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I Lost My Mom and My Boss Denied My Leave — Then Everything Changed | True Story
Sep 15, 2025
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I Lost My Mom and My Boss Denied My Leave — Then Everything Changed | True Story
This is my story — a decade of loyalty, a devastating loss, and a toxic boss who refused to show compassion. When I lost my mother, I asked for leave to grieve, but instead, I was met with cold rejection and cruelty. What followed was a battle for respect, justice, and ultimately, redemption.
Join me as I share the raw, emotional journey of fighting workplace abuse, standing up for myself, and reclaiming my dignity.
If you've ever faced unfair treatment at work or struggled to balance life’s hardest moments, this story is for you.
Don’t forget to LIKE, COMMENT, and SUBSCRIBE for more real stories of strength and resilience.
Timestamps:
0:00 Introduction
1:45 The toxic boss and the coffee incident
5:30 The heartbreaking loss of my mother
8:15 Denied leave and workplace harassment
12:00 Standing up for myself and taking control
15:30 New beginnings and hope for the future
Show More Show Less View Video Transcript
0:00
I lost my mother and I asked for a leave
0:02
of absence. The boss said no. I asked
0:05
her, "Are you sure?" The email from my
0:08
superior arrived with the cold finality
0:10
of a death sentence. It wasn't a memo or
0:13
a polite notice, but an order, turse,
0:15
and unequivocal.
0:17
Nancy, your presence is no longer
0:19
required.
0:21
All unpaid leave requests have been
0:23
denied, and any severance will be
0:25
non-existent.
0:27
I read the words and for a long moment
0:30
they failed to make sense. My mind, a
0:33
fortress of logic and hardworn
0:35
professional resilience, simply could
0:37
not process the message. This was not
0:40
just a denial of my rights. It was a
0:42
brazen dismissal, a slap in the face
0:44
that stung with the heat of an
0:46
undeserved betrayal. My heart, a
0:49
dependable metronome of calm in the face
0:50
of workplace absurdities, skipped a
0:52
beat, then another, until it was a
0:55
frantic, discordant rhythm. The world
0:58
around me, a familiar tableau of
1:00
cubicles and hushed keyboard clacks,
1:02
receded into a blur. I felt a visceral
1:05
pang of disbelief, a profound shock that
1:08
stole the breath from my lungs.
1:10
I'm Nancy. I just turned 28. A decade of
1:15
my life, a full one-third of my
1:17
existence had been dedicated to Candle
1:20
Corporation.
1:21
In a world where professional loyalty is
1:24
a fleeting myth, I had become an
1:26
institution, a repository of corporate
1:29
memory, and a steadfast pillar of
1:31
competence.
1:32
Despite my youth, I was a seasoned
1:35
veteran, a living monument to the
1:37
company's history. My family was not
1:40
wealthy, not by any stretch of the
1:42
imagination.
1:43
We were a family of handme-downs, of
1:45
patched up trousers and dresses that had
1:47
seen the inside of more than one closet.
1:50
But we were a family of love. My
1:53
parents, their hands calloused from hard
1:56
work, shielded me from the harsh
1:57
realities of our modest means. As an
2:00
only child, I was the sole beneficiary
2:03
of their fierce, unwavering love.
2:06
I remember summer weekends, a feast of
2:08
sandwiches and lemonade eaten on a
2:10
checkered blanket in a sundrenched park.
2:13
Our wealth was not measured in dollars,
2:15
but in shared laughter, in the easy
2:18
companionship of a family that found joy
2:20
in the smallest of things. I was and
2:24
still am rich in the currency of love.
