shared a video in 2020, where they were talking about the difference between Americans and Canadians.
“What in the world is a washroom?” Dylan asked. “And what are they washing in there? Oh, it’s a restroom. The only thing I wash in there is my hands,” he then continued.
Then Shelby asked, “Do you rest in a restroom?”
“That’s a good point. They both don’t make much sense,” Dylan said.
As the Mirriam Webster’s Dictionary explained, “water closet” is a noun which describes, “a compartment or room with a toilet” or “a toilet bowl and its accessories.”
In short, it means “WC.”
In Reddit, a user asked to other users, “Why is a public WC called bathroom if there is [no] bath?”
A Redditor commented under, “Americans might similarly ask: ‘Why is it called a WC (water closet) if it isn’t even a closet?”
“In Russian it’s ‘a room without windows’ even if there actually is a window,” then a different Redditor shared, “In Esperanto, it’s necesejo, or ‘necessary place’”
What do you think? Let us know.
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