Right on time. For Kevin, it was a ten minutes early. Unlocking the back door, flipping on all the lights, and starting the coffee, none of which were his responsibility. He did it because someone had to. And he didn’t mind doing it for Birkshire Family Services.

Tuesday was the day for intake meetings, training new caseworkers and walking them through the forms that Kevin knew he didn’t understand when he first started. In between his own caseload he fielded questions, and managed more than one scheduling conflict, resolving it before it became a serious problem. 

Denise, his supervisor, gave him an advance copy of the Forester Grant Proposal, because she knew he often caught mistakes others missed. He corrected the math and the numbers before it was submitted. Kevin did all this without recognition or getting credit for it. The work mattered to him more. 

Most days he believed that.

Denise posted the Program Coordinator in March, a title aligning with Kevin’s current responsibilities for the last two years. Denise assured him internal candidates would be considered first. So Kevin applied, wrote a cover letter specifying why he’d be a good fit, and interviewed with Denise’s supervisors, which went incredibly well, because he felt the room agree with him as he spoke about his qualifications and experience while not overselling it. 

Three weeks later Birkshire Family Services hired someone from outside, a younger candidate, less qualified, less experience, but he had a personal connection to their CEO, Frank Osterelle. 

Denise called him into her office, struggling to explain why he was passed over. She used corporate buzzwords like “budget constraints” and “we value what you do.” Kevin believed her, which made it feel worse. 

“Is there anything I need to do differently?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “You’re doing everything right. It just didn’t work out. Maybe next time.”

He nodded. Her answer settled nothing.

Kevin went back to work staring at a fresh stack of intake forms in his inbox. 

He could walk out and never look back. Someone less qualified than him could take over and he’d never be missed, the organization moving forward without so much as blinking. Instead, he picked up the first form and worked through it, because the family attached to that paperwork needed help. 

Priya stopped by his desk that morning with two black coffees, one for her and one she set down next to his keyboard.

“That’s messed up,” she said. “You know that, right? Everybody knows that.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to train him, though, aren’t you. The new guy.”

“Somebody has to.”

Priya sat on the edge of his desk for a minute, sipping her coffee, both of them drinking in silence. Kevin appreciated that about her. The last thing he needed was another pep talk, or positivity. He was tired of being ignored. 

He finished the intake form in thirty minutes, faster than most of his coworkers. By five o’clock he had twenty one complete. He filed the forms, locked the filing cabinets, and turned off the lights in the break room on his way out, leaving after Denise and Priya.

Would next year be any different? Would Denise remember their conversation today a year from now? Would he be more valuable later?

Those questions would remain unanswered, for now. But Kevin would be back tomorrow, unlocking the doors, making coffee, and showing up before anyone else.