2:27
My cousins are my confidants, my support
2:29
system, and we still speak often. their
2:33
voices a familiar comfort in the chaos
2:35
of life. In high school, I was the
2:37
student council president. My grades a
2:39
testament to a quiet, determined
2:41
ambition. My teachers, seeing a fire in
2:44
my eyes, urged me towards college, a
2:47
future paved with academic honors. But I
2:50
had a different calling. I wanted to
2:52
serve. I wanted to do something that
2:55
felt important, that contributed to a
2:58
larger purpose. And so against my
3:01
parents' gentle protestations, I joined
3:04
the government, a civil servant in the
3:06
making. I wanted to repay my parents for
3:09
their sacrifices to give them the life
3:11
they deserved.
3:13
But life, as it so often does, had other
3:16
plans.
3:18
My father, the sturdy oak of our family,
3:20
fell ill. He faded before I could even
3:23
begin to give back what he had given me.
3:25
His passing left a chasm in our lives,
3:28
but in its place grew a new resolve. I
3:31
became my mother's protector, her
3:33
co-pilot in the journey of life. We
3:36
lived together, a quiet duet of two
3:38
women finding their way in a world
3:40
suddenly without its anchor. The years
3:42
flew by, a blur of work and quiet
3:45
domesticity.
3:47
After 5 years, I was no longer a
3:49
fresh-faced recruit. I was a respected
3:51
professional, a mentor to the new
3:54
generation of civil servants. My bonuses
3:56
were generous, and I funneled a
3:58
significant portion of my salary to my
4:00
mother, a silent tribute to my father's
4:02
memory. My free time was filled with the
4:05
simple pleasures of travel, exploring
4:07
new places with friends and my
4:09
boyfriend. My life a quiet symphony of
4:11
work life balance. Then the music
4:14
stopped. The new manager arrived, a
4:17
jarring, dissonant note in our carefully
4:19
composed professional harmony.
4:21
She was the president's daughter, a fact
4:23
that preceded her like a royal herald.
4:26
Whispers followed her like a shadow,
4:28
that she was unqualified, that her
4:30
position was a gilded cage, a lesson in
4:33
humility concocted by a desperate
4:35
father. Only the president and I knew
4:38
the truth, a fact that felt like a
4:40
heavy, unwelcome burden.
4:43
The atmosphere in the office, once a
4:45
comfortable, collaborative hum, became a
4:47
tense, suffocating silence. We walked on
4:50
eggshells, each breath a careful
4:52
calculation, each word a potential
4:54
landmine. The explosion came, not with a
4:58
bang, but with a spill. The coffee. It
5:01
was a simple request, a mundane task I
5:04
had performed a thousand times. I
5:06
brought her the cup, still steaming.
5:09
What is this? she spat, her voice a
5:11
sharp cutting blade. "Are you trying to
5:14
make me angry?" "It's exactly what you
5:17
asked for," I said, my voice as calm as
5:19
I could make it. She glared at me, her
5:22
eyes twin embers of manufactured rage.
5:25
She threw the cup, not at the wall, not
5:28
on the floor, at me. The hot liquid
5:31
splashed against my arm, a searing
5:34
immediate pain that ripped through my
5:35
composure. "Ow!" I cried, pulling my arm
5:38
away. Why did you do that? This is not
5:42
what I asked for, she shrieked, her
5:44
voice thin with frustration. I wanted it
5:46
warm with extra milk and sugar. It is
5:49
warm. Two cups of milk, two scoops of
5:52
sugar. It's what you asked for.
5:54
She was a monarch of her own small
5:56
kingdom. Her word an absolute law. She
5:59
had made a mistake, a simple error in
6:01
communication, but she could not would
6:04
not admit it. It's too hot. It's
6:07
supposed to be four cups of milk and
6:08
three scoops of sugar. I'm sorry, I
6:11
said, the words a bitter pill in my
6:13
mouth. I'll make you another.
6:17
This is why I can't stand people who
6:18
only have a high school education, she
6:21
sneered, her words a hammer blow to my
6:23
pride. My father told me you were good,
6:26
that everyone trusts you. I have a lot
6:29
to learn. But you, you are a massive
6:33
disappointment.
6:34
The pain in my arm flared, a constant,
6:37
throbbing reminder of her cruelty.
