A branch of Lorna’s family I did not know existed.
And because I learned enough about Store 184 to understand that whatever succession decision I made needed more than one dramatic day.
I called Nessa.
She arrived forty minutes later.
Coryn looked as though he had aged ten years.
I did not fire him.
That surprised everyone.
Instead, I asked him:
“Why did you remove me?”
He swallowed.
“Customer complaints.”
“Policy?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
He did.
The store had guidance allowing managers to ask disruptive individuals to leave.
Nothing about homelessness.
Nothing about odor specifically.
Coryn had interpreted discretion conservatively.
He had not insulted me.
He had not mocked me.
He had offered the location of a community center.
Not enough kindness for what I wanted.
But not cruelty.
I told him:
“You made a judgment based on appearances.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“So did half the store.”
“Yes.”
“So do I, more often than I’d like.”
He looked surprised.
I continued.
“You are not losing your job because I decided to run a theatrical morality test nobody consented to.”
Relief crossed his face.
