When I told him I worked at Alliance Traffic, he smirked. “You mean with signs and cones?” I nodded. He laughed, called it “cute.” But I’ve worked nights in rain, patched asphalt at 3 a.m., and earned every bit of it.
On our first date, his jokes about “little flag girls” pushed me to share the truth I rarely tell—how I got into this work after a bad accident in a poorly marked construction zone. I told him about the crash, surgeries, and how that experience made me want to keep others safe.
His smirk vanished. He listened, apologized for being a jerk. We opened up about our lives—him stuck in finance, feeling out of place; me proving myself in a male-dominated field.
By the end of the night, we were honest, no pretenses. He asked if I’d want to meet again. I said maybe. Walking home, I felt proud—not just of my job, but of owning my story.
Back at work, setting up signs before dawn, I realized this job isn’t just traffic control—it’s about safety and second chances. Life throws us curveballs, but sometimes those hardships lead us to purpose. And sometimes, honesty can turn a smirk into understanding.