6:40
A coworker, sensing my distress, moved
6:43
to intervene, but I shook my head
6:44
subtly. I knew better than to bring her
6:46
attention to anyone else. Her cruelty
6:49
was a directed force, and to deflect it
6:52
was to risk a new target, and anyone who
6:55
became her target invariably crumbled
6:58
under the weight of her harassment,
7:00
leaving the company broken and stressed.
7:03
I was contemplating my next move when
7:05
she grabbed my burned arm, her fingers
7:07
digging into the tender skin. "You think
7:10
you can ignore me?" she hissed, her
7:13
voice a low, menacing whisper. "You
7:16
think you're so brave? You'll regret
7:18
that?" I winced and she let go, a cruel
7:21
smirk playing on her lips. "Go make the
7:24
coffee, and this time get it right." I
7:28
fled to the kitchen. The pain in my arm
7:30
a constant reminder of the psychological
7:32
warfare. The burn left a permanent mark,
7:35
a dark constellation of damaged skin
7:37
that I now kept hidden beneath long
7:39
sleeves. It was a small, silent
7:42
rebellion, a refusal to let her see the
7:45
extent of her damage. From that day on,
7:48
I was her target. Every document I
7:51
submitted was met with a barrage of red
7:53
pen, a childish, spiteful act of power.
7:57
What's wrong with this paper? She would
7:59
demand, throwing the pages back at me.
8:01
It's full of mistakes.
8:04
What mistakes? I asked, my voice a quiet
8:07
challenge. I checked it. It's perfect.
8:10
Don't argue with me, she shrieked, her
8:13
voice rising with impotent fury. I'm the
8:16
boss, and this is what my dad wants.
8:18
You're trying to impress him, aren't
8:20
you? I bet you think you're so special.
8:23
Then the low blow. You came from a
8:26
family with no dad, didn't you? You only
8:28
have your mom now. I know what that's
8:30
like. My dad is the president. Your dad?
8:33
He worked hard for nothing, didn't he? A
8:35
poor family that was sick and went
8:37
unrewarded.
8:38
I could feel the blood drained from my
8:40
face. My parents, my father were a
8:43
sacred part of me. How did she even
8:46
know? Let's not talk about personal
8:48
things at work, I said, my voice
8:50
trembling with suppressed rage. Oh,
8:53
you're mad now, aren't you? she said, a
8:55
wicked glint in her eyes. That's so
8:58
funny. So that's how you really are. How
9:01
dare you talk to the president's
9:02
daughter like that? Maybe I'll tell my
9:05
dad how badly you've been treating me.
9:08
Do as you please, I said, my voice a
9:10
steely whisper. Fix the test paper and
9:13
hand it in today. I'll make sure you
9:15
leave this place.
9:17
The next few weeks were a relentless
9:19
cycle of passive aggressive harassment,
9:21
but I held my ground. I taught her not
9:24
because I wanted to, but because I had
9:26
to. I taught her how to use a computer,
9:30
how to write a simple email, how to
9:32
format a document. She was a petulant
9:34
child, but I was a professional. Then
9:37
the call. I was on the rooftop sipping
9:40
coffee, the sun warm on my face when my
9:43
phone rang. An unknown number. Hello, is
9:47
this Nancy? A voice said, clipped and
9:50
urgent. This is Sauvu Hospital. Your mom
9:53
was brought in urgently. She's in
9:55
critical condition. Can you come right
9:57
away? The world tilted on its axis. My
10:00
mind went blank. I left a note on her
10:03
desk. Emergency leaving early. And a
10:05
taxi became my sanctuary. The only thing
10:08
that stood between me and a reality I
10:10
couldn't face. At the hospital, a nurse
10:13
led me to her room. There she was, my
10:16
mother, lying still, a quiet, pale
10:19
figure on a bed. The doctor explained
10:22
that she had collapsed at work, a heart
10:24
weakened by a decade of unspoken grief
10:26
and stress.
