When I landed a spot at the factory, I thought I’d found the place I could spend my life working. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, we manufactured metal parts for construction equipment—but it was honest work, the kind that built communities and kept food on the table.

The first day I walked into that noisy, grease-stained plant, I promised myself I’d be the kind of worker people could rely on. I showed up before the clock hit six, even when my shift didn’t start until seven.

I stayed after hours, not because anyone asked me to, but because I wanted to make sure everything was done right. Over the years, supervisors came and went, younger workers cycled through like seasons, but I remained a constant fixture.