10:28
My father's death had taken a piece of
10:30
her, and now it seemed the stress of her
10:33
own life was taking the rest. I cried, a
10:36
torrent of grief that had been building
10:38
for years. I held her, rocking gently, a
10:42
silent prayer on my lips.
10:45
After the funeral, I called the manager,
10:47
my voice thick with unshed tears. "I'm
10:50
sorry for leaving early. My mom just
10:52
passed away. Can I take a week off for
10:54
the funeral?" "Oh," she said, her voice
10:58
devoid of emotion. "So that's why you
11:01
left." "Well, I'm not approving any paid
11:03
leave for you. You can take the time,
11:06
but it will be unpaid."
11:08
I couldn't believe it. 10 years. 10
11:11
years without a single sick day. a
11:13
single vacation day. And now, in my
11:16
darkest hour, she was denying me a basic
11:18
human right. I've done a lot for this
11:21
company, I said, my voice a low growl.
11:24
Shouldn't I be allowed to take time off
11:26
to say goodbye to my mother? You always
11:29
challenge me, don't you? She said, a
11:32
hint of vicious satisfaction in her
11:34
voice.
11:35
You don't need to come back. I hung up,
11:38
my heart a hammer against my ribs. The
11:41
funeral was a blur. I didn't cry. I was
11:43
too busy, too numb. I took care of the
11:46
arrangements, sent thank you notes, and
11:48
did everything I could to distract
11:49
myself from the gaping hole in my life.
11:52
She tried calling. I ignored her. Two
11:56
weeks later, the president called.
11:58
"Nancy, I need to see you," he said, his
12:02
voice grave. I went to the office. The
12:06
silence in the hallways was unsettling,
12:08
a phantom limb of my own grief. My
12:11
co-workers, their faces etched with
12:13
concern, offered their condolences. I
12:16
knocked on his office door. "Nancy," he
12:19
said, his eyes filled with a weary
12:21
sadness. "Come in." I told him
12:24
everything about the coffee, the burns,
12:26
the red pen, the insults about my
12:29
family, the cruel denial of my leave. He
12:32
listened, his head bowed, his face a
12:34
mask of regret. "I'm sorry," he said,
12:37
his voice a low rumble.
12:39
My wife and I, we spoiled her. This is
12:42
the result. It's my fault. I've talked
12:45
to the employees who quit. The ones who
12:46
couldn't handle it. The ones my daughter
12:49
drove away. The office. It's a mess
12:52
without you. The whole team protested. I
12:55
didn't know, I said, my voice barely a
12:57
whisper. He looked at me, his eyes now
12:59
hard with resolve. I need your help,
13:02
Nancy. This company needs you. What do
13:05
you say?
13:07
My own grief was still fresh, but a
13:09
different kind of fire, a professional
13:11
fire, began to burn in my belly. "I'll
13:15
help," I said. "Anything I can do." The
13:18
next day, my phone rang. It was her, the
13:21
manager. Her voice was shrill,
13:23
desperate. "Nancy, where have you been?
13:26
Everyone is gone. It's all a mess. You
13:28
need to come back." "Didn't you tell me
13:30
not to come back?" I said, a slow,
13:33
deliberate smile spreading across my
13:35
face.
13:36
She hung up. An hour later, I was in my
13:39
car driving to the office. The building
13:42
was eerily silent. The parking lot a
13:44
ghost town. When I walked in, I heard
13:47
it. A crash, a scream. Her department. I
13:50
walked in, a quiet spectre in the storm.
13:53
She was a whirlwind of rage, papers
13:54
flying, furniture overturned, her hair
13:57
was a mess, her clothes stained, her
13:59
composure shattered. "It's your fault,"
14:02
she screamed, lunging for me, her eyes
14:04
wild. Ever since you left, everyone else
14:06
did too. How are you going to fix this?
14:09
I don't know what you're talking about,
14:11
I said, my voice a calm island in her
14:13
sea of chaos. She let go, her face a
14:17
mask of defeat.
14:19
Half a day, she muttered, her voice now
14:21
a whimper. Just half a day, and I can't
14:24
do it. I don't know how to do anything.
14:28
I looked at her at the raw, undisguised
14:30
vulnerability of a woman who had never
14:32
been told no. and I felt nothing but a
14:34
quiet, profound pity. "Sir," I said, my
14:38
voice echoing in the empty room. "I
14:41
think you know this is your fault.
14:42
Nobody follows someone who throws their
14:44
power around without real skills." She
14:47
glared at me, her face contorted with
14:49
rage. "Say that again. You want to get
14:51
kicked out?" "I'd like to stay," I said,
14:55
my voice a calm, steady rhythm. "If you
14:57
leave, then I'll take over the company."
15:01
She laughed, a thin, brittle sound.
15:03
"You're fired. I'll be the boss. You're
15:06
nothing." "Okay," I said, and a strange,
15:09
serene calm washed over me. "Thanks for
15:12
everything." I turned to my desk,
15:15
ignoring the papers scattered on the
15:16
floor, and began to pack my things. She
15:19
watched me, her bravado crumbling.
15:21
"You're really quitting?" she said, her
15:24
voice small. "Yes,
15:27
but shouldn't you finish today's work?"
15:30
I looked at her at the small, frightened
15:33
child hiding behind the expensive
15:34
clothes and the harsh facade. "It's
15:37
against the law to deny paid leave
15:39
without good reason," I said. "It's the
15:41
law." Her face went pale, a sudden,
15:44
stark realization dawning in her eyes.
15:47
"We're all human," I continued, my voice
15:49
now a quiet lecture. "I understand we
15:52
might not get along, but that doesn't
15:53
mean you can treat people badly. You're
15:55
not fit to be a manager." "Who do you
15:58
think you are?" she hissed, her fury
16:00
returning. Insulting my parents. You
16:03
insulted mine, I said, my voice now a
16:05
steel blade. We're nothing alike. You
16:08
made people feel worthless. You drove
16:10
them away. That's right, she screamed,
16:12
her voice a confession. It felt good
16:14
when they left. They were so weak.
16:18
Dad, she whispered, her eyes wide with
16:20
fear. The president stood in the
16:21
doorway, a look of profound
16:23
disappointment on his face. I heard
16:26
everything," he said, his voice a low,
16:28
disappointed rumble. "I have proof of
16:31
what you did. I hoped that capable
16:33
workers would help you improve. But in
16:36
the past few months, our performance
16:38
dropped. We lost money. You're fired.
16:41
I'm moving you to the countryside.
16:43
You'll be checked on regularly. The
16:46
people there are reliable. This time you
16:49
will learn from the basics." Her bravado
16:52
shattered. She fell to the floor,
16:54
sobbing, laughing, and crying all at
16:56
once. I said, "Too bad." A quiet final
17:00
farewell.
17:01
The next day, she was gone. The office
17:04
was a sea of smiling faces, a joyous
17:06
chorus of relief. The president
17:08
personally called every person who had
17:10
quit and asked them to come back. And he
17:12
offered me the manager's position. It's
17:14
harder than I thought. The weight of
17:17
responsibility is heavy, but with the
17:19
support of my team, I'm doing okay. The
17:22
burns on my arm still throbb sometimes,
17:25
a phantom ache that reminds me of where
17:26
I came from. But the bonus I received
17:29
from the manager's salary made life more
17:31
comfortable.
17:33
And recently, my boyfriend proposed. I
17:36
said, "Yes,
17:38
we're expecting a baby next year. We've
17:40
already started preparing. We're going
17:42
to be a family. A family built on love.
17:46
And I, Nancy, the girl from the family
17:48
with no money, am going to make sure my
17:51
child is rich.